#high-flow cats

[faetealights]

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[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.

[squshymarsh]

DcxDp prompt #7

Dragon danny (there’s art too)

Danny comes to possess an amulet like Dorothea’s. Unfortunately, dragon blood comes from his fathers side of the family and being half ghost and in possession of the magic amulet reignites the dormant dragon blood in him turning him into a very real, very half dead dragon.

Right in front of his family.

Even taking off the amulet doesn’t reverse it.

Unfortunately now being both human, ghost and a dragon sets his emotions off which then make his powers go haywire.

Danny fears their reaction and flees into the ghost zone. Only for his powers to get stronger there and for the realms themselves to spit him out into the first dimension that could handle him.

He lands in Gotham, disoriented, lost and afraid. Of course it’s not Gotham unless someone nefarious gets their hands on him.

Months later a new drug hits the market called dragons fury. It enhances a person's magical capabilities and carries a great high but comes with many unpredictable and volatile drawbacks.

Batman and Robin team up with Constantine after finding out that the drug is made with actual dragon's blood. Given the fact that a dragon hasn’t been spotted in the world in a few centuries and each one that had is very powerful. It shouldnt be in drug dealers hands, even if it’s just the blood and not an actual dragon.

Batman and John are speaking to Commissioner Gordon one night while Robin(Damien) patrols close by. Damien comes apon a drug deal and goes to intercept when he notices the target drug being exchanged. Unfortunately the dealer in a magic user and knocks Damien out. Instead of being smart and leaving the user takes Damien back to where they are operating thinking they can use him as leverage.

Damien is somewhat awake by the time he’s being dragged inside a forgotten building and the arguing about what to do with him begins. He can’t get his body to move just yet due to what the magic user used on him and he’s only barely starting to get his feeling back when the group decides what to do with him.

They decided to feed him to the dragon. Confirming the existence of an actual dragon.

Damien is tossed into a concrete cell in the basement of the building. It’s dark and he can’t move to turn on night vision in his mask. yet he can just make out the shape of the walls and the door and the man standing in the way of the dim light coming from the hall behind him. Shadows cover the man’s face obscuring his identity.

The dark and shadows don’t conceal the sound of snapping leather or deep bellowing growls. The sound like a crocodile bellowing mixed with the vicious snarl of a big predatory cat.

From the ceiling drops a dark mass. Body fluid yet coiled and stiff, ready to snap and attack. Not at the prone body laying behind it but the much larger one standing at the door. Teeth barred and poised to attack. Leathery wings spread as far as they could in the tiny cell.

The door slams shut when the long and fluid body lunges. Leaving the beast to slam its weight against it, clawing and snarling before settling with a snort of air. Folding its large wings behind its long body.

It’s hard to see now with the room in almost complete darkness. Light coming through the cracks between the door and its clawed at and scratched frame. That darkness does nothing to hide when the animal turns its attention to Damien.

Wide, toxic green eyes with vertical pupils land on him, if the magic wasn’t still freezing him then those dangerous eyes may have.

Its body moves like a ribbon flowing through the wind. Fluid, smooth and elegant. Scales darker than the room are nestled in fur equally as dark, only broken up by a mane of shockingly white fur that trails down its long neck, between alternating shoulder blades and down the dragon's long body, ending in a puff of fur at the end of its whip-like tail.

It stops in front of Damien lowering its narrow head close to his. Cold breath ghosts over him along with strong whiskers.

Dangerously close yet it doesn’t attack. Instead the dragon seems to check him over for a moment before settling next to him. Putting itself between Damien and the door.

The dragon wasn’t going to attack him it seemed, now all he had to do was wait till he could move so he can escape with his newly acquired friend.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Can you do an imagine about the reader going out with an F1 driver (I imagine Charles or Carlos), where the reader speaks their language, but doesn’t tell them. One day they walk in on the reader talking to someone on the phone in French/ Italian or Spanish respectively, and have a talk about it. Reader was hiding their abilities due to an insecurity about their ability. Alternatively they could be at a restaurant, where the reader is forced to use that language to order something.

Speak Baby

Summary: you are going out with Charles, you can speak his language, but don't tell him. You were hiding your abilities due to an insecurity about your ability.

Song: Heaven and Back · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

Word count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The soft glow of the lamp painted the room in hues of amber and gold, the late afternoon sun already having dipped below the horizon.

You were curled up on the plush armchair, a worn copy of “Les Misérables” resting open in your lap, though your attention was entirely focused on the phone pressed to your ear. The French words flowed effortlessly, a melodic stream of conversation with your cousin, Élise, back in Paris.

Laughter bubbled in your chest as Élise recounted a particularly disastrous attempt to bake macarons, the familiar cadence of your mother tongue a soothing balm to your soul.

"…and then, the oven, mon Dieu, it was like a volcanic eruption of powdered sugar!" Élise’s voice, tinged with dramatic exasperation, crackled through the speaker.

You chuckled, a genuine, unrestrained sound, “You know you should just stick to painting, ma chérie. Baking is not for you.”

"Oh, very funny," she retorted good-naturedly, “But you should have seen it! The cat even had a dusting. Anyway, how is le charmant Charles?"

You paused, a smile playing on your lips. "He's…fine," you said, a soft giggle escaping your throat. "He's been working late again, as usual."

“And still no clue about your… little secret?" Élise teased, the question a whisper of anticipation.

"No," you replied, your voice dropping slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Absolutely not. It's…it's better this way, Élise. I’m not ready."

You knew that you were holding out on Charles, but the thought of him judging you for your French was an insecurity that had been haunting you for years.

You had always felt like you were not good enough, that your accent was too strong and that your grasp on the language was not as good as it should be, even though you grew up with it.

You always felt the need to hide, to not draw attention to yourself, and so this was how it was with Charles.

It was easier to communicate in English with him, to be safe, even if your heart yearned to speak in the language that made you, you.

"You're being silly, ma belle. He'd be enchanted, I'm sure of it," Élise said, her tone gentle, trying to reassure you.

Just as you were about to respond, a distinct sound reached your ears - the click of the front door. Your heart leaped into your throat. Charles was home.

Panic seized you, and you quickly pressed the “end call” button, the dial tone a sharp, jarring contrast to the lilting French you had been immersed in moments before. You closed the “Les Miserables” book with an audible thud, feigning a casual air.

You straightened yourself in the armchair and tried to look as though you were simply relaxing, a wave of frustration beginning to wash over you for not being able to share this part of yourself with Charles, but also relief because you almost got caught.

"Hey," Charles said, his voice laced with that endearing weariness you had come to adore, as he walked into the room, tossing his keys onto the side table.

He hadn't noticed the phone in your hands and he pulled off his suit jacket and hung it up on the hanger behind the door. He looked exhausted. "Long day."

"Hi," you replied, your voice a little too high-pitched, betraying the sudden jolt of adrenaline still coursing through you.

You tried to act as nonchalant as possible, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush creeping up your neck, or the way your fingers were still tensed against the phone.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes, usually so bright, clouded with fatigue. "Everything alright? You seem…tense." He took a seat on the sofa opposite you, his gaze intense as he looked at you.

You had been with Charles for a year now, and he was always able to suss something out.

You forced a smile, "Just had a long chapter to read, that's all.” You showed him the book, hoping it would be enough distraction. “It’s quite intense, actually." You pointed to the book, gesturing with your hand. "This guy Valjean, he's been through it."

He seemed to accept your explanation, dropping back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. "Well, whatever it is, you should relax. Maybe we could order some food? I'm starving."

You nodded, relieved. The moment had passed, but the unspoken secret hung heavy in the air between you. The rest of the evening unfolded in its usual way, a comfortable rhythm you both had established.

You talked about your day, laughed at a silly movie, and shared a meal under the soft lamplight. Yet, beneath the surface of normalcy, the secret you harboured continued to prick at you.

He kept stealing glances at you, making you wonder if he might suspect something, but he never said anything.

“So you’re telling me he still hasn’t found out yet?” She asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“No, and I’ll keep it that way,” you replied, your smile fading. “It’s too risky, Élise. What if he thinks I’m a fraud? What if he thinks I’ve been lying?”

“Oh, come on,” Élise scoffed, “He’s clearly smitten with you, mon amie. I can hear it in your voice!”

You sighed, staring out the window at the grey sky. “You don’t know him, Élise. His native language is French, he knows it like the back of his hand. He’d notice if my French isn’t perfect.”

“And what if it is?” Élise countered.

You were about to reply, when you heard his voice from the kitchen. You jerked, your heart leaping into your throat. “I have to go, Élise. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, bisous,” Élise said, and the line went dead.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The roar of the Ferrari engines was a constant hum, a background score to the chaotic elegance of the Formula One paddock. You watched Charles, a whirlwind of charm and practiced ease, navigate the PR games with Carlos Sainz.

They were a study in contrasts – Charles, all focused energy and effortless smiles, and Carlos, a more grounded, almost playful foil. You knew this dance well, the mandatory media obligations that came with the territory of being a Ferrari driver.

You were happy to be a spectator today. You knew, with a familiar twist of warmth in your chest, that Charles would find you later.

You had a few hours of freedom, a rare commodity in this world of tight schedules and constant movement. You decided to explore. The paddock was a labyrinth of team trucks, hospitality suites, and workshops, a microcosm of the competitive energy that fueled the sport.

You wandered, absorbing the sights and sounds, the clatter of tools, the clipped conversations in a dozen different languages. You’d always been drawn to the undercurrents of these places, the human stories unfolding beneath the glossy veneer of glamour and speed.

That's when you heard it – a voice, high-pitched with panic, cutting through the general noise.

"Est-ce que quelqu'un parle français?" it called out, the words sharp and rushed. " S'il vous plaît, quelqu'un ?" Does anyone speak French? Please, someone?

The man, standing near a catering area, was clearly distressed. He was middle-aged, his face flushed, hands trembling slightly as he gestured erratically. A small crowd of staff had gathered around him, their faces a mixture of concern and helplessness.

They spoke encouragingly in English, but it was clear that they didn’t understand a word he was saying, which was why he was getting more frantic.

You hesitated. You knew French, fluently after all. It really was an insecurity you'd carried since childhood, a fear that your accent wasn't good enough, that you wouldn't be considered “truly” French.

Charles, in his easy, casual fluency, only amplified that feeling. It was easier to let him be the French one, to navigate that world without your input.

But looking at the man, his distress growing with each passing second, your resolve crumbled. You couldn't stand by and watch him suffer.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the people, your voice hesitant but clear, "Excusez-moi, monsieur. Je parle français. Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" Excuse me, sir. I speak French. What's going on?

The man's eyes widened, his face flooded with relief. "Ah, merci mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, his hands coming to clasp yours. "C'est terrible! J'ai perdu mon sac, avec tous mes documents et mes clés. Je dois partir cet après-midi, et je suis complètement coincé."

His words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of worries and anxieties. This is terrible! I lost my bag, with all my documents and my keys. I have to leave this afternoon, and I'm completely stuck

You listened patiently, your own French flowing effortlessly as you reassured him. You asked him for details about the bag, about where he’d last seen it.

You found out that he was here for a family visit, and he had to catch a train in the next couple of hours. With a mixture of calm questioning and reassuring words, you helped him retrace his steps.

You spoke softly, your voice a calming balm to his panic. The staff around you, previously frustrated, looked on with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude.

You felt a small spark of pride, a quiet satisfaction in using the skill that you have always kept hidden.

After what felt like an eternity, you spotted it – a small black bag tucked behind a stack of boxes in a corner. The man let out a cry of delight, his face cracking into a wide, genuine smile. "Merci, merci mille fois!" he cried, taking the bag and beaming at you. "Vous êtes un ange!" Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You are an angel!

You helped him check through the contents, making sure nothing was missing. You even offered him some water and a seat to calm him. He thanked you profusely again and again. He finally started to relax and calm down.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you." he said again, this time speaking English clearly, even though he had not, before. He smiled warmly at you.

"It's no problem," you replied, smiling back. A small voice interrupted.

"Hey babe, what's going on here? I saw this crowd?" Charles asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He placed a hand on the small of your back.

"This gentleman lost his bag, and couldn't communicate with anyone here. I was just helping him," you explained.

"Ah, but you were speaking French? I didn't know that you spoke French. Good job ma chérie," Charles said a little surprised.

"Oh, I... I learned some in school," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You felt a flush creep onto your cheeks.

You could feel the lie hanging in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.

Charles tilted his head, his eyes searching your face, "That’s really cool." He turned his attention to the man, addressing him in perfect French.

You watched Charles smoothly reassure the man that everything was fine and offer him any help that he needed. The man seemed mesmerized by Charles, thanking him profusely.

You watched them briefly, the ease with which Charles switched between two languages, how comfortable he was in the role of translator. It was a stark contrast to your feelings of self-consciousness.

“So, should we get going?” Charles said to you, turning to you, his hand finding yours.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You’d helped someone out, and it felt good. But the lie, that little secret you still held, bothered you. More so than usual now that he knew.

As Charles led you away, you could feel his gaze on you, a silent question in his eyes. You knew you couldn't keep this hidden much longer.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows across the Ferrari base. The air, still warm from the day’s heat, hummed with a quiet energy. You lay nestled in the hammock chair, Charles’s strong back providing a solid anchor as you sat comfortably on his lap.

The gentle rocking motion lulled you both, a peaceful rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the quiet whispers of the wind. You’d been dating Charles for a year now, and these quiet moments were your favorite.

Being alone, intertwined, was bliss.

He nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. You closed your eyes, your own breathing slowing, the world fading away.

You’d almost drifted off, the line between sleep and wakefulness blurring, when a voice sliced through the tranquil silence.

“Monsieur Leclerc, le débriefing commence bientôt!” a young voice called out, the French words sharp and clear. Mr. Leclerc, the debriefing begins soon!

You blinked your eyes open, startled, and looked around for the source of the sound.

A young woman, her face etched with a mixture of frustration and relief, stood a short distance away. She was clearly a member of the Ferrari staff, her uniform a stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere you and Charles had created.

“Mademoiselle, je vais bientôt réveiller Charles, alors ne vous inquiétez pas,” you said, the words flowing easily, a comfortingly familiar cadence in your mind. Miss, I'll wake Charles up soon, so don't worry.

You watched her face register surprise, then a wave of relief.

“Merci beaucoup mademoiselle Y/N, je vous laisse faire,” she replied, her voice softening. Thank you very much Miss Y/N, I'll leave you to it.

“De rien, je suis désolé de t'avoir fait le chercher,” you said, a slight blush creeping up your neck. You felt a pang of guilt for making her search for Charles. You're welcome, I'm sorry I made you look for it.

She gave you a small, thankful nod before turning and heading back towards the base.

You were about to nudge Charles awake when you felt a movement in your lap. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, were already fixed on you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That didn't sound like 'school French' ma chérie," he muttered, a playful yet probing tone to his voice. Your heart lurched, and a cold dread settled in your stomach.

You could feel your cheeks flush, the blood rushing to your head. This was it. Your little secret, the one you'd guarded for so long, was about to unravel.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice coming out a little higher and breathier than you intended. You tried to play it off, hoping your denial would be convincing enough. "I learned some French phrases, that's all."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Some phrases? You just held an entire conversation with Nathalie, in perfect, effortless French. Where did you learn that?"

You fidgeted, your fingers toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "Uh...well...you know, it's just...I've always been a good language learner." The explanation sounded weak even to your own ears.

Charles gently tilted your chin up so that your eyes meet. His touch was soft, but his gaze was intense. “Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now. “You’re fluent. Why have you been hiding this from me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your unspoken secret. And you knew you couldn’t lie to him any longer. “It’s stupid, really,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was always just…insecure about it. My native language is English, and I'm fairly average. When I started learning French, which was young, it just came naturally to me. I didn't think I was actually... good. I thought if I spoke it around you, you'd think I sound awful, like those tourists that always try and speak French to you.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

He took your hands in his, his thumbs stroking your knuckles. “Ma chérie, that’s ridiculous. I’m fascinated by languages. I spent so much time learning other languages for the sport, plus how could I ever think you sound awful. You could never sound bad.”

His words were soothing, a balm to your wounded pride. You looked up, your eyes searching his face. “Really?” you whispered, still a little unsure.

He chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “Bien sûr, Y/N. You’re amazing, in every language. And I am so incredibly curious. When did you learn it? How good are you even?” He had a teasing glint in his eyes now, and the tension that had been plaguing you started to dissipate.

“Since I was a kid. My grandmother was half-French and she taught me, always using French. She wanted me to have another language to use. She wanted me to have something special, so I never told anyone in school or anything.” you admitted.

“And you kept this hidden from me? For all this time?” Charles asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You nodded sheepishly. “I thought you would think I was trying to show off, I guess, and I was honestly just scared I’d be awful.”

He squeezed your hands, his thumb drawing small circles on your skin. “You are far from awful, Y/N, and I promise I never would have thought that, ever. But,” he added, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “I do have a few questions. And you're going to have to answer them… in French.”

“bébé, il faut que tu fasses le point avec l'équipe!” you said, the words slipping out naturally in French. Baby, you need to check in on the team!

Charles only grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me, ma chérie,” he said, his tone warm and affectionate and full of love.

“I know I’m so sorry.” you said, putting your head in your hands, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just so scared.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Don’t be sorry, mon amour,” he murmured, his voice husky. “It’s incredibly endearing, and it's one more thing I love about you. You have to tell me everything though from now on okay?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

He smiled, then his eyes glinted with a new mischievousness. “So, you’ve been keeping secrets from me, have you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Only this one, I swear.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning in closer. “I think that deserves a punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, raising an eyebrow, excitement coursing through you.

His lips found yours and he deepened the kiss, pushing you gently back on the hammock. The language barrier was forgotten as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt.

You could feel the passion in him, the soft moaning as he kissed your neck. You could feel yourself falling further and further into him, completely and utterly in love.

It was a long time before you pulled away for air, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

“What was I saying about meetings?” you breathlessly said, putting a hand on your chest, hoping your heart would slow down.

Charles chuckled, running his hand through his slightly dishevelled hair. “They can wait,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours, “There’s something much more urgent that we need to deal with, my petite française.”

You laughed then, and pulled him in for another kiss, knowing that your hidden language was now just another way to connect with the man you loved.

The rain outside continued to fall, a soft and gentle melody to the start of another chapter in your love story.

And you knew, with absolute certainty, that this new language you had shared with each other would only bring you closer, in ways you could never have imagined. . . .

[nasa]

All-Star Moments in Space Communications and Navigation

How do we get information from missions exploring the cosmos back to humans on Earth? Our space communications and navigation networks – the Near Space Network and the Deep Space Network – bring back science and exploration data daily.

Here are a few of our favorite moments from 2024.

1. Hip-Hop to Deep Space

The stars above and on Earth aligned as lyrics from the song “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” by hip-hop artist Missy Elliott were beamed to Venus via NASA’s Deep Space Network. Using a 34-meter (112-foot) wide Deep Space Station 13 (DSS-13) radio dish antenna, located at the network’s Goldstone Deep Space Communications Complex in California, the song was sent at 10:05 a.m. PDT on Friday, July 12 and traveled about 158 million miles from Earth to Venus — the artist’s favorite planet. Coincidentally, the DSS-13 that sent the transmission is also nicknamed Venus!

NASA's PACE mission transmitting data to Earth through NASA's Near Space Network.

2. Lemme Upgrade You

Our Near Space Network, which supports communications for space-based missions within 1.2 million miles of Earth, is constantly enhancing its capabilities to support science and exploration missions. Last year, the network implemented DTN (Delay/Disruption Tolerant Networking), which provides robust protection of data traveling from extreme distances. NASA’s PACE (Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem) mission is the first operational science mission to leverage the network’s DTN capabilities. Since PACE’s launch, over 17 million bundles of data have been transmitted by the satellite and received by the network’s ground station.

A collage of the pet photos sent over laser links from Earth to LCRD and finally to ILLUMA-T (Integrated LCRD Low Earth Orbit User Modem and Amplifier Terminal) on the International Space Station. Animals submitted include cats, dogs, birds, chickens, cows, snakes, and pigs.

3. Who Doesn’t Love Pets?

Last year, we transmitted hundreds of pet photos and videos to the International Space Station, showcasing how laser communications can send more data at once than traditional methods. Imagery of cherished pets gathered from NASA astronauts and agency employees flowed from the mission ops center to the optical ground stations and then to the in-space Laser Communications Relay Demonstration (LCRD), which relayed the signal to a payload on the space station. This activity demonstrated how laser communications and high-rate DTN can benefit human spaceflight missions.

4K video footage was routed from the PC-12 aircraft to an optical ground station in Cleveland. From there, it was sent over an Earth-based network to NASA’s White Sands Test Facility in Las Cruces, New Mexico. The signals were then sent to NASA’s Laser Communications Relay Demonstration spacecraft and relayed to the ILLUMA-T payload on the International Space Station.

4. Now Streaming

A team of engineers transmitted 4K video footage from an aircraft to the International Space Station and back using laser communication signals. Historically, we have relied on radio waves to send information to and from space. Laser communications use infrared light to transmit 10 to 100 times more data than radio frequency systems. The flight tests were part of an agency initiative to stream high-bandwidth video and other data from deep space, enabling future human missions beyond low-Earth orbit.

The Near Space Network provides missions within 1.2 million miles of Earth with communications and navigation services.

5. New Year, New Relationships

At the very end of 2024, the Near Space Network announced multiple contract awards to enhance the network’s services portfolio. The network, which uses a blend of government and commercial assets to get data to and from spacecraft, will be able to support more missions observing our Earth and exploring the cosmos. These commercial assets, alongside the existing network, will also play a critical role in our Artemis campaign, which calls for long-term exploration of the Moon.

On Monday, Oct. 14, 2024, at 12:06 p.m. EDT, a SpaceX Falcon Heavy rocket carrying NASA’s Europa Clipper spacecraft lifts off from Launch Complex 39A at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida.

6. 3, 2, 1, Blast Off!

Together, the Near Space Network and the Deep Space Network supported the launch of Europa Clipper. The Near Space Network provided communications and navigation services to SpaceX’s Falcon Heavy rocket, which launched this Jupiter-bound mission into space! After vehicle separation, the Deep Space Network acquired Europa Clipper’s signal and began full mission support. This is another example of how these networks work together seamlessly to ensure critical mission success.

Engineer Adam Gannon works on the development of Cognitive Engine-1 in the Cognitive Communications Lab at NASA’s Glenn Research Center.

7. Make Way for Next-Gen Tech

Our Technology Education Satellite program organizes collaborative missions that pair university students with researchers to evaluate how new technologies work on small satellites, also known as CubeSats. In 2024, cognitive communications technology, designed to enable autonomous space communications systems, was successfully tested in space on the Technology Educational Satellite 11 mission. Autonomous systems use technology reactive to their environment to implement updates during a spaceflight mission without needing human interaction post-launch.

A first: All six radio frequency antennas at the Madrid Deep Space Communication Complex, part of NASA’s Deep Space Network (DSN), carried out a test to receive data from the agency’s Voyager 1 spacecraft at the same time.

8. Six Are Better Than One

On April 20, 2024, all six radio frequency antennas at the Madrid Deep Space Communication Complex, part of our Deep Space Network, carried out a test to receive data from the agency’s Voyager 1 spacecraft at the same time. Combining the antennas’ receiving power, or arraying, lets the network collect the very faint signals from faraway spacecraft.

Here’s to another year connecting Earth and space.  

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[plutosunshine]

What gifts of destiny do you have? Venus trines

Venus trine Moon

Venus trine Moon is like having a built-in emotional hot chocolate machine. Your vibes? Cozy. Your energy? Comforting. People meet you and instantly want to tell you their childhood secrets or ask if you’ve got snacks (you probably do).

This aspect makes your emotional world and your love language play nice together. The Moon handles your feelings, your instincts, your “aww I saw a puppy and now I’m crying” side. Venus handles what you love, how you show affection, and your overall vibe. When they’re in a trine? They high-five each other and go, “We got this.”

You're probably one of those people who just gets others. Not in a creepy “I know your password” way, but in that warm “I see your heart and I made banana bread” kind of way. Emotional intelligence? Check. Natural empathy? Double check. People feel safe around you—like you’d never judge them for crying over a cartoon or texting their ex (again).

In relationships, you’re nurturing but not clingy. Affectionate but not smothering. You know how to love in a way that feels like coming home. Romantic partner, friend, cat—whoever gets close to you ends up spoiled emotionally and probably also with snacks. You’re basically the human version of a warm blanket that listens.

And let’s not forget the aesthetic instincts. You probably have a knack for making spaces feel lovely and emotionally calming—like, “this room smells like vanilla and looks like Pinterest, how??” You bring sweetness into your environment and relationships without even trying. It’s your natural setting.

So yeah—Venus trine Moon = emotional harmony, effortless sweetness, the ability to cry at sunsets and make others feel like they're not weird for doing the same. You're the friend everyone wants during a breakup and the partner that people write poems about. No big deal.

Venus trine Mars

Venus trine Mars is pure cosmic chemistry—like the universe looked at you and said, “Let’s make someone who knows how to mix sweet with spicy.”

This aspect gives you that effortless charm-meets-confidence energy. You’re magnetic without being overbearing, flirtatious without being cringe, and somehow you make going after what you want look like art. People don’t just get attracted to you—they get drawn in like moths to a scented candle.

Venus is all about love, beauty, harmony. Mars is passion, action, desire. When they’re in a trine? They’re vibing. That means your inner lover and your inner go-getter are on the same page. So whether you’re trying to start a creative project, impress a crush, or pick the perfect outfit—you're guided by this smooth coordination of wanting and doing.

In relationships, you’re probably equal parts affectionate and exciting. You know when to be soft and when to bring the fire. You’re not just charming—you’re compelling. The kind of person people remember as “ugh, they were just so attractive and cool and I don’t know why.”

And in creative work? That Venus-Mars flow gives you the perfect mix of inspiration and execution. You don’t just daydream about your Pinterest-perfect life—you might actually build it. With mood boards. And maybe some dramatic eyeliner.

Also, your relationship with pleasure? Healthy. Balanced. Not too much, not too little. You know how to enjoy life, and you probably have great taste—whether it’s in people, playlists, or what snack to pair with a good movie.

So yeah—Venus trine Mars is a gift. It makes your energy feel aligned, attractive, and easy to act on. You’ve got the cosmic green light to be a little flirty, a little bold, and a whole lot of magnetic.

Venus trine Jupiter

Venus trine Jupiter is like the universe handed you a giant, glittery “YES” stamp for life. It’s the ultimate feel-good, good-vibes-only aspect. Venus is love, beauty, charm. Jupiter is luck, joy, and expansion. When they team up in a trine? You radiate warmth like a freshly baked croissant in the sun.

People with this aspect are blessed with big hearts. Like, “randomly buys coffee for the person behind them in line” energy. Your kindness isn’t performative—it’s just how you operate. Generosity is your love language. And when you love someone? Whew. They’re getting affection, encouragement, snacks, emotional support, AND possibly travel plans.

You're also probably a little lucky in love and money—even if things get rocky, Venus trine Jupiter folks tend to bounce back with style (and maybe a new haircut). The universe seems to have a soft spot for you. You attract abundance because you live in that mindset—there’s always more beauty to create, more love to give, more joy to find.

You might have a natural sense of aesthetics too—big, bold, joyful beauty. Venus-Jupiter doesn’t do minimalism unless it’s “Italian villa minimalism.” Think lush colors, dramatic earrings, and laughing at your own jokes while wearing fabulous shoes.

In relationships, you bring sunshine. You’re romantic, optimistic, and probably the type who plans cute dates with themes. You don’t love small—you love out loud. And people feel good around you because your energy says, “You’re safe, loved, and we’re probably going to brunch after this.”

And honestly? You make people believe in good things again. You're the human version of finding twenty bucks in your coat pocket and someone telling you your aura looks amazing today.

So yeah—Venus trine Jupiter is the gift of a joyful heart, big love, and the kind of sparkle that makes life feel a little more magical. ✨

Venus trine Saturn

Venus trine Saturn is like the cosmic version of "loyal with taste." It’s the aspect that says, “Sure, I can fall in love—but only if it has emotional maturity, long-term potential, and maybe a five-year plan.” And somehow, you make that sound hot.

While Venus is out here flirting, curating playlists, and swooning over aesthetics, Saturn strolls in like, “Okay, but can we build something real?” And when they’re in a trine? Boom—magic. You get that beautiful balance of heart and structure, softness and stability. You're the person who brings flowers and remembers to pay the bills.

In love, this aspect makes you steady, loyal, and probably way more romantic than you let on. You might not write love poems in public (unless other parts of your chart say otherwise), but your actions? Speak volumes. You show love through commitment, support, and actually showing up—consistently. You’re the “I’ll help you move apartments and won’t complain once” type. And honestly, that’s rare and wildly attractive.

You're also really good at knowing your worth. Venus brings the charm and Saturn brings the standards. So you can enjoy romance without losing your head (or your dignity). You’re not likely to chase fleeting drama—you’d rather invest in something meaningful, even if it takes time. And your love? Ages like wine.

Creatively, you combine beauty with discipline. You can turn aesthetics into something practical—art that sells, style that lasts, design that works. You might even have a gift for turning hobbies into long-term projects, or making your creative side pay rent.

And money? You’re probably responsible with it. You enjoy life’s pleasures, but you’re also thinking ahead. Venus trine Saturn is the person who saves for vacation and packs snacks for the plane.

So yeah—Venus trine Saturn isn’t flashy, but it’s gold. It’s commitment, grace, and long-term glow-up energy. You don’t just love deeply—you love wisely. And that? Is beautiful.

Venus trine Uranus

Venus trine Uranus is the cosmic version of “I love you, but let’s keep it interesting.” It’s the kind of aspect that adds ✨spice✨ to sweetness—think electric charm, creative rebellion, and a love life that’s anything but boring (in the best way).

Venus is all about love, beauty, connection. Uranus is the planet of surprises, freedom, and “Wait, what if we did it completely differently?” Put them in a trine, and you get someone who loves with a twist.

You’re probably effortlessly magnetic—not in a loud or over-the-top way, but in that “who is that and why do they look like they just stepped out of a dream I didn’t know I had?” kind of way. People are drawn to you because you feel exciting, original, and genuinely yourself. You’re the cool breeze on a hot day, the plot twist in a rom-com, the person who can pull off silver eyeliner at brunch.

In relationships, you need spark—and freedom. You’re affectionate, but you’re not about that clingy life. You want connection that breathes. You’re into people who can surprise you, challenge you, or at least talk about weird science facts at 2 a.m. You might fall in love fast—but if it turns routine and stale? You’re already mentally redecorating your life.

And your sense of style? ICONIC. Venus-Uranus people often have amazing taste that’s just a little ahead of the curve. You might wear things that shouldn’t work… but totally do. Your aesthetic says, “I make my own trends,” and people follow.

Creatively, this aspect is genius. Literally. You get flashes of inspiration that feel like lightning bolts. One minute you’re folding laundry, the next you’ve invented a brand new art style or business idea. You thrive when you can innovate, experiment, and break a few rules in the name of beauty or fun.

Basically, Venus trine Uranus is the gift of loving freely, creating boldly, and dancing to your own (very catchy) beat. You don’t just think outside the box—you turn the box into a disco ball.

Venus trine Neptune

Venus trine Neptune is pure dreamboat energy. It’s the "poetry in motion" aspect—the kind of placement that makes you love like a movie, create like a muse, and daydream like it's a full-time job (with benefits).

Venus is love, beauty, art, connection. Neptune is magic, fantasy, spirituality, and soft-focus filters on everything. When these two are vibing in a trine? You’ve got a heart that floats. You don’t just feel love—you merge souls. You don’t just like pretty things—you fall in love with sunsets, songs, strangers’ handwriting, and maybe even clouds.

You radiate sweetness, compassion, and that ethereal softness that makes people think, “Are they real… or are they a character in a romantic French film?” There’s something dreamy and gentle about you, and people feel it. They might not even be able to explain why they’re drawn to you—they just are.

Love, for you, is spiritual. You're the type who writes little love notes, dreams of soulmates, and maybe secretly wants someone to slow dance with you in the kitchen at 2 a.m. You believe in love. Deeply. Even when the world gets cynical, your heart quietly insists: "No, it's still real."

Creatively? Oh, you’re a vibe. This aspect brings serious artistic potential—music, dance, painting, writing, photography, design—all of it. You create beauty that speaks to the soul. Even if you’re just decorating your living room, it probably looks like a Pinterest board made by an angel with excellent taste.

You’re also super empathetic—like, “accidentally cried watching a stranger reunite with their dog” levels of emotional openness. Your kindness isn’t performative; it’s just who you are. But that does mean you need to protect your energy, because you can absorb emotions like a sponge in a telenovela.

So yeah—Venus trine Neptune gives you the gift of beauty, love, and enchantment. You’re the heart-softener, the daydream-weaver, the cosmic reminder that love can still be tender and real. Just maybe keep your feet on the ground while your head floats in the stars. 💫

Venus trine Pluto

Venus trine Pluto? Ohhh baby. That’s the slow burn, deep soul, intense eye contact across a crowded room aspect. It’s magnetic, emotional, and just the right amount of mysterious. Like, you might not even say much, but somehow people feel like you see right into their soul—and weirdly, they kind of love it.

Venus is love, beauty, connection. Pluto is transformation, power, and everything that simmers under the surface. When they’re in a trine, you get the kind of charm that doesn’t ask for attention—it commands it. Quietly. Intensely. With raised eyebrows and smoldering vibes.

In love, you don’t do shallow. You want all of it—the passion, the soul bond, the “I’d help you bury the body” kind of loyalty. You’re not out here for flings (unless your Gemini placements are protesting)—you want to be consumed, in the best possible way. You crave real connection. None of that situationship nonsense.

People with this aspect tend to attract deep, powerful love stories—sometimes even life-changing ones. You’re the person others never quite forget. (Even if they try. Which they will. But they won’t succeed.)

There’s also this quiet confidence to you when it comes to beauty and attraction. You don’t need to follow trends or be loud about it—you just know how to work with what you’ve got. Venus trine Pluto is like wearing perfume that no one can place, but everyone keeps leaning in to smell.

Creatively, this aspect is fire. You can turn pain into art, passion into poetry, and longing into something unforgettable. You’re drawn to beauty with depth—music that aches, films that stir something, aesthetics that say “there’s more beneath the surface.”

And honestly? You’ve probably done some serious inner work in your life. You know what it means to grow through love, to heal through heartbreak, and to come out the other side even more powerful. Venus trine Pluto gives you the gift of transformational love—the kind that changes you, and the kind you give to others.

So yeah—this aspect isn’t light and fluffy. It’s rich, deep, powerful, and just the right level of “I feel things too hard but I make it look cool.” You’re the storm and the stillness after.

[goldenroutledge]

i must be dreaming

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

prompt: ❛ you’re lucky that you’re cute. ❜

a/n: for my wonderful moot @yearneir, thank you so much for the request! i had so much fun writing this <3

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“Knock, knock!” Two knocks sound through the door of Lando’s hotel room, followed by the familiar cheerfulness of Alma, the hotel’s concierge. “Delivery for Mr. Norris!”

Lando’s muscles ache with a soreness that weighs him down into the softness of the duvet, having sprawled out face first onto the bed the second he got back from another long day of testing. The winter months are always the shortest, often flying by more quickly than the season does.

His mind is tired as well, struggling a bit extra to get back into the swing of things after months away from being in the car. He doesn’t recall ordering any room service but if he did, he’s more out of it than he previously thought.

With a sigh of reluctance, he drags his feet towards the door of the stylish hotel suite. His vision is blurry as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and instinctively checks the time on his phone that reads 8:03pm. Definitely way too early to sleep for the night, but a power nap has never hurt him before.

Sure enough, Alma is waiting on the other side of the door with a bright smile and a silver platter in hand. “Good evening, Mr. Norris. I was instructed to bring this to your room along with this letter.”

He takes a deep breath, as if the surprise delivery will make more sense when he gets some more oxygen flowing to his brain. “Oh, thank you. Who’s it from?”

Alma smiles coyly but won’t reveal too much. “I can’t say, but your answer is in the envelope. Can I get you anything else while I’m here, sir?”

“Just Lando is fine.” He politely corrects. “I’m okay, thank you though.”

“Have a nice evening.” Alma disappears down the hallway, leaving Lando to his letter and mysterious silver platter. He’s seen enough movies to know that there’s usually someone’s head under these. His first name is written neatly on the envelope and what catches his eye is the red heart stamped into the wax seal.

He remembers the date, February 14th, and blushes at the thought of you. The both of you had been corresponding on the phone like usual, of course confirming that you had received the bouquet of flowers, chocolates, and a few pieces from your favorite designer that Lando made sure to have delivered to your home, with a promise that he’d be able to properly wine and dine you in a week’s time. He carefully lifts the seal, a childlike grin spreading across his face at the sight of your neat handwriting.

-

My dearest Lando,

It pains me to be apart from you, but the distance will let our hearts grow fonder. I hope you enjoy the present I’ve prepared for you.

Yours truly,

Y/n.

P.S. Call me when you get this. XOXO.

-

His hopes are high for whatever’s underneath the silver dome, perhaps some comfort food like a classic Roast dinner that reminds him of home, just like his Mum makes.

Lando lifts the silver to find not a warm meal, but cold and slimy rolls of sushi making the shape of a heart, dipping cups of wasabi and soy sauce resting in the center.

“What the hell?!” He yelps, visibly startled by the sight. “She knows I hate this stuff.” He’s scrolling to the favorite contacts in his call log, instinctively clicking your name.

When you answer on the second ring smiling like the Cheshire Cat, Lando knows he’s been set up.

“Is this your way of breaking up with me? Sending a plate of fish to my hotel room on Valentine’s Day?” Your laugh pierces through the phone, and he’s still dumbfounded as to how you managed to pull a prank on him all the way from Monaco. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to know that I’m soy into you. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe!”

“Aw, very clever. I hope you know that I’m gonna get you back for this. What fruit was it that you are mildly allergic to again? Starfruit, was it? I’m sending 50 starfruit arrangements to our house as we speak.”

“With all the risks you take at work, I’m amazed that sushi of all things has become your greatest fear. How is that?”

Lando scoffs, “I am not scared of sushi.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Sorry love, the proof is out there. But I wanted you to know that I love you anyway.”

“I love you too.” He grumbles, but there’s no bite behind his words. Lando finally takes a better look at you, but doesn’t recognize the wall in the background. He doesn’t recognize the wall behind you from your house, that is. He looks around his suite, now puzzled as to how your background matches the exact color of the hotel walls. Interesting. “Wait, where are you? You’re not at home are you?”

“I’m in a place that people temporarily call home?” You offer with a mysterious edge to your words and he subtly catches on. You can see the gears turning for him, the realization visible on his face when he moves toward the door once again.

“Wait a second… Are you HERE?! At my hotel?” His incredulous tone translates from the speaker on your phone to reverberating in your ears, behind his hotel room door that you’re standing in front of.

The door swings open and you’re reunited with those sparkling cerulean eyes you know so well. He takes a pause, glancing back and forth between his screen and you, now within arms reach. Wasting time would be a foolish thing to do. Without a care he drops his phone in exchange for cradling your face in his hands before smashing his lips onto yours. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his frame, relishing in how warm he feels against you.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He breathes out, as if his life depends on saying it.

“Surprise! I missed you too, clearly. I’ve been wanting to try my sushi prank for a while now and this gave me the perfect opportunity. Had to get you riled up with something you hate so you’d be extra happy to see me.”

“Not necessary.” Lando murmurs against you, peppering kisses to your lips. “I don’t need anything extra, you know that. It did serve as a nice surprise, though. Definitely better than the sushi.”

You giggle as he shudders at the thought. “Forgive me?”

“You’re forgiven,” Lando sighs, unable to resist your pleading eyes and the warm notes of amber in your perfume that captivate him, “but I hope you know that if anyone else did this to me, and I mean anyone else on this planet, I would not speak a word to them for the rest of my life. However, for you, I can make an exception. You’re lucky that you’re cute.”

You kiss him sweetly, holding hints of satisfaction behind your smile at how well your plan has been executed. “Don’t worry, I plan to make it up to you. It is Valentine’s Day, after all.”

“Just when I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, how did I get so lucky?”

You pinch his cheek teasingly. “You do look exhausted still, are you sure you’re not dreaming of me?”

Lando catches your wrist and presses a kiss to the skin, content with knowing that he’ll dream of you tonight and wake up beside you tomorrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

💌: thanks for reading, comments & reblogs are always appreciated!

psst… my requests are open :) be my valentine blurb event 💌

taglist: @marjorieswrld (add yourself here!)

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Choose One" Sinners Fic Teaser

Choose One by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore' (aka Smoke and Stack in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners") Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Explicit Sex, Supernatural Elements, Romance, Some Violence, Polyamory, and Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Author's Note:

The rest of this will go up late Sunday night. It is Pre-Sinners movie so nothing is spoiled. (I haven't seen the movie yet anyway!)

"Empty his pockets (see-line)

And wreck his days (see-line)

Make him love her (see-line)

And she'll fly away (see-line)"

Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"

She fucked them both.

Smoke and Stack.

Seducing the twin brothers was easy, but confusing at the start.

She met Stack first. The gold in his teeth gleamed in the light of the Sunset Café, one of the most popular Black and Tan clubs in the Bronzeville section of Chicago. Lena Blackwell worked behind the bar instead of the floor, where jam packed circular tables faced an at- capacity dance floor moving to the sounds of the latest jazz band snazzed up in tuxedos.

Although the Sunset Café advertised itself as a supper club and a popular music venue, people along the stroll knew it was a higher class speakeasy. Unlike other clandestine establishments with secret code words whispered to get in and concealed entrances to deceive law enforcement and politicians, the Sunset owners paid off low-salaried policeman to look away. Their mob ties kept money in the right pockets to warn of raids and shakedowns from other gangsters. People wanted liquor and any other spirits they could get their hands on in a city that was supposed to be as dry as the Sahara.

Stack slithered over to the far end of the long polished mahogany table with a toothpick wedged between his gums. For over twenty minutes, he rapped to her while she tried to keep the prohibited drinks flowing.

"You should come work for me," he said, sizing her up with blatant lust in his bold brown eyes.

"I'm not a whore for you to put on the stroll, mister. Order another drink or leave me be."

He gave her a crooked grin with his sexy lips, then admired her perfectly coiffed hairdo styled with pin curls and slathered in Sweet Honey Brown pomade. Lena cut him to the quick.

"I know a pimp when I see one," she snapped, mixing drinks for one of the female servers.

"I ain't mean it like that baby. This is a legit business proposition. I'ma go back home and open a juke. I need a talented drink mixer such as yoself."

His delta accent was raspy and thick like overcooked grits. He was one of them sorry souls who migrated from the dirty south. She wondered if his feelings got hurt when he discovered the north was no different than the low down red necks he ran away from.

"Mmm hmm," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious. Think about it. Lemme have some cold water," he said.

Lena reached down into a false shelf and poured Stack some high grade illegal moonshine. She slid the glass to him and he guzzled it down.

"Stack!"

Lena tilted her head to see the caller.

Well, damn.

The head of the Bronzeville syndicate gestured toward Stack. Ernie Miller, the Black godfather of the south side, was wide in the gut and built low to the ground like a bulldog. A dangerous cat, who carried a switchblade known to cut throats on a whim.

Stack slid a fat wad of cash out of his pocket and laid a crisp twenty on the counter.

"Keep the change for your tip," he said, winking at her.

The change from his tab would cover her rent for two months.

He stuffed the rest of his money in his pocket where a shiny set of brass knuckles dangled and left the bar to join Ernie. For the first time, Lena took notice of Stack's finely tailored brown suit and the sharp creases in his pants. He had syndicate connections. A gangster. And a good tipper. She watched him enter a secret door in the back and never saw him again that night.

Two days later, as she started work at the bar, she spotted Stack nursing a drink at the far end, listening to an older barfly chat away to him. He drained the last of what was in his glass and Lena offered him some cold water.

Stack looked at her in confusion and shook his head in the negative.

She worked her shift, expecting Stack to hit on her at the bar again, like most men did.

He didn't.

"Cat got your tongue tonight, mister?" she teased, wiping down a spill near his arm from another patron.

He stared at her and then turned away to watch chorus girls tear up the Black Bottom dance in short dresses. Maybe she'd been too curt for him last time, and he took the hint. Ironically, that made her take a sudden interest.

He was tall, fine-looking, and a sharp dresser. She wondered if he smelled as good as he looked. Her eyes stayed on him until he wandered off to take an empty seat next to Ernie in a far left corner with some other broad-shouldered men.

"What was he drinking?" she asked another bartender.

Max, a reed-thin high yella man with a nasally voice, glanced at her.

"A South Side and the last glass was some Smoke."

"Eww, he likes that Smoke shit? That could kill him," she said, crinkling her nose.

"Them ex soldiers like that cloudy fuel alcohol."

"How you know he's an ex soldier?"

Max held out his hand and wiggled it.

"His hands. They shake a little bit. Lotta them war boys came back messed up."

Lena couldn't imagine the jovial man she met the other night acting shell-shocked. She reached under the bar and grabbed some gin. Adding some lime, sugar, and a bit of mint, she made a fresh glass of South Side.

"I'll be right back," she said.

Her heels click-clacked on the floor and she passed several raucous tables enjoying the floor show. Ernie had stepped away to talk to some people two tables over. She placed the South Side in front of the ex soldier.

"Thought you might enjoy this better than that rot gut you were drinking earlier," she said.

He glanced down at the drink and a slow smile raised the corners of his lips. No gold on his teeth. She studied his features, his hair, and the large build of his body. This had to be the same man.

"What they call you around here?" she asked.

"Smoke."

"Not Stack?"

He showed more teeth and some dimples.

"No. Just Smoke."

He had a twinkle in his eye and he chuckled softly.

"Where you from?" she asked.

"Mississippi."

"You really opening a juke down there?"

He squinted at her, but before he could answer, Ernie returned.

"Let's go," Ernie said, grabbing his coat.

The soldier stood and brushed against her. She looked up into his eyes and shivered. He reached down for the drink she prepared for him and sipped it down in front of her.

"Thank you," he said, handing the glass back to her.

She clasped it with both hands, feeling woozy by the scent of his cologne. He grabbed his suit coat, and she glimpsed the gun in a holster strapped to him.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice soft like cotton.

Lena stepped aside and touched her forehead. The man had her breaking out in a sweat.

Two more men caught up to them near the bar and that's when she gasped, seeing double. The man who called himself Smoke greeted his twin brother Stack. Lena returned to her post and Stack peeled back his lips, showing her gold in his mouth. She ended up grinning, and he leaned an elbow on the bar.

"You look even more beautiful when you smile," Stack said.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical, but the personalities, their auras…so opposite.

One thing was for sure, seeing them together…she was smitten.

And she wanted them both.

Author's Extra Note:

Masterlist HERE.

Please support the writers in this new "Sinners" fandom. Reblog, Comment, Like, all that good shit. Black content often gets overlooked and there are too many good writers creating amazing work out here. Thank you for reading and get ready for the rest!

[thecoochiefairy]

━━ 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑒 .ᐟ toji + suguru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They should’ve expected this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” she chuckles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” She tilts her head, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get suspended from the next game?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look so fuckin’ pretty,” Toji groaned.

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

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

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

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

“Fuck that. You can take more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was gonna make shit extremely complicated. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ sure?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He replied in a cocky manner. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was gonna be a long night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck was so funny? 

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

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

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

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

Toji clenched his jaw, “I see that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off, you ain’t my damn daddy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How could you let it get this bad?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what are you gonna do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

suguru’s emo ass:  

we need to talk. come to my room. 

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

me: 

now?

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

suguru’s emo ass: 

hurry up.

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

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

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

Both Toji and Suguru were sitting in the room. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we…try something?” 

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

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

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

Toji nods, “Yeah. Okay.”

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

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

Sweetie says, “I’ll uh…go first.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I care about you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She cried softly, “Suguru…”

“What? You want me now?”

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“No you don’t.”

“I—I promise…” she brokenly moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then cum again,” Toji grunts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toji glares, “You started it.”

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

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

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

“Fushiguro, shut the fuck up.”

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

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 17

Part 1 [...] 14 15 16 17 18

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, violence, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: my mum and i got into an argument after my cat died and now i remember why i wrote this | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @astrogirl01

You walk across the dragon pit, making your way back to Laenor, who was petting his mount. "Hello."

He turns and smiles, "hello. He watches how you pick the petals of the flowers he gave, "where's-"

Before he can finish, the sound of a dragon screeching and soaring of echoes across the pit. His own dragon huffs and bleats, making you turn to it.

"What's the name of your mount?"

Leanor looks at you as you near the beast, "Seasmoke— eh," he dashes in front of you, "careful," he takes your arm, "he's not hostile, I don't think, but then again, he's my ride and I'm biased. Regardless, Seasmoke is, in fact, a dragon."

"Ah," you step back, "forgive me, I-"

"Found yourself very comfortable around Caraxes?" Leanor smiles at me, rubbing your arm, "I'm surprised. The wyrm is rather cranky..." he leads me to his dragon, "not unlike his rider, no?"

Your eyes remain on him as Seasmoke screeches. The dragon sounds nothing like Caraxes, neither does he look or even smell the same, which you think is rather interesting.

"You may touch him if you like," Laenor smiles, stroking his dragon's scales. Seasmoke purrs, almost like a cat.

You rub your hands before touching the beast, "rytsas." Hello.

Laenor's brows quirk.

"Skorkydoso gaomagon gaomā?" How do you do?

He chuckles, "when did you learn High Valyrian?"

"While you and Daemon were in the St-" you squeal when Seasmoke shoves you with a roar, earning an equal reaction from his rider. Laenor snaps and swats his ride, commanding him to obey, to be gentle.

Your heart races and continues to against yourself. You clutch your chest, feeling a telltale uncomfortable tightening. Gods, please, not in front of Laenor.

You vaguely hear him chide the dragon for being cheeky in High Valyrian, and you suppose he says something to you, but your lungs are too constricted for you to hear. For a moment, as you feel your legs begin to buckle under the weight of your breath, or rather, lack thereof, you realize you were treating Seasmoke awfully familiarly. He gave you a simple correction, and now your weak heart was going to make him look like a villain.

"Apologies for— prin-" Laenor grunts as he catches you just as you topple. You crumble into his chest and drop your flowes. You both end up on the floor as you try to catch your breath.

Laenor looks around. He orders the dragon keepers to bring his ride to the pit and he pulls you into his arms, "can you stand?"

Stand? You can barely breathe.

Your silence, paired with the tangible tremors of your body, is enough answer for him. He maneuvers around you, arms wrapping over your form. His stomach drops at the greyness of your skin, but he tells himself he's merely imagined it. He quickly carries you out of the pit.

Alternatively, Daemon is idle in the sky. The sun beats down on his skin as the wind scratches through his hair. There is no thrill in it however, no reprieve. What's more, Caraxes seems to stagger halfway through the flight. The usual agility of his lithe body dwindles the longer they fly, and his rider is rightfully concerned. He turns back before they go very far.

When they arrive at the pit, Seasmoke is no longer there. Daemon is alarmed by the way Caraxes lands. It's not at all like his usual demeanor. He drips into saddle and yelps when Caraxes flops and crashesbelly down on the ground. The dragon keepers are as equally concerned as Daemon upon witnessing this.

Daemon dismounts and gazes upon his mount. One of the senior keepers asks him, "skoros iksis pirta lēda Caraxes, ñuha dārilaros??" What is wrong with Caraxes, my prince?

"Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon," Daemon mutters, "ziry massitas hen daoriot." I don't know. It happened out of nowhere.

The prince watches as one keeper brushes Caraxes by the snout. The dragon huffs and closes his eyes, rolling on his belly. Daemon's brows furrow tightly and his lips part. This was severely unlike his vicious mount— falling prostrate? He was deeply concerned.

Daemon explains to the keeper that his dragon was well earlier today, in the funeral, and when they just got back from it. It was only after they had flown again did Caraxes begin to act rather dreary.

The keepers try to feed Caraxes but he does not eat. They try to bring him into the pit, but he does not stand. It troubles Daemon. He does not wish to leav, but as much as his heart aches for his companion, it bleeds for you.

"Laenor."

Laenor freezes upon hearing your voice. He had already managed to carry you halfway towards the maester's ward when you regained your voice. He looks at you, brows furrowing at the sight of the tears you'd silently shed. He speaks your name.

"Will you set me down?"

Laenor nods and slowly brings you to your feet. You wobble against the young prince and lean your weight into him as you find your footing. You shudder, struggling to keep yourself upright. A shameful heat wraps around your body. I hate to have you see me like this.

"Hush," Laenor mutters, guiding you to the window sill.

You look up at him, brows furrowing.

"Are we not friends?" he tilts his head, "do friends not help friends?"

Gods... you had said that aloud. You were losing yourself. You shake your head, "yes, but-"

"But what?" Laenor purses his lips, "but if I could not find the strength to stand, surely you would do all you could to help me."

You frown.

He follows suit as you sit by the window. He squeezes your arm, "it's just me, the same Laenor you wrote heartfelt letters to."

Your brows furrow. You gulp as your throat tightens, "I never wrote to you about my affliction."

He shrugs, taking your hand in his, "it is your prerogative what you do and do not wish to tell me."

"I am dying."

He does not respond.

"I'm already dead inside."

He hums, "how macabre," he looks off, "I was rather hoping you'd bring up something more mundane, like how the drapes in these halls are rather plain, considering the fact we are in the capital castle."

You stare at him for a moment.

He looks back at you, "it's safe to say the king cares little for drapes."

You snort and shake your head.

A faint smile spreads across Laenor's lips. He squeezes your hand, "I suppose that is good. A king has much more to worry about than the drapes that drape across his halls."

You release a deep breath. The heaviness of your shoulders become apparent to you. You tentatively lean into Laenor's shoulder; he shifts towards you, offering his arm.

"You hark aimlessly so like my twin."

He steals a glance of you, lips curling into a soft smile, "you speak this as if you believe it would offend me."

"It should."

He chuckles and examines the texture of the wall in front of him, "to be likened to Ser Gwayne is an honor."

You snort and roll your eyes, "it should not be. He is ugly."

"He has your face."

"He does not!" you pull away to look at him, "pray tell, do you think I am comely?"

Laenor looks at you. He purses his lips where yours curl mischeviously.

You raise your brows and snort, "my point exactly."

"Your beauty is simply not to my taste."

"But my brother's is?!" you exclaim, "he has my face!"

Laenor rolls his eyes, "he does not."

You swat his arm.

He raises a brow at you, pretending to be offended, though it barely lasts. He instantly melts at the sight of your smile. He smiles back, "I am glad to know banter livens your spirit."

Your expression softens, "I am glad to know you will be living here."

"Yes. Perhaps initially. You might soon find me irritating like mine own sister does."

You share a chuckle. You shake your head and come to a stand; the prince immediately does the same. You link arms with him and begin walking, "might I show you the gardens, my prince?"

He thinks for a moment, "should you not go to the maester's?"

"They have nothing for me but scolding and milk of the poppy," you tighten your hold on his arm, "the roses are in full bloom."

He nods, "very well."

You saunter to the gardens with no sense of urgency whatsoever. Laenor is good at concealing his worry over you, but unfortunately, you are better at sensing other's agitation over your affliction. You fill the walk with hushed chatter, "you cannot like my brother more than I. I wish to hold your affection."

Laenor turns to you, brow raised, muttering, "you hold my affection."

"Yes, but you've not met him, yet still you prefer him," you whisper.

He looks away, shrugging, "I think he is pretty but I do not prefer him. If I recall correctly, he drank much during someone's nameday and became rather less pretty to me."

You chortle.

Laenor chuckles, turning back to you.

You look at him, thinkinv his eyes are very kind. Your smile turns into a frown as you squeeze his arm, "where were you when they were forcing me into marriage?"

His jaw feathers. He rubs your hand, "you do not want me as a husband. I would not satisfy you."

"I would not ask you to."

He shakes his head, "I do not think I would be able to give you heirs."

You tighten your hold on him, "I do not think I would either."

He frowns, "I-"

"Daughter."

The two of turn back, finding the Hand of the King rushing towards you. Normally, such a sight would cause you concern, but presently, it made you feel only exhaustion... and dread. You pull away from Laenor, preparing to face your father.

You huff when Otto reaches you. The first thing he does is place a hand on your cheek, "are you well?"

You frown and nod, "yes."

"The servants say your husband left you in the pit and your affliction flared. Prince Laenor," he offers him a glance, "had to carry you off."

"I am fine," you mutter, shaking your head, pushing him away.

He lowers his hand, "have you gone to the ma-"

"I'm bringing my friend to the gardens, father."

Otto stiffens. Laenor notices the way Otto's hands clench; he clears his throat, "she has told me pl-"

"Forgive me, my prince, but it would be best if my daughter goes to-"

"The gardens," you blurt, "to show my friend my flowers."

Your father mutters your name.

Laenor knows the argument is quickly going to inflame. He steps forward, "the princess assured me she is well enough—"

"She is not well," Otto blurts, "she just burned her children and fainted in the pit-"

"Why do you despise me?"

Laenor stiffens where he meant to take your arm. Otto altogether loses his words.

You huff at his terse expression. You clench your teeth and turn to Laenor, "perhaps I ought to show you my garden another time."

The prince furrows his brows. He mutters your name slowly.

You shake your head and manage a smile, "perhaps after supper?"

Though he was rather reluctant to leave you in the thick of it, Laenor nods. He squeezes your arm one last time and gives your father a curt nod, "Lord Hand," before walking off.

"Have you gone mad?"

You turn to Otto. He is seething with rage.

"You would speak so carelessly in front of-"

"My frien-"

"He is not your friend," he blurts, stepping forward, "today? Tomorrow? He is promised to Rhaenyra and-"

"He is my friend!" you interrupt. "And my question does not involve him but you, my lord." You shake your head, "why do you despise me?"

He scoffs. He feels his collar tighten around his neck, "you think I despise you?"

"No," you mutter, "I know you do."

He scoffs once more and wipes his face with a sigh, "you stupid, fucking girl."

You feel like you're drowning as tears stream down your face. Your father paces and you gasp when he suddenly walks off. You watch him take large strides, only to stop at the end of the hall to turn back to you. Your heart races when he storms back with a finger pointed at you.

You gulp and step back, but you do not trust your feet to take you very far, so you end up freezing in your spot.

"You are ludicrous!" he pokes the air, "and you are wrong!" he pokes again, face red as he comes back in front of you.

You shudder when he grabs your shoulders and shakes you slightly.

"Despise you?!" he snaps, spittle spattering to your face. He releases you roughly, his chest rising and falling, "you unwitting pup! You've no idea the measures I've gone to ens-"

"DOES IT MATTER?"

Otto clenches his teeth so hard his head shakes.

Your outburst costs you all the air in your lungs. You care little to chase after it, "you fed me to your enemy! Left me to die!"

"I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT PRESERVE YOU!" he screams, loud enough that his voice echoes in the hall.

Your ears ring and your struggle to breathe.

"Out of all my children," Otto's voice comes out shaky, "I have not lost sleep and coin as much as I have for you."

You manage to reply through the thrumming of your chest, "then you have your answer."

Otto's face hardens as he screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. He wipes both hands across his face in exasperation, "I do not despise you."

"Look at what's become of me," you bring your fists into your chest. You chuckle dryly, "perhaps if you despised me more, I would be better."

"All I've ever done is to better you!"

"Like how you forced me to bear children?!" You quip, "my body could not keep them!"

"If you did not do this, you would have been casted out or killed!" he raises a finger, "you did your duty."

"I did what you wanted-" you groan, "AND IT IS NEVER ENO-"

"ENOUGH!" he snaps and you flinch. Otto grabs your arm, "you are hysterical."

Hysterical. You wince at his tight grip. How you loathe the word. Though you knew it was pointless, you still attempt to wrangle out of his strong clutch.

Even in his vehement vexation, he does not force you to stop. He loosens his grip, speaking your name.

"Release me," you mutter, heart racing.

"No," he mutters, "you need a maester."

You whimper and yank at your arm, "father."

His stomach rolls. For a moment, he hears the voice of his young child begging for his presence. His grips tightens, "let me bring you to-"

"I hate you!"

Otto clenches his jaw. He mutters your name.

"You will not let me be happy. You will not let me die."

He shouts your name.

"Release me!" you whimper, begging to feel light headed.

Finally, he does.

You gasp when you topple into a wall. You are shocked when arms come around you. You turn, breath staggering, eyes meeting the hard face of your husband.

"If you ever touch her," Daemon mutters, hands clutching your waist and arm. He pulls you into him, "if I even hear that you touched her- nyke hobrenka kivigon jaehossi uēpossi arlȳssī-" I fucking swear by the old gods and the new—

You can feel him trembling against you. You will yourself to breathe in deep to try and calm yourself. Your hand comes to his cheek.

Otto draws breath, "my daughter is-"

"Do NOT fucking call her that," Daemon snaps as he pushes you upright only to bring you behind him. His hand clutches the hilt of Dark Sister, "it matters not who sired her— she is my wife."

"She needs medicine," Otto blurts raising a hand, "she is in hyster-"

"Of fucking course she's in hysterics!" Daemon growls and steps forward, "you're her fucking father—"

The Hand scoffs.

"— It's a miracle she's withstood the poison you've been sledging into her throat since gods know when. You're the reason she's fucking sick-"

"DO NOT," Otto barks, "speak to me of her—"

"Daemon!" you grab his arm as Daemon presses closer to him.

"Ivestragī nyke ossēnagon zirȳla!" Daemon barks, eyes fixed on Otto. Let me kill him!

He repeats this twice, leaving you in a fit of tears. The sound of your staggered cries is the only reason he stays his hand.

Otto watches as you crumple into Daemon's arms. He feels helpless to see the monster clutch your cheeks and hold you close. He can see you struggle for air, and it makes his own breath hitch. He feels an overwhelming sense of horror overcome him.

Daemon's brows furrow as you shake your head. He wipes your tears before carrying you and walking away.

Otto stands there, balked, torn, angered, hurt, resentful, tormented. He watches the devil usher you deeper into his hell.

"Maester?" Daemon mutters as he hurries down the hall.

You shake your head.

He makes a sound, "are you certain?"

His throat tightens as you grip his collar, tugging it ever so slightly. You shake your head, "bed."

He nods, heading to your chambers.

When you arrive, Daemon is quick to sit you upon your bed, leaning you on the headboard. He removes your shoes and undoes the braids in your hair. He is gentle, far gentler than anyone who has ever touched your hair.

His face is grave when your tears do not cease. He notices that your breathing is still heavy and ragged. Images of the day you nearly died flash in his mind's eye. He stops undoing your hair and takes your hand, kneeling beside you on the bed. His eyes begin to water, "you must breathe."

You groan and turn away from him, pulling your hand with you. You strangle out, "it is difficult."

Daemon whimpers, kicking his shoes off. He climbs on the bed and sits beside you. He rubs your chest and leans on your shoulder. He cannot help himself; he kisses your neck, "please-"

"Daemon."

"I- I-"

You grab his wrist and shake your head again.

He clenches his jaw as you lower his arm to your lap.

"I can do it."

He gulps and nods slowly.

You inhale deeply and exhale slowly.

Daemon squeezes your hand. He is restless.

"When I die—"

"Stop-"

"— you cannot kill him."

He makes a terrible sound. He shakes his head, "do not speak to me of this."

"I must," you squeeze him, "he deserves to suffer me, to flinch each time my name is spoken."

"Do not die to spite your father," Daemon grunts, "spite him with your life."

You close your eyes and sigh, "and what if I do not want to live?"

You gasp when you hear him whine. Daemon crumbles into your lap. He squeezes your hands tightly, "speak no further... I beg you."

You look down at him. Your heart aches. You sigh and brush his hair, "I would not kill myself. You know this."

He turns his head, one eye peeping up at you, "am I supposed to be comforted?"

"Yes," you blurt, "be sure that when I pass, it is my time."

Daemon sits up, "and what if he kills you?"

You sigh. You take a moment to calm yourself before reaching for his face. He instantly presses his hand over yours and leans into your touch. You rub his wet cheeks, "my father would not kill me."

"Yet he does."

You feel Daemon clench his jaw.

"Slowly... subtly."

You lean your head back. You whimper at the feel of the braids that were still not undone. You pull away from Daemon to undo them yourself. He's about to help you, but then you mutter, "get me shears."

"... why?"

"I do not wish to fashion my hair ever again."

He looks at you for a moment before standing. He heads to your vanity and quickly finds what he is looking for. He reluctantly hands it to you and you gratefully take it.

He watches you undo your hair wholly and bring it to one side. You bunch your dark strands together and haphazardly try to cut it. You cannot, your hair is too thick and the blades too dull; it barely cut parchment. Still, here you were trying to cut your hair. Daemon is silent as you do.

You grow frustrated and look at him, finding his eyes are fixed upon your tresses. Your eyes water, "am I hysterical?"

Violet eyes meet your glassy ones. He strokes your head, "you are my wife."

You grip the sheers tightly before lowering it.

Daemon frowns, "did you not enjoy my braids?

"I-" you stare at the shears, "that is not why."

"... would you like me to help you?"

"No," you look up at him, handing him the metal object, "I am hysterical."

"Do not listen to that cunt," he takes the shears from you, putting it back in its place. You watch him crawl beside you again. He takes your hand and frowns, "you are far tamer than you ought to be."

You raise your brows at his words. You reciprocate his hold and rub your thumb against his skin, "you would feed my madness."

He gazes at your sad face and shrugs, "we could be mad together."

You chuckle.

His heart skips. He squeezes your hand.

"You mean to tell me you aren't yet mad?"

Daemon dares to lean into you.

You do not pull away when he rests his head upon your shoulder.

He whispers, "no."

You feel him bring your hand to his chest. You feel him kiss your hand.

"You are my sanity."

You feel him kiss your neck. You shudder.

Daemon is entranced by your scent. He soon has his hands brushing around your torso, pulling you close to him. He breathes you in like air, because you were his. He buries his face into your hair. Gods, he's missed this. Gods, he's missed you.

You close your eyes and sigh, palms brushing up his shoulders. He takes this as permission to kiss you more, so he does. He peppers his lips across your skin, down your throat, across your neck. He clutches you into his chest, willing you into his ribcage. You gulp and melt into him with a sigh.

The sound encourages him. He pulls you down to bed as if you were weightless. Your skirt hikes up in consequence, and he hisses when he repositions you and feels the bareness of your thigh.

Daemon breaks the kiss, panting like a dog as he examines your from. He gulps, mind reeling at the skin your dress no longer concealed. He remembers what you told him in the garden, how you no longer loved him. He slowly withdraws his hand, feeling it trembld.

You watch as he battles with himself. You dig your fingers into his collar, urging him to look at you.

He does, pupils blown. Your name slips past his parted mouth.

You rub his shoulder, "do you want me?"

"Fuck," he laughs manically, "d-do I want you?"

Goosebumps prick on your skin as he rubs up your thigh. You feel your breathing heavy as his nails dig into the flesh of your hip.

He draws a deep breath and whispers, not trusting his voice, "I want you."

You huff and close your eyes. Your tug his top and part your legs.

"Fuuuuuuck," Daemon whines through a sigh, sinking his head into your neck as he slots himself between you. He curses again when he hears you whimpe. He wraps your thighs around him.

He bucks into you. His teeth nip your jaw. Your nails scratch up his nape and tug his short hair. Your eyes water.

Daemon could peak from this alone.

You mutter his name.

He moans and squeezes your thigh in response.

You whimper as you feel his erection against your core. Your lips wobble. You press your face against his and whisper, "I'll let you put a babe in me again."

Daemon turns to stone.

You begin to breath heavily again.

His voice is muffled, "what?"

"I said I'll let you put a babe in me again."

He lifts his head. His eyes are reddish and his brows are furrowed. Little did you know you mirrored him, if not worse. You were crying, and you couldn't even feel it.

"And then w-hat?" his voice cracks.

You clutch his cheeks.

"And then you die?"

You brush his chin. You cannot reply.

He chokes on your name and screws his eyes shut. He buries his face into your neck and shakes his head. He sinks into you, but he's no longer hard, just sad and desperate.

"... if gods be willing... I'd have a reason to live."

"I am unwilling to gamble."

You lean into his head, "it's always a gamble, affliction or not."

Daemon lifts his head and looks down upon you. He rubs your cheeks frantically as he says your name. He mutters, "I do not even have you yet. Do not be so eager to leave me."

You close your eyes, relishing the feel of his thumbs on your face.

He kisses your forehead, "give me a chance. Please."

You sigh, "I'm exhausted."

His hand trembles, "please."

Your brows furrow.

He examines your face restlessly, brushing your skin in hopes it will coax the answer he wants.

"I'll try."

He breathes a sharp sigh of relief. He kisses the corner of your mouth, "thank you."

[pricetagged]

MEDIEVAL SCAMMER GHOAP?! Please enlighten us🙏🙏🙏

Since you both asked so nicely, have a snippet of a whisp of a concept😅

I have an idea. Not fully fleshed out. I could go in two directions, either historical Ghoap working as Pardoners and taking advantage of ignorant village reader (corruption kink, religious themes, abuse of power etc.).

OR, for my monster-lovers, has anyone seen Dragonheart? I was picturing, like, one of them is something beastly, the other plays at knight = profit? Fantasy scam and rescue? So, it would go something like this:

(Tw kidnapping and kind of mean Ghoap)

---------

Your situation didn't look any better flipped on its head. Flipped on your head, rather. Snatched and thrown over a bulky shoulder, high– higher than even your standing position. It was discomfiting; it was terrifying. Blood rushed to your face not only in fury but also in shame as your skirts fluttered in the breeze.

He noticed, too. His greedy fingers dug into your thighs, skimming down like he was soothing a skittish horse. But you felt the way he lingered. The way he chuffed and squeezed tighter when you kicked out with all the strength of a skittish colt.

Your fists pounded uselessly against heavy splint-mail, hands-catching on rough nodules and spikes that didn't quite register as pain. Not to your panic-stricken mind, thoughts flying off in the wind behind you as the beast carried you off.

But the smack registered.

Perhaps it was the sound, the harsh slap of flesh on flesh. Whipping crack, like the snapping of a great branch. The precursor to an eerie stillness, violence begetting obmutescence. And it worked–

–for a second. For the time it took for your stinging nerves to catch up with your racing mind. Then you howled. Kicked and clawed and hissed like a feral cat as tears welled in your lash-line.

"How dare you–"

"Quit yer fashin'. Ye'll bring the whole kingsguard down this way–"

"–good–"

"–and then I'll have tae kill them all," That had your attention, legs tense under the heavy band of his bicep. "Dinnae much feel like sharin' ye around."

"Oh, you beast! You foul, vile, disgusting–" Your voice was high, words scratching as they hitched out of your aching throat.

It hurt to speak, vocal cords already shredded from the way you'd screamed when he'd first ransacked your village. Coughing on heavy, acrid smoke and crying futile warnings about the Black Knight and his monster-in-arms ('Quiet, girl. Viper-tonged harlot, slither off and for gods' sake, quiet!') . But it hurt more to be silent. You flung insults like broken arrows, hoping that they would somehow land. That they would hit, fortuitously, and pierce the thick-hide of this brute. But hope is vain, and the fancies of men make gods laugh.

You landed hard on something soft.

Ego almost as bruised as your knees, you kept your eyes low. Sweeping. Marshy, wet silt. Topsoil sluiced off, only mud and clay and reeds to your right. A cheerfully babbling brook just beyond, water murky and discoloured with backwash from– the water flowed past the estuary of the village so it must be– no–

The realisation was caustic. Mordant. Burning at you like the scorched air in your lungs.

"You're a monster," you spat the words, mouth watering in your haste to let ichor drip forth and blacken him as much as the foul, brackish water ahead.

"Noticed that, did ye," he laughed, words glancing off like feeble blows. "Best not tae piss me off, then. Stay there and behave yersel'. Company's comin'."

Glancing up at him was like a blow to the stomach, wind punched out and body shaking. You already knew that he was big, inhuman. But now you could see every inch; monstrous, twisted mockery of natural features. Like a man formed of rock, too immense and hard and jagged to pass for anything but artificial. Counterfeit. Contranatural. Creation's bastard. All tusks and teeth and shorn hair. Hair everywhere, even down his bare, bulging forearms and thick knuckles. Coarse, dark.

His eerie, bright blue eyes blazed around black, pupils wild and blown. It could be the thrill, cruel playfulness of an apex predator. Berserker-wide, coming down from the kill–

But he'd been carrying you for a while, bloodlust long-since sated on the men and manse of your homeland.

You shivered, sweat and cold mingling in a discomfiting damp that raised the hairs on your arms. (The hairs on the back of your neck were already needle-stiff and prickling).

You pocketed a stone, a big jagged filthy shard. One you hoped could bruise and slash and poison, turn wounds weeping and sick.

Now that you were silent, he seemed especially strident, swaggering around the barebones of what you supposed must be a dwelling. You felt the slight whistling of air from the cave behind, cavernous and black. If you had to run, to hide, you'd take your chances with the forest and river ahead. To be lost in the appetites of the mountain abyss would spell death as surely as at the hands of this creature.

You watched him, cocksure and comfortable as he shucked off his warhammer and began unbuckling his braces. If you could read the snarl of his crooked teeth, you'd perhaps say he was in high spirits. He sent you a wink as he shrugged off his splint-mail, gravelly laugh echoing in the cavern behind.

It disguised the approach of your visitor.

"Grabbed the wrong one, Johnny," you shrieked as something grabbed your forearm, hauling you up. Looking down you saw the muted sheen of a spiked gauntlet. Black patina, flaked in iron rust. You swallowed hard, lump in your throat so big that it caught any words that might try to escape. Him. The Black Knight. The Liar. 

"Ye said to grab the pretty one by the fancy house."

"She's not the magistrate's daughter. No ransom for her." He spun you around, metal biting hard into your chin as he arched your face towards his.

Cloaked in ink-black helm and visor, you could just about peer in to meet his gaze. He looked back with cold, assessing eyes. The voice that rumbled forth was as harsh and breccial as you remembered, words rending you apart with serrated precision: "Not worth a rescue mission."

He released your chin with a final shake of your head, huffing amusement as you rubbed at the thin scratches he left behind.

It was hard to breathe now, stomach swirling and head-light. Even if you could will yourself, it wouldn’t help. There was already a faint coppery smell leeching from the Knight; your heart recognised it even if you would not give name to it. It sped up, fast enough to rush past your ears with discordant force. 

You didn’t feel the other one step up behind you, not until it was too late. There, trapped between man and monster (man the monster), tight enough that you couldn't even shiver. You felt the power of the creature even more now without the armour, all muscle and fat, sheer power close enough to sink your fingers into. But you couldn't move, your shallow breaths already catching in your throat into soft, hitching whines. 

"Shh, it's alright, bonnie," Rough, clumsy fingers swiped under your eyes. You felt him crouch lower, stubbly hair and tusks digging into your powder-soft cheek. "Looks like we're gonnae have tae keep you, then."

------------

[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

[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.”

[meowrimo]

˖˙ 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 💋

[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

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

You do your best not to let anyone else die, are given a tour of your new homeship, and see a grown ass man eat pizza for the first time.

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3] [22] [24] [Outfit ref here] [Chapter Index]

23 * Champagne [12.1k]

"Yeah, I don't know if you like me, Sometimes I think you might hate me, Sometimes I think I might hate you, Maybe you just wanna be me."

Girl, So Confusing - Charli xcx

        You bolted upright, sleepiness gone in your newfound panic. You and Gray watched in abject terror as a familiar face in an unfamiliar outfit strode into the room. You knew which Mark it was instantly, but it was strange to see Mohawk in anything but his torn body suit. Now he wore something more formal, befitting an alien emperor. It was still skintight, clinging to every muscle, mostly dark gray with lighter gray accents on his cuffs and down his chest, sporting a sigil you didn't recognize. Around his waist, a skirt began, blooming out from under one of the lighter accents belt. That same dark teal you associated with him flowed behind his moving legs, in the same color tights that disappeared into thigh high almost cowboy style boots. You didn't judge the outfit or how strange it was because he was going to fucking murder Gray.

        You leaned over Gray, caging him under your body. It was an unfamiliar feeling, being protective over someone who wasn’t yourself. Suppose you felt it for your cat, now in another universe being spoiled by Cecil Stedman. But Caligula was an animal, Gray was, well, not entirely human but still. You were not letting another person you'd come to care about in the vaguest of terms (you told yourself) die. 

        "Stay back." You hissed. Hesitant to use your powers right away. Wondering if they'd even come. 

        "It's okay," Gray said as he gently but firmly pushed you off. Pride was important to a Viltrumite. Having a human protect him bruised it severely. He was not so weak to be unable to defend himself. Plus he could sense no animosity from the man, not even sparing him a glance, only watching you. 

        You kneeled back on the bed, unsure of what to be more surprised by, Gray or Mohawk's actions. The emperor stopped in the middle of the room with a smirk and a gleam in his eyes. "I come in peace. Good to see you up and active." He said, not sounding threatened in the slightest. His eyes slid over to Gray. "Nice job there, bud." 

        Oh fuck, he did have cameras. 

        Yet Mohawk made no move to liberate Gray's head from his shoulders. He went on looking back to you, "Little rude not letting ya'know thee Emperor get some first but I get it- you felt like you owed him." He nodded to himself, "We'll have to have a chat about boundaries later."

        Your brow eased tension. You'd gotten to know Mohawk in the desert, not the best, but still. You hadn't expected him to be so relaxed about this. This had to be a bait and switch. The second you let your guard down, he was going to rush forward and kill Gray. Except, he didn't have to wait, he was faster than you and your words, he could do whatever the hell he wanted. By all logic, he wouldn’t do it at all.

        Still, you stayed kneeling on Gray's bed protectively much to his humiliation, especially when the Viltrumite doctor shuffled in behind Mohawk.

         "What is this?" You spit, watching the doctor pause next to Mohawk, waiting for approval to approach.

        Your venom was expected. You'd always been overly defensive, even if it was a little annoying. "Jeez, getting all their wounds healed has made somebody cranky. You're welcome, by the way." 

        You visibly relax at this. Remembering whose medbay you were in. Good, Mohawk thinks, maybe we do have something to work with here.

        "If you two are done fuckin', doc's gotta check on your vitals."

        You stayed in place a moment longer. Giving Gray a look to check if he was okay with this. He was, but he was also very much against you, a weak human, trying to be the strong one for him- in front of the emperor of Viltrum- even if it was himself. Deciding his face isn't too horrified, you slipped off the bed. Mohawk nodded, the doctor moved forward, going for you first. 

        He did the exam right there, with you standing in the middle of the medbay. Had you do some minor physical tests you remembered doing in elementary school. Then he pulled the disc out of your arm which apparently was full of a cocktail of Viltrumite-made medicine. Instead of telling you the all clear, he told Mohawk who grinned at your obvious annoyance. 

        The doctor moved on to Gray, whose elevated temperature and heart rate were an alarm. "You shouldn't be experiencing a fever, even if it’s low grade," the doctor said, checking and rechecking the disc in his gut, "it's not possible with your-"

        "It's not a fever," Mohawk said. "He just blew a load, did some physical activity, that's all."

        The doctor went ramrod straight, hands flying off Gray like he'd been burned. "Oh yes, of course. Other than the hm... elevated levels of serotonin and his temperature, he can leave the medbay after I do some more checks, but I suggest leaving the healing cache in another day or two."

        "Cool, cool," but what Mohawk really cared about was, "how about that guy?" 

        You didn't expect him to want an update on Gray, let alone Phantom. But there he was patiently listening to the doctor as he translated the digitized chart that was all Greek to you. "He's nearly stable. The lab team has informed me they're almost done with the prosthetics. They should be ready for connection within a day or two. I say we keep him intubated until then."

        "Whatever gets him working faster," Mohawk said. 

        Both of their backs were to you, watching Phantom float mindlessly in the chamber. You could walk out right now but you knew it was a fool's errand. You were on an alien spaceship with no way to get home- you kind of had to watch and see what would happen. Once you figured things out, you'd use your powers to get the fuck out of dodge. Getting nursed back to health was cool and all but being kidnapped wasn't. 

        "So are you going to tell me what the fuck's going on or what?" You asked.

        The doctor spun around, looking ready to clutch his pearls. He opened his mustachioed lip to spit an insult but Mohawk's cackling stopped him. Mohawk spun, skirt-cape swaying behind his legs. "I know it hasn't even been a day since last time we talked but God babe, I missed you." He laughed a few more moments until the sound petered off into jumpy breaths. He met your glare and said to the doctor, "Call the council if you need anything, I'm gonna be busy a few hours."

        "Yes sir." You barely heard the Viltrumite say as Mohawk stalked toward you. You stepped back, once, twice. Wondering if now was a good time to attack. Mohawk disappeared from your view in a flash. Your stomach dropped.

        Then, you felt a thick arm wrap around your elbow like you were his hot date down Hollywood Boulevard. You jumped at the contact and tried to snake your arm away, but Mohawk only pinned your elbow between his arm and side. "You wanted to know what the fuck was going on, yeah?"

        You stopped fighting. He smiled, "Good." He moved then, walking fast out of the room making you trip over your bare feet to keep up. You shot a look back at Gray who was watching you go with a level expression. "He'll be fine." Mohawk said as the door automatically slid open. "Won't even be worrying 'bout you long, he'll be sleepin' like a baby in five minutes. But enough about him," he stepped into the hall, taking you with him, "I've got a few surprises for you."

        "Everything is a surprise because I don't know what's going on." You looked up and down the hall. Slate gray and smooth both ways down. The hall was hexagonal, rectangular slits of windows evenly interspersed every few yards. Doors are so flush to the wall you wouldn't know they were there if not for their mechanical outline. 

        Mohawk watched your eyes. "You get used to how sci-fi it is after awhile." He tugged you along, "Come on, I can tell you more while you stretch out your knees a lil more."     

        The hall was never-ending. There were plenty of doors to go into, some bigger than others but Mohawk never took you through them. He talked on and on; explaining the bare face of his plan. Fix the damage his absence had done. Use the other Mark's to stop the leak of power. You had a similar reaction to Markus about Scars and Lensless state of still living- which he expected and explained why. There simply weren't enough officers left to fix the empire while they waited for their half-human children back on Earth to finally get their powers. 

        "But don't worry, I've got some of my best shadowing them, babe, you're completely safe."

        "I don't feel very safe." You said despite being in the safest place in the universe- on the Emperor's arm. You just didn't know it yet, Mohawk couldn't wait to prove it to you. 

         "Don't make that face." He pinched your cheek. You jerked your head away. Playing hard to get only made him want to chase harder. "I'm working on fallbacks if they lose Thula and Lucan. Plus, when we're done fixing shit, you can kill them yourself."

        Finally, the scowl was wiped from your face, you sweet, bloodthirsty thing. "I thought you said-"

        "The empire has a problem but it'll be fixed and when it's fixed, I'll let you choose how they die. I've got a few ideas but I'm sure by then you'll have way more than me." He laughed, "I'm looking forward to seeing what you'll do."

        On one hand, he was implying your future survival. On the other, Scars and Lensless being alive was directly paramount to that survival. "I want them as far away from me as possible. Shouldn't be hard, this place is fucking huge." You were sure you'd walked a mile by now. Your knees were starting to get creaky. 

        "Last I checked, the ship's three miles long, half a mile wide." The ship was filled with near identical halls like this one. Running up and down the hull like airy veins.

        "You're kidding." It'd be easier to avoid them than you thought.

        "What? Poor little baby can't handle walking?" Before you could reply, your knees were swept out from under you. Secured in the crook of his elbow. Again he holds you like a princess, though this time you aren't passing out. "Lemme help us both out and stop you from complaining."

        You hadn't been complaining but he'd been waiting for an excuse to pick you up. Out in the desert, he had to be careful with his affections for survival reasons, here he could do as much gross PDA as he wanted. Being the emperor had its perks. 

        Now you complained. Telling him to put you down, saying you could walk, but he knew your body needed to rest. Unfortunately, you did too. 

        It was a miracle when the hall took a turn. Opening up into a wider space where other halls converged. Blue banners, the same shade as Mohawk's skirts hung high from the ceiling. Partly covering the roof windows showing off the darkness of space. Again, you were relieved to see stars. This universe was alive, filled with stars and planets, not circling the drain like the place you had been stuck. Just the blinking stars you were used to on Earth would have impressed you, but up here in orbit, there was no smog or light pollution to gray the colors and hide distant planets. You could stare at it for hours, but Mohawk kept moving. 

        "This is where I hold bigger public council meetings and where I record stuff to send to agents or colonies or whoever's stupid enough to rebel." He said. You followed his eyes to the crux of the room, a slightly elevated platform with a stark white background with that same sigil on his chest, outlined in gray. You saw no camera or screens. "Viltrumites are suuuuper against anything not being like, sleek or aerodynamic or whatever. Everything's tucked up in the walls. You'll definitely see me use it soon. Gotta tell the whole universe I'm back somehow." 

        You weren't entirely sure if the universe was waiting for that announcement. Maybe they'd hoped the empire would stay quiet, fizzle out. Maybe they'd rejoice. On TV Omni Man had said the empire were the good guys, as long as no one fought back. "Think people will be relieved?"

        He huffed a laugh as he passed the room by. "No. They think we're totally corrupt but we're the ones with literally all the solutions to their problems. Their fault so many of them fought back. Imagine, having the easy way out handed to you on a silver platter and you spit at the server." He looked down at you, "That's just plain stupid, right? Only makes sense we correct 'em until they learn to listen."

        You had a feeling he was talking about more than rebellious alien planets. Submitting to this, to him, would be easier. You had done it for Machine Head, had become a background character in your own life, but Mohawk wanted more from you than Machine Head had ever wanted.

        You changed the subject, "Where are we going?" He'd left the room, took another hall much larger than the last. Shorter too, you could see a large door at the end. 

        "Told you it was a surprise but-" he paused in front of the door. Something in the walls vibrated and you felt a tingle go over your skin. The system sensed the Emperor's DNA and one of the few with access- you- and let the door smoothly slide open. "This is our room."

        The walls and floor matched the colors of the outer halls. Smooth and polished, thick windows faced the outside to the left and right. In the room's center was a king size bed, made up with fresh blue and gray sheets. Either side it the outline of unopened doors.

        Shoved against one of the windowed walls was a long desk and comfy looking chair. A stack of reports and further empire updates sat in its center, waiting to be gone through. Mohawk rolled his eyes at the sight. He hadn't told Kregg not to drop off the reports, but this was obnoxiously efficient. He'd almost forgotten how fast things were expected to be turned around in the empire. Whatever, they could wait until after takeoff. He could sit you in his lap, make the chore go by faster one way or another.

        The rest of the room was plain. He never spent much time in here, always out on some mission or dealing with some political whatever. The Viltrumite side of him never saw fit to decorate beyond what was needed. Dad had kept this place well furnished. Mohawk threw everything out. Replaced the bed, got a new desk. He didn't want to breathe a molecule of his dad's weakness. Yet here he was, sleeping in his room. He liked the view, liked how close it was to the important parts of the ship, but he still despised that it was Dad's and now it was his like the whole empire.

        "You like it?" He asked even though it's clear to him, you think it looks empty- un emperor-like.

        "It's a room." That gave him pause because the first time he brought you here, the dead you, you'd said the exact same thing. It settles into him now- you were back in his bedroom, in his arms, hovering over the same spot by the door he killed you in. 

        He set you down fast, like you burned him and was instantly at the other side of the room. Pressing a button so expertly flush to the wall, it was near invisible. A chamber opened but he didn't see what was inside, his eyes gone glassy, his heart hammering in his chest. What if he put you down so fast he shattered your legs? What if he killed you again? What if he-

        "The surprise is clothes?" You said behind him, sounding very much alive. Sounding snippy and rude and not soft and fawning like the other you had been- that traitorous bitch he loved so much. You wouldn't get the chance to betray him. He'd groom you not to and if that failed... well. He needn't think of those plans now, not when things seemed to be on track.

        "Not just some clothes, a walk-in closet full of 'em." He hovered deeper into the new room. The walls were rife with fabric hung off hangers. One was populated by a shoe rack that went so high there was a rolling ladder next to it. A bench sat in the very middle. He'd seen you sat there a million times, trying on another shoe and sock combination when you were already late to whatever meeting he was dragging you to. He should've left you there, fussing over clothes instead of taking you along, but he could never bring himself to leave you. 

        You, the dead version of you, loved clothes. He was unsure if you held the same interest or style. It had been a mild shock to see you again for the first time in such a bummy outfit.

        You followed him inside. Eyes never staying in one place long. There was always a piece of clothing shinier and gaudier than the next. Some you could maybe see yourself wearing. Some were so out there, they had to be from another planet, most likely they were. 

        It was surreal. Walking into her closet, smelling her in the air- it smelled like your own apartment. You felt a pang of homesickness but this place wasn't yours. There was no cat hair sticking to every soft surface, no gross stain in the ceiling. You walked forward until you caught yourself reflected in a full-body mirror set into the one ungarmented slit in the wall. You wondered if she looked the same or if she was as different as Mohawk had been to your Mark. You wondered how she looked in these clothes, so fine and well tailored you could never hope to afford a single one. Yet here you were, inheriting it all. 

        Mohawk was eerily quiet for some odd minutes. You were too. Not knowing what to say but feeling oddly close to tears. You held them back. It felt weird to mourn for a dead version of yourself. Dressed Barbie-doll pretty at the Emperor's side. She must've been so scared all of the time, must've cared so much about the people the Empire was oppressing, Mohawk had said she betrayed him, but you didn't know what that entailed. Just that you were none of those things.

        You couldn't wear any of this. It was too much.

        "So where's your closet?" You asked.

        Mohawk was stiff when he turned around. "Don't have one. My section's right here." He reached an arm out, touching a small array of clothes. A fraction compared to everything else. It was all deep grays and blues. Variations of Viltrumite uniforms you assumed. "She always wanted to get me more clothes but there's only so much Kregg will let me wear without laying into me. Like yeah, I'm the Emperor but that guy lectures me about culture like nobody else." Kregg hadn't ever had to tell Nolan any that. Nolan had fit right in like a perfect puzzle piece where Mohawk was more irregular. He'd always sensed the older man liked his father much, much more than himself but it was never a problem, so he never brought it up.

        You went to inspect it, to see if you'd fit into any of them.

        You saw it then, it stopped you dead in your tracks, the very same outfit you'd worn to prom. The prom Mark skipped and left you alone at, only to show up at your stoop hours later. Except she'd had it tailored better, somehow prettier. You wanted to burn the thing, to burn this whole fucking walk in. Instead you said, "You were together awhile?"

        He followed your gaze, eyes going soft, his own memories clouding his vision, "On and off since high school." He shows you his belly, his weakness. 

        "Were you friends before?" You remembered it so vividly. Meeting Mark in middle school after you were moved again. New state, new city, new people looking after you. He was your hallway crush a long time before you ever spoke. You could vaguely remember reading a borrowed, torn-up copy of the first issue of Seance Dog in study hall.

        He leaned over from his seat right next to yours and said, "This first issue totally sucks but stick with it. It gets really good." From there, it turned into a simple school friendship. You never had enough classes together to talk. He offered you his number to keep in touch but you didn't have a phone. You missed that connection as middle school turned to highschool. Then he started coming into your work. It'd been too long since you've talked to start things where you'd left off plus, he'd gotten way hotter. You'd both changed, he hadn't even remembered you were from middle school until you told him. 

        The second time he gave you his number, you had a phone. Things snowballed quickly. You remembered falling hard, fast. Remember the emotional fallout more vividly.

        "Neighbors." He said. "We were always around each other in school and stuff but I didn't notice her till, you know," he held his hands in front of his chest. Of course. "You?"

        She really was different from you. She got to live suburban. You were shooed from place to place. Only made sense after what you did but still. Part of you hated her a little for having such a good life- then living it with Mark like a fucking idiot. 

        "He came into my work."

        "That coffee shop, right?" His eyes light up at the memory. You can almost see her, seventeen, in uniform with all sorts of accessories your boss would hate. You were too scared to go against dress code like that, couldn't lose your job no matter what. You were angry at your imaginary version of a dead girl.

        You knew it was a bad idea. You shouldn't ask, but you did anyways. "She live with her parents?" 

        "Oh yeah. Man, your pops hated me. Always was tellin' you to break up with my ass and date William instead even though he was super not interested. Shit, and your mom-"

        "Don't act like I'm her." You said quietly, staring at the outfit that seemed so ugly in retrospect. His face fell a degree, confused, you could smell the blood in the water and blindly bit. "I wasn't some rich bitch who lived with their parents in a hundred-thousand dollar house."

        Mohawk's chin goes back, as if struck. He thought you had a good thing going, where had this aggression come from? "Are you good, babe?"

        "No." You snapped. "I'm in some stupid dead bitch's closet! I'm not wearing any of this shit." Even if some of it looked comfortable or nice or cool. "Just give me a generic uniform or something. If you don't, I'll just wear this." You gestured down to the hospital gown. Really not wanting to do as you said but willing to- just to not wear any of this.

        He blinked, processing. Suppose he should've expected some lashing out. Still, he didn't appreciate your tone, didn't like the way you talked about her.

        "You really are different." He said, reaching out into his small section of the closet. "She was never stupid enough to talk to me like that." He pulled out a suit similar to his own, but with much less markings and no skirt at all. He threw it at you. You caught it no problem but the fabric hit you hard. "It'll morph to your body." He moved past you toward the door. "I'll be out here. Let me know when you're changed and feeling like less of a bitch."

        You glared at him as the door slid open. "Fuck you." 

        He cracked a nasty grin. Sliding easy back into his old antagonizing role. "Oh, you will." The door slid shut and you were alone. 

        As it turned out, Viltrumites really didn't wear underwear. That dead bitch had plenty of lacy sets but you avoided them. So you stepped naked into Mohawk's suit. The fabric loose until you zipped the thing up the middle. The fibers tightened then until it clung to your skin. Huh, so that's how they did that. 

        You stayed in the closet awhile. Simmering in your own angst, surrounded by overindulgence. You hated every pretty outfit you wished you could've grown up wearing. Hated that you were so jealous it hurt. Hated that you hated her because she was murdered and was literally you.

        You exited the closet to find Mohawk sitting hunched on the bed. Back to you, going straight soon as he heard the door whoosh. He turned, impatience on his tongue that fell away as soon as he saw you in his clothes.

        He's up, in front of y ou, hands hovering by your side because in this room- he was scared to touch you. Still, he couldn't help himself, "Why did I never think of this? God damn, you look good."

        "Because you don't think." You said.

        He was expecting your ire now. Took it gracefully with a grin. "Ah, so you left the closet still feeling like a bitch. Think I can help with that," he leaned onto his desk, gesturing for you to, "bend over. We can be a few minutes late to the lab."

        You walked past him. He lingered, watching your ass. Holy fuck. You stood in front of the door as it slid open, having no idea where you were going. "I want my own room."

        "Not happening." He stood, pleased that you waited for him at the door, that you wanted to be led like a good bitch. "Don't trust the others not to try something while you're sleeping." The validity of that statement was worrying. You don't argue to his delight.

        "Fine. What's in the lab?"

        "Angstrom, obviously."

        You didn't know what you expected. A clear wall with a bedroom, Hannibal style. Maybe a goo chamber like Phantom. You weren't however, expecting Angstrom Levy restrained in thick machinery centered around his head. Tubes were attached to nearly every naked rib and to every visible fold of his engorged brain, ending in needles so fat they pushed away surrounding skin in a dimple. Where there wasn't tubing, there were chains, blood, or both. A single Viltrumite oversaw a buzzing group of green-skinned alien scientists. 

        The Martians were the second planet behind Earth to feel the closing fist of the Viltrum regime under the new Emperor. At first they resisted but quickly, within minutes, surrendered. Most of the population was killed as punishment. The rest onboarded to the empire for their scientifically minded brains and shapeshifting abilities. The empire didn't often employ spies but they had their uses.         

        Mohawk didn't use them to spy. After you died, he had them shift into you just so he could hold and talk to you again. But it was never right, they didn't understand human turns of phrase, didn't move like you. He tried filling the void with a harem of them trained to act like you but it never did a thing for him. One of the first things he did upon returning to the empire was send them back to the labs to work so you wouldn't see. You couldn't fathom how deeply desperate he was for you to love him back, and he knew the display wouldn't help.

        Mohawk leaned on the railing that overlooked the room, wondering idly which of the identical aliens he'd slept with before. "You can really tell these little fuckers were bored without me cuz look at 'em go. Like, I told 'em to be rough with the guy but hah, this is worse than what I was thinking." At those last words, a scientist looked up, face morphing into terror at being watched by the Emperor. The same man who killed much of Mars' population despite their surrender. Mohawk yelled down at him, "Nice job, dickheads!" This didn't reassure the Martians at all, but the Viltrumite nodded in thanks. 

        "What are you doing to him?" You asked.

        "Makin' sure he can't back outta the deal we made. Guy promised me other dimensions and I'm gonna get 'em. Just gotta cut whatever power he's got outta him then kill him. Easy." 

        There were so many things you could ask but you only cared about, "You're not letting me go home, are you?"

        "What home?" He huffed, "Said it yourself, you didn't have one."

        You reared on him, shoving a finger into his hard chest, "I had an apartment before you fucking destroyed it." 

        "Still don't have a home then." He lifted his arms to the high ceiling, twisted with piping, pumping whatever chemicals into Angstrom Levy's limp body. "Just accept it babe, this is your home now."

        "You kidnapped me."

        "I'm giving you a better life because the one you talked about having? Sucked." His brows press together when you don't fall to your knees and start graciously sucking him off. "Seriously, what're you so mad about? You were powerless there and now you get to fucking rule the universe with me." 

        Your face slackened at the mention of power. Before this mess, you'd mulled over the idea of climbing the ladder, getting more power. Had never gone after it seriously but now it was just... there for the taking. You didn't have to work for it. You were suddenly skyrocketed to the top. No more street or desert scrapping. 

        Mohawk saw the cogs turning in your head. Goes right for your vulnerable heart, putting hands softly on your shoulders, "I know it's a lot to take in at once. I was in your shoes a few years ago too. I just went with the flow and let it happen. I like it here, you will too."

        It felt too easy to fall into complacency, you didn't have to fight. You almost didn't want to and that scared you. 

        "Did she like it here?" You said meanly.

        Mohawk's grip tightened, then loosened so much his touch was nearly undetectable. "I think so, sometimes."

        Except she betrayed him in the end. Hated what he was doing so much she planned on letting the Coalition get at him. Either imprison him or kill him. Some part of her loved him, smiled with him, but another deeper, truer part of her- of you- hated what the empire, what he, stood for. But not the luxuries it brought or the planets you explored or the stars you saw. He hoped that'd be enough for you. That you and your killer tendencies wouldn't try and get in his way. Maybe, one day, you could really get involved in the politics. Go over reports and battle strategy with him. He wanted it more than you could know.

        While he's in his head, you contemplated using your powers. But there were too many people, too many factors. You didn't even know if Angstrom was awake enough to listen to you. You'd have to come back when the place was nearly empty. Sure, Mohawk was offering a dream but it wasn't what you wanted. You just wanted to be normal and have enough to survive not this crazy space opera bullshit. 

        "Are you that sure I'll like it here?" 

        No, and that scared him but he had something he knew you wanted.

        "I have something else to show you." He took you again by the arm and led you out of the room. 

        He led you down into the bowels of the ship. You passed through door after door, each with a DNA scanner set behind the wall. There was a hard faced guard blocking the last door, the only door in the narrow hallway. Blue-skinned and standing well over seven feet tall. He stepped out of the way as soon as he saw Mohawk.

        Viltrumites weren't a traitor race. Backstabbing was never expected, still, this one single cell was made for the sole purpose of containing a Viltrumite completely. There was another cell block on the other side of the ship, spacious, near identical to the ones on the asteroid, but nothing as secure as this. He needed to be secured, without the chance to ever escape, so together, you could torture him to death without worry.

        The door slid open into a small square room. The walls bare, without vent nor nick. The ceiling gave all the light needed, which was little. Prisoners didn't need to see. You could make out his form well enough. Forced onto his knees, bent forward with his arms trapped in massive cuffs that came up from the floor. His ankles were in the same state. 

        His suit was gone, replaced by an outfit that made your breath catch. The very same Mark, the one who killed himself on your whim, wore. From multiple places blood has seeped through the white fabric. Wounds left to scab over on their own. One of his eyes shone purple in the dim light, swollen as his bottom lip. 

        You hadn't thought about his whereabouts. Hadn't thought about him other than in vague, bitter terms. If you had thought about him, you'd assume he was dead but there he was, alive and looking up at you, horrified. "You're... keeping him alive?"

        Mark's lips and throat worked to find words but nothing came out. Seconds after you passed out, Mohawk ordered Thula onto him, not to kill but to hurt and contain. He didn't stand a chance. Was knocked out when she was done playing with him. Woke up down here. Screamed for help that never came, until now, in the shape of you.

        Mohawk smiled as he leaned into your back. Arms idly coming around your waist. You didn't push them off, too entranced by the sight In front of you to care. "Look babe, I know I can be a real dick. So I thought, whenever you're mad at me, you can come down here and torture him."

        You'd wanted to kill Mark so badly for so long but now that it was in front of you, so plain and easy, it felt different. Wrong? Bad? Good? You didn't know. You'd always assumed you'd never actually get the chance.

        Mohawk assumes your silence is about your human weakness. "Oh, don't worry, just point and I'll punch or stab or break. I didn't just get him for you, ya'know. Thought he could help bring us together." He nuzzled his smooth chin into your neck. Fingers pulse on your sides. "Get the blood flowin', if you know what I mean." His nose pressed to your skin.

        Mark's eyes were set on you, pleading better than you'd ever imagined. He takes it all in, mind reeling. Putting together quickly that you just might be his one and only chance to escape. Mohawk was all over you and you clearly weren't a prisoner. You had sway. 

        "You know this isn't right." Mark finally said, voice scratchy from how hard Thula had punched him in the throat. Mohawk paused sniffing you to look at him. Mark knows it's a fools errand to reason with a bad guy but he had to try. "This isn't us."

        Mohawk's laugh made your ears pop. "Yes, it is asshole. God, this guy really thinks he's a superhero, hm?"

        "He is a superhero." You said blankly. The shock starting to wear. Suppose this was what Mark deserved, you think, he threw you in prison. He abandoned you not once, but twice. Back as teenagers, then again as adults. He left the whole planet to burn for some dumb ginger bitch. He deserved this and worse. 

        "Not here, looks like a Viltrumite prisoner to me!" Mohawk chirped.

        Mark's heart dropped when you smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, he does."

        "He helped destroy the planet." Mark said, "He killed hundreds of thousands of people. He-"

        "And who let that happen?" You replied.

        "He did it!" Mark cried, "He literally killed them!"

        "I asked you for help and you wouldn't even look at me." The memory makes you want to kick him, so you do, in the chin with the inlined steel toe of the suit's boot. It does nothing to him but it made you feel better. "I could've died. I almost did trapped in that fucking desert. You know who helped me stay alive?" You jut your thumb back toward a grinning Mohawk. "He did. I don't give a fuck who he killed. All that matters is I'm alive. Too bad we couldn't grab your bitch girlfriend too, then maybe you'd care about what you've done." If only you knew how much Eve wanted to help. It didn't matter though, she never got the chance. 

        Mark's face twitched between a sneer and open mouthed horror. "What happened to you (Y/n)?" During your relationship, you'd been so normal. In retrospect, there were some things about you that were strange, the fact you lived alone so young, that you were cagey about where you'd come from before middle school. Eve said you probably had a bad life. She thought that's why you ended up working for Machine Head for money, because you didn't know what else to do- so desperate to hang onto the relationship. But he didn't know for sure, you were just another one of Mark's mistakes, coming back to bite him in the ass.

        "You did." It had always been your explanation. He had changed you for the worse. 

        "No." Mark says, "Whatever happened, you did it to yourself."

        You kicked him again because you knew in some ways, he was right. But what else were you supposed to do? You hadn't known he was a superhero, you thought his interest was slipping away, that the dates he missed were because you were lacking. You wanted to go to college together to try and fix it. He'd made you feel the most normal you had in a long, long time. How were you supposed to easily let that go?

        Mohawk's grip on you tightens, pulling you from your thoughts. "Is it bad I wanna fuck the shit outta you right here, right now?" He said it low into the shell of your ear, grinding himself into your ass where you could feel the start of a hard-on. Mark recoiled as much as he could in his bindings. Disgust clearly written across his face. You'd already done the same thing once to spite Phantom, but that was because you'd forgotten he was there with Mohawk inside of you. Phantom loved you, it felt good to hurt him. Mark didn't, he already hated you. That just felt... excessive.

        "It is." You said, trying to ignore the stirrings of arousal in your gut. You were still very much mad at Mohawk for kidnapping you. But taking Mark along with him was a big plus in his favor.

        "Come on, babe." His hands traveled slowly up your sides, sending a jolt down your spine. "Let's show him what he's missing." 

        "Stop it." You slapped at him but his hands still roamed. Moving to the front of your body to your chest where he took you up in his palms, kneading the flesh idly. Even through the suit, he caught your nipples between his knuckles, rolling them sharply and making you gasp. You tried to stop yourself but they both had already heard it. Mohawk delighted in it and you could feel his hum, while Marks dark eyes widened, almost in fear. 

        "Doesn't sound like you want me to." His breath wafted hot over your neck. Hips rolling into your ass, sending heat pooling faster, faster to your gut. 

        "I do." But the more he worked at you, the less you feel that's true. It would be fun to make Mark suffer through the sight. A version of himself that loved you- fucking you in front of him.

        "No, you don't." Mark could only watch as Mohawk's hand lowered to the blue fabric that formed a point between your thighs. Watching as you gasped as Mohawk pressed his fingers in, rubbing you through it. Watched as you melted back into Mohawk.

         You moaned a non-convincing, "Stop."

         Mohawk pulled more sounds out of you, sucking on your neck, rubbing at you. You should stop this for real. Use your powers. But you couldn't. It felt so good rubbing Mark's nose into despair and being played with by Mohawk. You didn't stop him as his finger moved, gripping the fabric to pull away a hole to fuck you through.

        "There's not a zipper there, dumbass." You sounded somewhat composed without fingers rubbing on your clit.

        "Don't worry, I've got a spare in my closet." He said.

        "Stop it." Mark said, it was tinged with hysteria, with disbelief. "Stop!"

         Mohawk went still. Not because he'd listen to Mark but because Kregg was in his earpiece, telling him the preparations were ready and they'd be taking off any minute. "Ah shit, we gotta go." His hot touch was gone from you all at once. You nearly stumbled without the support, legs turned to jelly. He caught your hand and led you out of the room.

        You looked back and caught Mark's slack jaw. Shame floods in, but not as much as the satisfaction of traumatizing him. "See you later."

        ***

         You couldn't believe your eyes. 

        Mohawk had said there was one last surprise. At first, you thought it was seeing the other Marks, even Gray released from the hospital in the time since you'd last seen him. Though Phantom was nowhere to be found, presumably up in his goo tank healing.

        Mohawk had already filled you in, but it was still shocking to see them again. Free of desert dust and hair grease. Changed from their ruined suits to Viltrum style bodysuits comprised of grays and slightly darker grays. All of them with that same skirt Gray wore, except Lenless who either tore it off or picked the one suit where you could see a hardon if he got one- as he so often did. 

        They were gathered in a long, narrow room. Nowhere near big as the galactic announcement room, but big enough for the massive table they were hovering around, talking amongst themselves. Surely enough, there was Markus and Gray by the tables end, lowly talking about the differences from the empires they knew to this one. Lensless and Scars leaned against the thick glass wall that showed off the curve of the Earth. Laughing to each other like they hadn't tried killing each other multiple times. Seb sat at the opposite window, alone, hunched over looking at his gray boots. Wishing for a friend who was normal and not up the empire's ass. You wondered where Maskless was, he hadn't been in the medbay. You couldn't remember seeing him come through the portals with the others, but you had been delirious with bloodloss. 

        At the room's other entrance stood Thula and Lucan. Arms folded behind their backs, waiting for their charges to cause trouble.

        You and Mohawk stood at the room's threshold. His arm again forced through yours. You didn't much care, honestly, because laid out on that table was real fucking food. Some you'd dreamed about for months in the desert, some you hadn't had in years. But mostly there was pizza. All of it fatty and mouth-watering and you wanted it in your mouth- yesterday. 

        You couldn't give two shits about Mohawk's dramatic entrance. You surged forward, trying to drag him behind you, but he pulled you back. Intent only on walking in when everyone turned to look at him. So far, only Markus and Gray had. Markus knew you'd pull through, your injuries had been bad for a human but not fatal, seeing you healthier looking already was a relief. Gray had only seen you less than an hour ago but he flushed and tried to focus on something monotonous so he didn't get a boner at the flash of memories. 

        You scowled at Mohawk, "Come on already." 

        Scars, Lensless, and Seb's heads collectively turning. 

        Mohawk laughed not bitterly, he expected this, and stalled to see what you'd do. "Just had to ruin my entrance, didn't you?"

        "I haven't eaten anything but-" Mark. Mark isn't here. His jerky remains still sit in that dug-out campsite in a sack. That's no burial at all. You should've known things were coming to a head but you hadn't. Now he'd never really be at peace. You swallowed the sorrow you were determined not to show, "That in months. Come on." You tug at him and he relented, walking you toward the table. Closer to Lensless who smiled- his mask finally peeled off his cheeks revealing a harsh tan line. Like everyone else, he'd shaved but his shave job was patchy, leaving little dots of stubble over his jaw.

        "They really do got crazy medicine if you're already walking again." He said.

        Mohawk agreed to keep the fucker alive but man, he really didn't enjoy it. "If you get a boner at my dinner table, I'm kicking you out."

        Lensless saluted, "I promise I won't get a boner, boss." 

        "I totally believe you." Mohawk reached for the chair at the table head. 

        Gray was faster, pulling the chair out. His father always taught him to respect Viltrum's leader, Thragg. While Viltrumites weren't big on little social gestures, humans, like his mother, were. She taught him manners when nobody would. 

        Mohawk eyed him, surprised before sitting in the chair, saying a slightly pleased, "Thanks." Gray moved to push the chair in but Mohawk held up his hand. stopping him, "She hasn't sat yet." He looked up at you, thighs spreading, giving you the choice of left or right. 

        "Uhm." You dry swallow, thinking how mintues ago you were ready or him to fuck you. Your embarrassment is written hot all over your face to his delight. Mohawk stretched his legs a little wider in suggestive invitation. "I can just-" Your leg moved back to pull out the closest chair. Foot gently kicking into Scars' leg, who'd sat himself in the closest chair when you were turned.

        "Go right ahead." He said. 

        You snarled down at him, "I'm not even sure why you're alive right now." 

        "Cuz the Emperor said so." His smile, long toothed with his exposing scar, made you sick. You had to remember he was just a pawn Mohawk plans to kill.

        "I'd rather not be anywhere near the guy who bit a fucking chunk out of me. Thanks for the scar, by the way." You'd looked in the mirror in that closet. The doctors had given you alien steroids that advanced the healing process, nearly grew the piece entirely back. But the flesh remembered, left you marked where his teeth first sunk in. Leaving imprints of his teeth forever in your shoulder. 

        His brows went up and you think his dick. "Scar?" He reached up for you but Mohawk reeled you back, forced you onto his knee.

        "Don't make me kill you at the pizza party." He said, "Also? We talked about this shit, move down." Mohawk pointed like he was a bad dog at the chair furthest from you.

        You watched Scars face twitch through a few different emotions before he stood up abruptly and moved seats. Teeth grinding. Fists twitching. He tells himself he'd make Mohawk pay one day, just keep playing along.

        Mohawk made no acknowledgement, only looking to the others who stood tersely to watch how Scars would react. "The rest of you, sit."

        Chairs smoothly pull out and push in. Asses are in seats all at once. Except Seb who lingered behind the last empty chair, directly across from Scars. He eyed Scars dangerously but Scars only smiled. "You can try me again if you'd like but we both know I'd win. Why don't you listen to our beloved Emperor and sit your pathetic ass down."

        Seb scoffed, not taking the bait, "Yeah, you sure do love listening to him, huh?"

        He sat without looking at Scars who was still bristling from having to follow directions. The table was full but there was nowhere for you to go. 

        "You didn't even get enough chairs, I'm not sitting on your lap to eat," You looked to Seb, "and where's Maskless? Why isn't he here?"

        Scars laughed, hard and harsh, "Yeah, where is he?" Before you could say anything, Seb flew across the table for him. Only to be grabbed by both ankles, one by Markus, the other by Gray.

        "Sit." Gray said.

        While Markus said, "Don't be a fool."

        "He killed him." Seb pulled against their hold to no avail. Scars watched, unbothered. You felt your stomach drop out your ass, he really hadn't made it through the portal. "He fucking killed him for no reason and you guys are cool with that?" 

        "He was trying to kill me." Scars said evenly. "You all were, but I won't hold a grudge." It was a lie, an obvious one that made Seb stretch out his arms to try and grab the man. He couldn't.

        Thula looked to Mohawk if she should intervene. He shook his head.

        "Yeah, and that's why we're alive and you shouldn't be!" Seb tried pulling his feet up, kicking back at his captors but they were too strong. He turned to Mohawk, trying to appeal to politics, "You can't trust this fucker with your empire, dude!"

        "I don't trust any of you," Mohawk said, though he was starting to warm to the idea of Gray in a higher position. "Sit your ass down."

        Seb, in fact, did not sit his ass down. He kept reaching, stretching his body against the others to try and get to Scars who just said, "You heard the Emperor." Seb saw red. Seb wanted to kill him so bad but he was too weak to break free. Too slow to surprise. Scars had been right about him. And if Maskless hadn't swooped in, he'd be the dead one.

        He looked at your face, startled by the revelation, hand pressed to your chest watching him, and he knew he needed to sit down. He wasn't the only one hurt by his death. Seb stopped pulling but the grips on his ankles didn't fall for some seconds. When they did, he sat back in his seat. Sour faced, though his stomach was roaring at the idea of a meat-lovers pizza pie. 

        "You done?" Mohawk asked. Seb stiffly nodded. "Good. Cool. Well, fellas, consider this and me not killing you my token of thanks for everything you did for me in the desert. I know we didn't always get along and honestly-" In lieu of something wedding reception sweet, he said, "I still think most of you are bitches, but alive bitches." He reached out and grabbed a crystal flute filled nearly to the rim with sizzling champagne. "To fixing the empire my general fucked up in my absence." He lifted the glass and waited. 

        Gray would've done it first but he was unfamiliar with this beverage lifting practice. Markus was first, then Lensless so fast most of his drink sloshed down and landed on his lap, then Scars, you, Gray copied everyone else, last was Seb, weakly holding the glass up halfway. He fucking hated champagne.

       "To the empire." Markus echoed before kissing his glass to Mohawk's then yours. 

        "To the empire." Everyone but you, Seb, and the guards followed. Glasses tinked. You brought the flute down to your lips, fizz bit at your skin as you tilted your head back. You'd never had the chance to have nice champagne. When you got drunk it was on a tight budget. You expect it to taste like cardboard and Wall Street. It does, at first, but there's a sweetness when it hits the back of your throat. The headiness of the alcohol going straight to your dome. You couldn't remember the last time you got drunk. 

        The first flute was emptied. You set it down, gasping in air. Mohawk set his own down, a third gone. "It used to be her favorite too." 

        "I don't like it." You lied, "I just like being drunk." 

        He smiled knowingly and pushed the rest of his flute toward you. So many eyes were on you, sat on the Emperor's lap, one of his hands snaked around your waist, gripping your hip not unpleasantly. You couldn't deal with the shame and arousal. You took the flute and downed it. Soon as you set it down, Mohawk made you regret it by announcing with a grin, "Good girl."

        Drink already swirled in your head, you knew in five minutes you'll be content and dozy. You bit while you still had teeth, "Can we eat or what?"

        "Ah halheady ham." Lensless said through a mouthful of pineapple dotted pizza. Orange grease dribbled down his chin. Gray looked horrified. 

        Mohawk snickered, "Wouldn't recommend that. Hold onto your glasses everybody." 

        Before anyone could ask why, the ship shuddered. Something deep in its bowels groaned then the whole room lurched. Everything stayed in place but you felt the air push down on your shoulders as the view outside the windows morphed. Earth and its simple night sky was gone. Replaced by blackness streaked through by flashing stripes. 

        Lensless choked on a piece of pineapple. Your head stirred, mind playing to catch up. 

        "Turbulence should be stopping right... about..." The weight lifted, the ship stopped twitching, the stripes flashed with less intensity, "Now." 

        Everyone but Mohawk, Gray, and the guards looked a little rattled. Unused to the feel of a spaceship going warp speed.

        "What the fuck, man?" Seb gripped the table's edge. 

        "I told you, we've gotta fix things up in the western edge of the galaxy. We're almost east as it gets. Even at this speed, it's gonna be a few days before we're at the closest rebel planet." Mohawk picked up a slice, "I should've warned you guys but..." Lensless coughed out the slimy chunk of pineapple onto his plate. "This is way funnier. Dig in, I promise there's no more surprises."

        With mild hesitation, hands and forks reached out to fill their own plates. Alien servants came and went, pouring more pale champagne into glasses and taking empty plates. The first few minutes were filled with the sounds of desperate eating. All of you viciously shoving food into your mouths like you'd never get another chance. Markus and Gray were a little more put together. Gray stuck to the least greasy food he could. Nothing at the table seemed appetizing to him in the slightest. It was all so... shiny.

        He made no complaints but avoided the pizza. Instead watching you eat it looking like you were about to sob. He broke the silence with a, "Is that... a delicacy on your planet?"

        You looked at him, cheeks puffed-out full. Mohawk answered for you, "No, but it's good dude, try some." He pushed a silver tray toward Gray. Some yellow disc poxxed with red meat dots. He hid his cringe well but not enough, Mohawk knew his own micro expressions. "This one's like, my favorite dude, you're gonna cum in your pants when you try it." 

        "I don't think I should eat it then." He said dryly.

        Mohawk rolled his eyes, "Not literally, dipshit." He pushed the tray until it bumped against Gray's scarce plate. "Eat it, that's an order."

        Gray couldn't tell if he was joking so he carefully, as not to drip grease on his pristine clothes, picked up a slice. You watched with attention wrapt as he brought it to his open mouth and bit down. Chewed once, twice, and paused, eyes going wide. 

        Viltrum was a Utopia, yes, but a utilitarian one where creature comforts didn't matter, only the survival of the whole. Food had never been about taste to him, only fuel. He'd had some things that tasted okay, many things that tasted like rubber, but nothing like this. So sinfully salty and oozing with grease it took him a moment to process. 

        He ate it fast as he would let himself without making a mess. He had another slice in his hands before he'd swallowed the last bite of the first.

        "Told ya." Mohawk said with a chuckle, and you couldn't keep the smile off your face. 

        The meal went on. Slowly, slowly, the mood shifted with your increasing un-sobriety. Plus all of you had finally eaten a good meal. You laughed openly without malice for the first time in a long time when Mohawk called out Gray for eating an entire pie by himself. Despite his carefulness, specs of crumbs sat on the corners of his lips. Grease shiny on his cheeks.

        "Excuse me." He said politely when you pointed it out. Somehow more embarrassed about being messy than fucking the Emperor's mate. 

        You got a particularly good laugh at Scars when he openly cringed at the offering of garlic bread from Lensless. Who just asked, "You don't like garlic? What are you, five?"

        Scars kicked him harshly under the table. "I'd rather be eating meat is all."

        He rolled his good eye, "Look bro, I liked cannibalism just as much as you did but I think this tastes better."

        "No, it doesn't."

        Lensless huffed, "I know we're both like, a lil out there, but come on, you don't have to be a tough guy all the time." He made the bread sway back and forth, saying, "Here comes the airplane!” 

        "If you put that nasty shit even an inch closer to me, I will eat you."

        You pointed at him, deeply drunk, talking to him for the first time tonight. "He's serious, stupid bastard tried to eat me."

        Seb rolled his eyes, "We get it, he's all over you."

        "No like actually eat me, he bit a chunk out of me, dude." You zipped down the front of the suit, exposing the valley of your chest. Eyes glue to the skin but you paid no mind, all warm and fuzzy. You pulled the fabric to the side, exposing the scar. "Look!"

        They did.

        Markus was enjoying himself watching you wine-drunk like his wife so often used to get. You were the same, silly and light. He hoped soon you'd be this way with him sober, with all of them sober. The reminder of what that freak had done to you harshed his mood, you were being light hearted about it, a smile on your face as you rubbed the scar in Seb's face. But he still asked softly, "Does it hurt?"

        "Hurt? Pssh. It's fine, good, really. Not when he bit the shit outta me though. I was screaming and I thought this guy was dead," you jutted a thumb towards Mohawk, "and that guy was fucked up," to Gray, "I thought I was gonna die. He was going to kill me and he won't even eat garlic bread." You can't stop laughing because it's so stupid in retrospect. You almost got eaten alive by a guy who had the taste buds of a toddler. 

        Your smile infects Lensless, "I thought he was gonna kill you too!"

        There's quiet a moment, then you're both laughing. "I wanted to kill you!" You echoed. 

        "I know! You always say that." He grinned before he exclaimed, "Oh, oh, remember when you shot my eye out!?" He poked at the healed flap of skin, surrounded by slightly discolored flesh. 

        "Remember when I tried to drown you?" 

        "Oh my God, I think about that all the time." He fanned himself and you couldn't help a giggle. 

        Gray looked between you both, confused. "What's so funny about that?"

        "Because it's over." Seb said, shockingly restrained from his usual eating habits tonight, "Because they didn't actually die."

        "Dude, come on, we all survived! Can’t we relax for two fucking seconds?" You said as an alien servant drops off another flute. Maybe your sixth glass, you couldn't remember. You'd regret it bent over a toilet later, but not now. 

        Seb sneered at you. "We all survived, yeah that’s awesome coming from you. You just found out he fuckin' died, an' that's what you have to say? Relax? Are you fuckin' serious? Fuck you."

        "What?" You were so drunk and swept up in everything else you didn't have a response.

        "Hey." Mohawk gave him a warning look. Seb held his tongue.

        "Oliver." 

        "What?" You repeated because you had no idea what he was talking about. 

        "He went by Oliver. Cuz it's- was his middle name." Seb said. He remembered the conversation so clearly. The mild shock that a version of him had a slightly different name. He remembered joking it wouldn't be awkward when they were both called by their middle names.

        "Oh, mine too!" Lensless said. 

        Seb ignored him. "You just called him Maskless because you never bothered to ask." He shouldn't be lashing out, you were friends. You were only smiling because you were drunk and he was only mad because he couldn't be. Mohawk was serving regular champagne that couldn't possibly get them anywhere near tipsy. He missed being a teenager, before his powers kicked in and any substance he tried worked so easily. Now it was a struggle to get drunk or high. He doubted Mohawk kept any of the good shit on this tipped porta-potty of a ship. "But I did because we were actually friends and you could've stopped that dickhead from killing him with your freaky ass mind powers but you didn't!"

        Markus felt bad for the man, really he did, but he had only known Oliver two months. It wasn't that big a deal he thought, certainly not big enough to act so nasty. "Don't speak to my wife like that."

        Seb's cheeks went red. "I-"

        "It's okay, Markus." You said gently. He softened, Seb not so much. "I'm sorry, I couldn't tell what was happening in the storm. I thought if I interrupted I'd fuck things up. I-" Your head pulsed, tongue feeling thick in your mouth. "I didn't mean for that to-"

        Scars spoke for you, "What she's trying to say is good riddance to that weak loser who couldn't possibly serve our Emperor." Everytime he said ‘Emperor’ there was so much fake, sugary reverence you felt cavities form on the back of your teeth. 

        You rear on him, "Oh, fuck you dude. He was cool and actually could'a done something for this-" You threw your arms out to the windows, "Space-empire thing," God you were too drunk to be aruging, "instead of being a stupid, edgy bitch." Scars took the insult on the chin, smiling into his champagne flute as he drank.

        Gray again didn't understand, he wasn't glad a version of him was dead, but the two of you had fought nonstop. "He despised you."        

        You laughed, "I would too! He was just trying to survive and I'm a bitch!”

        "Yeah, you are." Mohawk said with an entirely different energy. Shifting his hips under you. 

       You ignored the feeling, food feeling sour in your stomach as you went in on Scars, "You're a bitch too. Worse than me. If you weren't so fucking crazy and scary Mark would've never taken me to that cave and gone batshit on me. Literally everything is your fault."

        Lensless nodded to himself, elbowing Scars, "She's kinnnndaaa right, buddy."

        "You too, you were part of it! You're just as bad as him!" You yelled at him.

        "Yeah, I totally was, dude." He said with a nod.

       "Stop agreeing with me!"

        "Okay." He still had that shit eating grin on his face.

        You wanted to rip your skin off talking to them, how was this going to work? Why had Mohawk even invited them? Letting them live was one thing, but having them at dinner with you, taunting you and the others was another. 

        "Tch, it's no use arguing with them anyway, Emperor's just gonna give 'em a free pass." Seb said.

        The proclamation quieted the room, because Mohawk had done that. He was going to let those two run around the ship, scott free. Let terror hang over your head. Let Oliver's death go unpunished. He had said he’d keep them far away from you, then let them sit at your dinner table. Not on your watch. 

        You leaned forward, fiddling with the champagne flute's neck, "Hey, Scars?"

        He grinned at the nickname. "Yes, honey?" 

        "Dislocate your jaw." Power slipped on like a glove.

        As soon as the command hit his ears, he opened his mouth, grabbed his chin and yanked it down hard with a sick pop. He came back to himself in a rush of pain, scrambling to set it back in place.

        You weren't done with him, "Hit yourself in the balls."

        It happened faster than the light could hit your retinas. He doubled over the dinner table, looking like he'd sucked a bowling ball. A sound came from the back of his throat, you think it was, "Cunt."

        He floated up to get payback, mouth still opened unnaturally wide. Tongue flopping. You grinned, head spinning, room spinning. You pressed your hand to the shell of your ear. "What was that, honey? I couldn't understand you."

        Scars moved forward to grab you by the neck. Thula shifted forward to stop him but Lensless beat her to it, grabbing Scars by the waist. "I think we should go. It's been fun guys. Oh, and if you could use your powers on me next time (Y/n) that'd be cool." Scars thrashed violently, he wouldn't be contained long. "Okay, gotta go bye!" He shot them both out of the room, Thula and Lucan after them. Assumedly taking Scars to his quarters to calm down. If you were lucky, they'd fight for real and kill each other.

        The room was quiet a moment before Mohawk said, "God, you're so fucking hot." You noticed the two empty seats, yours for the taking. You tried to stand to get away. Mohawk held on, speaking softer, "There's no way you can walk."

        "I used to drink codeine on the regular, I'm good. Let go of me." 

        He gave you a look of 'if you say so' as his balancing hands fell away. You wobbled at first but managed to walk, deciding the window ledge was far enough away from everything, so you sat heavily. Dizzily watching space pass by with a full belly. Thousands of miles came and went until you saw a shape coming closer, reflected in the window. 

        "Hey." Seb sat beside you, back to window. 

        "Hey." 

        "Sorry I was a dick." He said quietly so the others didn't hear but they did.

        You wish you were sober enough not to slur but you're not, "Sorry, I didn't help."

        "Me too, but it's not your fault." His fists clenched and unclenched. "It's theirs and his."

        You knew he meant Mark, the Mark you hated as well, sitting in the bowels of the ship in dim light. 

        "Mohawk's got a like..." You spaced out, starting to feel a little nauseous looking at the stars. "Like a prison where he's keeping that douchebag. We should go beat him up sometime."

        Seb cracked half a smile, "Sounds good to me. I’m just glad he’s not up here with the rest of us."

        "Just don't get overzealous and kill him." Markus said, standing in front of you both now. He left Gray and Mohawk at the table, both watching your back as they finished eating. Gray was on his second full pie. Mohawk sipped champagne and remembered the old taste of you.

        "Death's not good enough for that asshole, don't worry." Seb said.

        You thought of ways to torment him, none of them seemed viable because of the way he was contained. You wouldn’t be able to do anything to him. "Ah shit, I'm sorry."

        "'Bout what?"

        "I can't make him do that much if he's restrained." You said.

        "Damn."

        Markus thought a moment, "You could make him bite his restraints until he breaks all his teeth."

        You blinked, slow and confused. "You been down to see him?"

        "Of course. I had to make sure he was suffering."

        "Whoa, okay Romeo." Seb said with a chuckle. 

        You nodded at his idea, "But if he has no teeth, he can't beg and cry as good."

        "Viltrumites can regrow teeth." Markus said.

        That made your head shoot up- fast- too fast, your head was spinning like a top. "Bullshit!"

        "It's true. In my years training, I've had them knocked out-" Markus held up three fingers, “-times.” 

        You tried to imagine Markus without teeth just a gummy smile on that handsome face and you start to laugh. It infected Seb as you poorly tried to explain the thought to him. Soon enough, Markus was smiling too.