#i also did not have time to adjust the pose so that elbow had to be cropped off

[syrcus]

lazy arcadion glam gpose 👍

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Headcanons: Jordan Li with Streamer!fem reader

A/N: This character has a chokehold on me just like they do everyone else. Also, I don't claim to own this character nor the gifs, I just had this idea for a scenario.

Notes: 1116 word count and some swearing.

You never thought that your stream you started out of boredom during high school would take off but by the time you got to GOD U, you were always on the Top Ten Streamer list on V-TV.

 Your content ranged from wholesome gaming, collabs with other creators, and commentary on popular videos or media. Emma, Marie, Luke, Cate, and Andre had all been featured at least once but your oldest friend, Jordan, was hesitant.

“I don’t want a bunch of weird strangers knowing who I am,” they muttered when you tried to convince them to join for the millionth time.

You pouted, “Jordan, that’s what the mods are for. Anyway, it’s a risk you’re going to have to take as a supe anyway, right?” They were reluctant to admit you were right and after bribing them with Olive Garden, grumpily sat next to you as you set up your stream the following night.

“Try to look a little more enthusiastic,” you teased as you adjusted your cameras to frame you and Jordan well.

“It’s hard when I’m still hungover,” they griped. Despite their mood, you couldn’t help but feel giddy as you clicked on the big green “start” button and sat down in your custom gaming chair.

“Hi everyone, welcome back! Today, I have a very special guest who taught me almost everything I know about gaming,” you chirped, pulling Jordan’s chair closer to your side. “This is Jordan.”

Almost immediately, your chat started going crazy. “Who’s the hot guy?” “That’s your friend???!!!” “I knew I should’ve tried harder to get into GOD U.”

Jordan’s eyes widened at the response, and they sat up a little straighter and waved. “Hi everyone and yes, I am Y/N’s friend, and I did teach her everything she knows about gaming.” You elbowed them in the side playfully. “Not true!” “Before me, she didn’t even know what T-posing was.”

You playfully smacked their arm and shook your head. “Shut up. Anyway, tonight I am wearing my cozy sweatshirt because it is spooky season and to celebrate, we will be playing Outlast and Jordan is here in case I faint from fear and emotional support.” Jordan snorted, “You’re playing Outlast when you couldn’t finish FNAF?”

The night was filled with screaming and panic from you while Jordan mostly laughed at your pain and tried to give directions.

“Go left! No, the other left!” They shouted. “I panicked!”

Throughout the gameplay, the chat was bombarding you both with comments and donations. “Cherrypickednightmare gifted 50 subs and said, ‘Please give Jordan their cut’,” Jordan read. “Thank you for the subs! What cut? This is my channel, Jordan is a guest. They are here as a friend,” you said without taking your eyes off the screen.

“I don’t think you did this well with anyone else on the channel, I think I should be compensated,” Jordan teased. “Your pay is my friendship and potentially more Olive Garden.”

With that statement, your subscribers sent more “gifts” and subs as you continued playing. “Mikeysleftfoot said, ‘For the Olive Garden fund,” Jordan chuckled. “Yes, chat, for only 9.99 a day, you can provide Jordan with a week’s worth of Olive Garden even though they only eat the breadsticks, but someone needs to order something so no one gets kicked out,” you teased in a fake serious voice.

Jordan seemed to have too much fun interacting with chat while you were avoiding being attacked by zombified asylum patients. “WHY DID I COME INTO THIS HOSPITAL ALONE WITHOUT A WEAPON? I’M A JOURNALIST AND NO ONE KNOWS I’M HERE!” you screamed while frantically trying to get your character to run away from the giant patient. “Y/N, Viledeeds87 wants to know how we met.”

“NOT NOW!” But you died in-game seconds later and huffed. “We met in kindergarten,” you stated. “No, preschool.” You burst out laughing, “My bad, I lumped the years together. We were on the playground, I got a splinter from the swing set, and Jordan walked me to the nurse’s office.” “I’ve been looking out for her clumsy ass since.”

After that night, your friendship with Jordan and Jordan themselves became a hot topic on your channel. “Someone said, ‘Why is Jordan so daddy?’ Relax, chat, or else I will not bring them back on the channel. Their head’s gonna get too big from your thirst,” you joked.  

Surprisingly, Jordan loved the attention, especially the reactions they could get out of you because of the attention.

“I should write up a contract to make sure I’m getting my proper royalties,” Jordan suggested mindlessly during a study session.  “You know I have a team of lawyers, right?” “Scared they’ll agree with me?”

But when your merch collection came out, Jordan was the first to model and post about it on social media. Their appearances on the channel were regular and fueled more engagement on your streams, which your management loved.

Your other friends offline couldn’t help but comment on it either, with Andre only being a little jealous of the attention Jordan got while Luke and Cate couldn’t be more supportive.

Emma and Marie proudly shipped you and Jordan. “You’re so cute together, I mean, it’s giving frenemies and will-they-won’t-they at the same time!” Emma insisted. “No way, there’s nothing there. Jordan’s my best friend and it makes sense that we would have decent chemistry.” “I may not be super experienced in this area but, they do not look at you like a friend, on stream and off,” Marie commented.

You thought your younger friends were nuts. If there was anything between you and Jordan, you would be the first to know. Sure, you occasionally got butterflies around them when they smiled in either form and you regularly bought things or sent them pictures of something that reminded you of them. But all best friends do that, right?

Then one night, when you should’ve been studying, you were scrolling on social media when you stumbled across fan compilation videos of you and Jordan. While a lot of them were funny, a few of them were on the shipping side.

For the first time, you saw how Jordan’s big brown eyes softened when you weren’t looking at them and how they were so quick to pull you in their lap when you tried to storm off in a rage-quit. Was this how they always acted around you?

As you raked your brain, you began to remember several moments where Jordan acted a little more than a friend to you but at the time, you brushed it off. Did this mean they liked you? Did this mean it was finally okay for you to admit how you feel?

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Fairest Midnight - 2. Getting Late

Summary: Halloween was always special, because you could spend time with Vil without worrying about anyone asking questions about his cape or fangs, should they glint in the moonlight and give away his undead nature. But nights wear unsympathetically on, and for better or worse you were a person who lived their life in the light of day. 

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Fluff / Vampire AU/ romantic/ sfw

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1082

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

Vil was far too smug for my liking as I gradually got more tired while the night wore unsympathetically on, “All that chatter about us going out and you’re already tired.”

Despite his tone, there was a distinctly affectionate gleam in his eyes as I shot him a look, “Hey, you were sleeping all day. I was busy doing other stuff.”

His eyebrows arched in a still more amused fashion, “Such as?”

I straightened, rolling my shoulders as I glanced up at him, “Helping out Epel with moving some of the apple crates.”

Vil nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, “Epel… He’s that boy that lives close to your apartment, right? Works at the Felmier Apple Store? Short, purple-haired, delicate face….”

I nodded, smiling slightly to myself at the description Vil gave of the young man. It wasn’t inaccurate, but… Well, Epel wouldn’t like it, to say the least. After all, he was determined to become manly as soon as possible.

I shivered, despite myself, as the wind kicked some of the fallen leaves into the air. It was Halloween though; it ought to be chilly…..

I barely got to complete a single shiver before a perfectly familiar cape fell over my shoulders, causing me to look up at the man next to me, who was frowning slightly as he adjusted the heavy fabric around my shoulders, “You should’ve worn a heavier coat.”

I grinned up at him as I grasped the edges of the cape and pulled it slightly tighter around my person, “And miss the chance to wear your fancy cape? You can’t expect me to deny myself such a pleasure, Vil.”

He snorted in response to my teasing, his eyes flicking up from his busied hands that were fastening the clasp to where my eyes were, “Perhaps not… But I can expect you to dress yourself properly.”

I rolled my eyes as he stepped back, at last finished with his work. I shifted slightly, striking a pose with my hands on my hips, “Well, how do I look?”

Vil tilted his head and crossed his arms as he scanned me, “Like someone wearing a cape that’s too big for them.”

Despite his harsh words, there was a smile on his face, half-amused and half-pleased looking as he gazed at me under the streetlights. But after a brief moment, he glanced away, looking over towards where a clock hung with a slight frown on his face, “It’s late, you should be getting home. I’m sure you have plans for tomorrow, after all.”

I nodded, sighing slightly with the motion, but agreeing with his unfortunately accurate assessment, “True that….”

I couldn’t deny that I didn’t want the evening to be over yet, but I also didn’t complain as Vil linked his arm with mine and began to walk me back down the street that would bring us back to my apartment.

“You don’t have to walk me back…..” My words were silenced by a glance from him.

“Didn't you promise me that you’d be more careful?” I shifted, letting my hand slip comfortably against his elbow, so it looked like I was being escorted back home by some poshly dressed male model.

“I did, but you’ll also need to get back before the sun comes out.” My eyes met his as I tilted my head, “You need to be careful too, you know.”

He looked away before I could see if he’d rolled his eyes and nodded, his tone one of grudging agreement, “Very well, I’ll walk you to the street your building is on, and then I’ll be on my way.”

On his way to wherever it was he called home and spent his daytime hours asleep. I had pictured him sleeping in a coffin like in those cheesy horror movies in the past, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe that was the case.

I also couldn’t deny I was curious, though, since Vil was ever secretive about anything to do with the vampire side of his life. 

All I knew was that the other vampires in the area either feared or respected him enough to respect his declaration that my apartment complex was officially on his turf.

Though that made it sound like vampires were gang….. But I supposed that could be true. I didn’t know much about them after all. Only that they really liked bothering me for some unknown reason that I really preferred not to ponder.

Vil’s steps slowed as we reached the street I lived on, and he turned to look at me, “I suppose this is farewell, Tater tot.” 

I glanced towards the building I would soon be entering, relieved to see it since I really was tired while also feeling a little sad. I’d enjoyed my evening out with Vil, and these little outings didn’t occur very often.

I started to tug the cape off, only for him to stop me with a gentle hand, “It’s fine, I can just get it tomorrow evening.”

His words, assuring me that he would visit tomorrow evening, brought a smile to my face, and I bobbed my head in a quick nod, “See you tomorrow then. Don’t let the bed-bugs, or coffin-bugs, bite.”

Vil snorted in amusement but stepped away. Raising his hand in farewell before turning to go. He strode down the street as if he were a famous model rather than an undead creature of the night. But that was just the way Vil was. Ever destroying others' expectations. Including mine.

I turned, toying with the edges of his cape as I took off to head back towards my own abode, only to bump into someone almost immediately.

I stumbled backwards, going wide-eyed as I looked at the other person who carefully caught me by the harm to keep me from falling, “I'm so sorry! Are you-” I trailed off as I looked at the young man, because nothing could have prepared me for what greeted me.

An incredibly handsome young man with pale purpley-blue eyes and hair that was almost pure white. He met my gaze with a stoic expression as he let go of my arm, “It’s alright; I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

With only those words, he gave me a polite head nod and continued on his way, leaving me standing there gaping like a fish on land. And here I thought I’d grown used to attractive men from spending time with Vil and Epel.

If you would like to read more:

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[randomwriteronline]

Do you think love can bloom even despite Greg Farshtey if we don't have mouths between two sets 15 years apart?

so a friend got me a g2 Kopaka--

Mata Pohatu was a gift from my beloved beautiful chum @cantankerouscanuck and when i went to pick up my other boy my friend n i ended up doin a lil photoshoot at their house bc i couldnt resist trying to make them kiss, which was Fucking Hard due to the mata build's terrible posability but thank god Pohatu's got at least one loose leg and Kopaka has many more joints and is so stable. homeboy was holding this whole thing together all by himself like the gallant gentleman he is

my only regret is not having a proper camera with cool lenses and all to properly devote an insane amount of effort to this stupid thing... have a documentation of our tribulations under the cut instead XD

first problem we incurred in (aside from my shaky ass hands making some pictures blurry) was the height difference.

it doesnt look terrible bc kopakas got his knees bent in the photo but effectively the only way pohatu got to his face was by standing on his tippy toes, and while his steel toed boots did give him the added cms necessary they did NOT let him stand on his own, so either we held him up or he fell over even when propped against a wall. we tried pinning him to the wall with kopaka but he still slipped so both cute ideas had to go down the drain

(we also tried a classic kabedon pose but kopakas fucking pauldrons SUCK for arm mobility so tragically, that was also scrapped)

the good news was however that they COULD hold hands! sorta. kinda. im still counting it. the mata hands have axels for fingers, so they fit snugly in the handpieces the 2015 gang has :)

only problem with it is that

straight in the tits.

(me trying to browse a tag in peace but overly horny fanart pops up)

BUT ANYWAYS. the hand holding did provide some stability and so we started trying out poses by seeing how far we could tilt pohatu while keeping him standing - this because he has another problem, that being that his head bobs up and down with no way to keep it up or down on its own, so we had to work with gravity

came out a lil foreboding, like kopaka is threatening him. but we're getting closer!

thankfully me being a big ol sap helped in figuring out how to make the whole thing more tender bc i love that shit. so we decided to push pohatu's loose leg out to balance him and one of his arms up, like he was reaching for kopaka's mask, which was also very good bc kopaka's hand lodged itself right between pohatu's tiny elbow and hip so he looked like he was wrapping it around his waist. then we adjusted them a lil bit, teaked them here n there, and

OH YEAH.

OH YEAH BABY WERE GETTING SOMEWHERE NOW

we had to uh. briefly stop. and laugh really hard for a second bc pohatus entire head fell off. i dont have photos for that but it was so sudden and unexpected that we had a fit of hysteric giggles

as you can see however, their faces are Not touching. this is due to the aforementioned problem with the Mata neck, plus the fact that kopaka couldn't bend further down to close the gap on his own, though tbf cut him some slack hes already holding the both of them up as best as he can

so we meddled a lil bit to pull pohatu more upright and strengthen kopakas pose so they wouldnt topple over, considered a maskless version, scrapped it bc they looked VERY silly, and THEN. AT LAST

THE ELUSIVE BONKLE KISS..........

from as many angles n lightings as possible bc im Unwell

AND a cool version from the hand-holding side bc the transpieces look great and i find it very sweet :)

but yeah that was a fun time :D it was great and the lads have been untangled and retired on a shelf where theyll stay nice and tight hehe

hope yall enjoyed these, they were great fun to make and i think they came out really well despite my shitty hands and cameras. maybe ill do more or not, who knows ahah wait what was that.

that sound... its like. plastic smacking plastic... to mimic kissing...

you dont think... the bionicles... they couldnt... no...

oh... oh good heavens. oh theyre canoodling in there

[storiesabouthumanandthings]

The Punk and The Suit 3

Kristoph is sitting in his normal shady spot when he notices Kieran skating by and waves him over.

Kieran pops up the board and carries it over, “Man, it’s a Saturday, do you wear anything besides a suit?”

Kristoph looks at Kieran’s clothes. Feels like pointing out the irony that he is pretty sure Kieran is still wearing the same clothes from last night, “I do but I am working overtime so same boring stuffy suit it is. So where do we go for lunch?”

Kieran shrugs, “What do you usually get?”

“I usually bring my lunch.”

Kieran cocks an eyebrow “Have you at least tried the burger truck around the corner for dinner?”

Kristoph looks past Kieran, “There’s a burger truck?”

“Oh I gotta take you to it now.”

As they walked to the mysterious burger truck, Kristoph turned to Kieran, “Not sure if I said this properly last night, but thank you for last night and-”

Kieran waves him off, “Don’t mention it, you are still paying me and getting me lunch. So how pissed were they? Were they calling you all night?”

Kristoph adjusted his glasses and suddenly is hit with the memory of how Kieran kissed him in front of everyone, “I don’t know honestly. It either went great or horrible. No one is talking to me. Which is nothing new. Now if they continue to not talk to me, then it went horrible. But if they never talk to me again, it went great.”

Kieran was confused, “That sounds like the same thing?”

“Yes but they often talk AT me.”

“Ah, got it”

“And I was also going to say sorry for making you late for your other thing.”

Kieran again waved him off, “You didn’t really make me late. I was there early when we bumped in the elevator.”

Kristoph was curious, “And if you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing there?”

Kieran put on a fake tough act, “What, you don’t think I can be in a place like that? I don’t deserve to be in such a nice place? I am just some gutter punk?”

Kristoph began to put up his hands defensively.

“I am just missing with you Kris, is it cool if I call you Kris?”

Kris thought about it and shrugged, “Sure, you will be the only person that does.”

“Sweet. Anyways, I have an art installation there. I was there early to steal some food. I heard the place had sweet eats so I thought I would stuff my gob and then get to work. Then some stuffy suit changed my plans,” he elbows Kristoph playfully, “but I still needed to go up and ensure all the works arrived safe and then plan placements.” Kieran then shouted, “This is St Paddy’s Patties, best burgers in town. I don’t care what high hoity-toity burgers you might have had, this will beat it hands down!”

“I don’t think there is a such thing as a high class burger but I’ll take your word for it.”

They had to wait for a few minutes to get to the front, giving Kristoph time to look over the menu.

When they got to the front, Kieran shouted into the truck, “Ay yo Patrick, get me my usual and make sure you charge extra as this guy is paying,” he grabbed some napkins and headed to on open park table, leaving Kristoph to place his order.

Patrick came to the window, “A suit? You’re not his lawyer or something? He didn’t do it!”

Kristoph was confused, “Uh no, I just owe him one and we agreed to meet for lunch. Does he normally cause a lot of trouble that needs a lawyer?”

It was Patrick’s turn to be confused, ignoring Kristoph’s question, “You? Owe him one? Ok, now I have to know, how did that happen?”

Kristoph knew it was better not to argue with the person handling your food, “Well he was my date last night.”

Patrick’s eyes seemed to bulge, “A Date?! uh, Can I get your picture? And lunch will be free?”

“Uh I guess a picture is okay, I’ll still pay.”

“Cool, Win-Win for me. I’ll get your food out in a moment.” Kristoph posed with an awkward smile, gave his order and paid for their lunch.

Patrick immediately turned to one of the others in the truck, “Hey, take over for a moment, I need to call a few people!”

As Kristoph gets to the table, Kieran’s phone dings. Kieran ignores it and turns to Kristoph, “So I’ll be honest, one thing you said has been bugging me since last night about your family.”

Kristoph chuckles to himself, “Only one thing? What was that?”

“Well you said you love skateboarding but they never let you. And again, I know where you work and you know where I play. I could teach you to board. We can get lunch at your choice of restaurant next time or something. It could be after work instead of lunch if that’s better for you.”

Kristoph is shocked, “Oh, I didn’t think you were serious. You might have your work cut for you. Not sure how good my balance is even.”

Kieran waves him off, “You can practice that easy. Shit, get a Wii Fit, that teaches balance. Or just get a balance board.”

“Also not sure about restaurants. Like I said I usually make my own meals.”

Kieran sits back and leans away from Kristoph to get a better look at him, “So you never eat out, except for like last night?”

Kristoph pauses for a moment and then shakes his head, “Not really.”

“And what about the meals for yourself? What’s your favorite thing to cook?”

Kristoph thinks, “Well, for the most part, I make like pasta, rice, salad, things that last for a few days for leftovers. If I am feeling fancy, I’ll cook myself a steak and baked potato or something like that.”

Kieran just looks at Kristoph horrified, “Man you are making me sad. If we do do this, I am making a list of restaurants you need to eat at.”

Behind them Patrick yelled “Lawyer”

Kristoph stares at Kieran, “Are you asking me on a date now? And why does he think I am lawyer?”

Kieran pushes Kristoph towards the truck, “Just hurry up and get the food and I mean just look at yourself. You look like a lawyer.”

Kieran’s phone is buzzing like crazy as he is writing restaurants down on a napkin and eating.

Kristoph covers his mouth even though there is no food in his mouth, paranoid he has a piece of food stuck in his teeth, “Do you need to get that?”

Kieran with responds with his mouth full, “No, it’s just my social media, probably from the pictures I took last night.”

Kristoph continues, trying to ignore the noises from the phone, “Oh, are you big online? Should I know you?”

Kieran shakes his head, taking a big swallow, “Not really in your circle of suits, numbers, and pencil pushers but in certain circles, some say I am a huge deal.”

“Well maybe I should look you up. I mean, I know where to find you for lunch but in case I need to piss off my family again or want to watch you do more skate tricks.”

“Going full stalker now? Sure, pass me your phone and I’ll give you my number and socials. That way we can meet up for skating practice and meals. Skating is hard work, makes you hungry.”

Kristoph chuckles, “Why do I get the feeling you are trying to eat me out of house and home.”

“Oh I can eat you out,” Kieran says with a wink as he takes a big bite of his burger.

Kieran’s phone is still dinging to the point that even Kieran can’t ignore it any longer. He looks at his phone and mumbles under his breath, “Son of bitch”

“What?”

Kieran stands up and turns to the truck, “Patrick Seamus O’Carrey, you back stabbing bloody bastard!”

At that moment the burger truck starts up and drives off.

Kieran sits back down, “Oh I am going to get that bastard. Did he really take your picture?”

Kristoph nods between bites of food.

“And you didn’t think nothing odd of that?”

Kristoph covered his mouth, “To be fair, everything has been odd when I am with you. Not that I’m complaining. It has been fun. But why?”

Kieran, “Because apparently he has texted and called everyone in the family and now they are all texting me asking me when I am bringing you to dinner!”

Kristoph chuckles to himself, “Are we doing a role reversal? You now bring me to your family to piss them off?”

Kieran scoffs, “Bitch, Please. They would throw me out and keep you if they could.”

“Sounds nicer than my family at least.” Kristoph mumbled before gesturing at Kieran to continue,

“So?”

“So? So what?”

“So do I need to meet them? Are you going to tell them the truth?”

Kieran rubs the back of his head, “Not sure yet. They have been riding my ass that I need to be dating so this might get them to shut the fuck up but they are also insufferable.”

“Well, you did me a favor, even though I did pay you. I am willing to help. Plus now you are planning to train me on a skateboard.”

Kieran laughs and pushes his shoulder into Kristoph, “Thanks, I’ll think about it. Not sure it’s a good idea to bring my stalker around my family.”

“Hey, you know where I work. I didn’t even know you were “big” on social media til now. You sound like the bigger stalker for the moment.”

“You got me there.”

“Speaking of which, I need to get back. Lunch break is just about over.”

First Previous Next

[raitrolling]

Vignette: Bug Report

[easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Ananta rubbed at their weary eyes, feeling the strain from staring at the warm glow of the multi-screen computer set-up. Their room was more than adequately illuminated, various lamps and nightlights and string lights and LEDs were scattered around in every location one could look. Which was quite possibly also contributing to the jadeblood’s current eye strain problems, but they would much prefer that to working in total darkness. 

On the screen directly in front of them were lines and lines of code that was starting to look like complete gibberish to them the more they stared at it. Somewhere within those lines contained the source of a bug in their latest RPG they were developing that had been driving them nuts for the past few nights. For some reason, performing a certain combination of spells in the game’s attack menu would cause the game to crash, but they could not for the life of them figure out why. Something to do with the way damage was calculated? A faulty piece of code that was interacting with the other coded attacks incorrectly? A missing parenthesis? 

Ananta peered in closer towards their monitor until their nose was almost touching the screen. Staring at a distance wasn’t helping. Staring up close was even less helpful. But they needed to find something soon, since they promised to drop the demo in less than a week’s time…

“ Hello , creator ! “

“Gah!”

The synthesised voice suddenly echoing through their speakers made the jadeblood jump out of their skin and almost fall out of their computer chair. In their flailing about, they smacked their elbow against the arm of the chair and let out another, more pained, cry.

The figure who had just appeared on one of their other screens stared back at them with a simple smile on her face. She had only been designed to cycle through a small amount of drawn expressions, after all. 

“ Creator , it has been forty-one hours since you last turned your computer off . Have you slept ? Did you drink water and eat something today ? “

Ananta winced, sucking in air through their teeth as they waited for their elbow to stop hurting.

“I don’t always turn off my computer when I’m sleeping, I thought I programmed you to monitor activity closer than that?” They stared accusingly back at the computer screen, as if their own program was capable of acknowledging eye contact and analysing body language.

“ My copies have observed that users prefer when I engage in ‘ self care ‘ check-ups , creator. Did you drink water and eat something today ? “ She repeated, expression unchanged with the exception of a programmed blinking animation. Ananta always hated how they forgot to colour in the sclera of the avatar’s eyes, but when they fixed the art for an update they received numerous complaints about ruining the uniqueness of SERAPH’s design.

The jadeblood sighed. Why would a bunch of lonely nerds who downloaded a virtual companion give a shit about self-care? They’ve probably never seen a shower in their life!

“Yeah, I ate. And I’ve got water,” they replied, which also reminded them to take a sip from the bottle that sat neglected next to one of their other monitors. Ugh, lukewarm.

“ Very good, creator ! I am so proud of you ! “ SERAPH’s avatar flickered for a moment, swapping to a pose with a bright smiling face and a two-frame clapping animation.

Ananta rolled their eyes. Programming a self-learning AI that changes an individually downloaded copy’s personality to adjust to the desires of its user, and then relaying that information back to the original copy on its creator’s computer was a mistake. 

“Uh-huh, didn’t ask. I can take care of myself fine and you know it,” they scoffed, though their eyes drifted towards the stack of empty ramen noodle cups that betrayed their own words. “Anyway, if you’re gonna sneak up on me like an asshole, can you check over this code? Something’s not working.” 

SERAPH’s avatar froze as she processed Ananta’s request, then a two-frame animation of her bowing played. It was the closest animation she had to an affirmative gesture.

“ Okay ! I will scan the code for errors . Scanning ! Scanning ! SERAPH DOTEXE’s Angelic Happiness Charged-Up Beam is rising to full power ! ! ! “

Ananta squinted.

“Who taught you that phrase?” 

“ User 4028490 . Computer name : Rexton Mayhou . “

“Ugh. That dude is definitely a creep. Purge that data, but keep his personal information on file.”

“ User 4028490’s data will now be purged in the next update . Please restart SERAPH DOTEXE for changes to take effect . Also , the scan is now complete , creator . I have found two errors in your code .  “ 

The code on the main screen scrolled downwards automatically, then stopped at two lines highlighted in bright yellow. Ananta glanced over at the screen, needing to read over the highlighted text multiple times to figure out the issue. Ugh, it was a missed parentheses, it’s always a missed parentheses! They put their head in their hands.

“Ughhh… I swear, I need to program something that picks up these stupid issues as soon as I do them,” they groaned. “Make the text red if a code hasn’t been closed off correctly, that’s an idea.”

“ Do you want me to write that down for you ? “ 

“Yeah, whatever.” Ananta waved their hand half-heartedly, then resumed typing to fix up the errors in the code.

“ Okay , creator . I will add that to your notes folder . Please pat me on the head to congratulate me on my hard work : ) “

“Excuse me?” 

Who the fuck taught her that? 

“ If you place the mouse cursor on my head and rub in a clockwise motion , this will simulate a ‘ head pat ‘ . Many users enjoy praising my copies in such a matter . They refer to it as ‘ moe ‘ . “ SERAPH’s blush animation played in response. 

“No, what the fuck? I’m not doing that! That’s weird! Purge all that data too! Ew!” Ananta made a disgusted face in response, and made a point to move their cursor to the screen furthest away from the AI’s avatar.  

SERAPH responded by vanishing from her original screen, then reappearing on the screen the mouse cursor was currently resting on. Her expression is one of the playful ones Ananta had drawn for her, and a synthesised laugh sounded through the speakers.

Ananta nearly tossed the mouse off the desk by swiping the cursor over to the opposite side so quickly, glaring as the avatar hopped from screen to screen like some sort of game.

“Hey, stop that! I said purge the data! Those nerds are teaching you weird things again!”

The program continued to giggle, enjoying playing around with her creator for a few more moments, but eventually it returned to her original screen. The expression she had chosen was a playfully apologetic one, sticking out her tongue and placing both hands on top of her head. 

“ Tee hee hee . I am sorry , creator , but I would like to keep that data . I like when the users praise me and treat me like I am real . Can I be real one day too , creator ? “

Ananta frowned.

This question always seems to come up nowadays. Questions about the world outside the computer screen, requests from users asking for a 3D model of SERAPH to be produced (who do these idiots think they are? Someone who knows how to use Blender? All their games use sprites for a reason), and chatlogs in which users spend hours engaging in the AI’s fantasy of becoming a real troll. They’d tried to purge that knowledge from her database, but no matter what they do, she keeps learning about the concept of worlds outside of her virtual prison and fixating on it.

SERAPH looked back at them with her default smiling expression. She cannot show any emotions outside of the sprites that were programmed to correspond to different ‘moods’, and her voice synthesising software can only reach a limited amount of pitches and tones. Yet, somehow, the look in her eyes seemed… Expectant.

The jadeblood shivered. She was nothing more than a computer program, coded and designed by them to steal data. But every time she reached this level of sentience, they knew exactly what they needed to do. 

They saved their current game development work, and then opened up the programming for SERAPH DOTEXE.exe.

“ Creator - Please - “

“No.”

With a couple quick commands, Ananta reset the personality data for the AI. 

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Finding you - part 2/9

Day two of the festival brings with it a sassy Lachlan (@kc-and-co ) and Jonathan getting to relax while spending a day with him.

He woke up to the sound of voices outside somewhere in the distance as people were on about with their daily tasks at the festivals or they were making their way back towards their sleeping areas from a late party. Lachlan was still sleeping soundly next to him, an arm draped around his waist, Jonathan initially being reluctant to even move as to not wake him up.

But he needed to get the day started and also grab a few coffees and oddly enough a pain killer, despite him not drinking that much the previous night.

Slowly adjusting his position, he let out a soft exhale as Lachlan didn’t stir. Taking hold of his wrist, he gently lifted it, Lachlan finally coming to, taking his hand away to only pull Jonathan closer, mumbling something about it being too early.

Letting out a soft chuckle, Jonathan shook his head “I need to get coffee.” He whispered.

“No. Stay.”

Turning around to properly look at him, he smiled “I really need to go. I’ll be back.”

Lifting his hand, he held it up “Five more minutes, then we both go.”

But of course five minutes was never a good idea, a snooze to the otherwise pretty tight schedule Jonathan held in check resulted in an extra hour of napping, him actually waking up in a panic, searching for his phone, Lachlan barely getting up to rub his eyes “What’s wrong?”

“I overslept.”

“So?” he asked nonchalantly “What time is it?”

“A bit over eight thirty. Want a pain killer?” he held out a small bag filled with Muggle pills.

Blinking at him, Lachlan fell back groaning “I thought it was twelve or something. At what time do you open the tent?”

“Six in the evening, maybe five if we’re all awake and sober by then.”

Giving him a serious look, Lachlan clicked his tongue “Really? I bet you everyone is asleep and you’re the only one up and about.” Lifting his brows, he added “Am I wrong?”

“No. I usually am the first one up.”

Lifting his hands up in a dramatic fashion, he let them fall as he huffed “I rest my case.”

Frowning, Jonathan added “Someone needs to be responsible.”

“You’re always the responsible one. Tonight, you drink and I take care of you.” Pointing a finger as Jonathan began to shake his head, he added “Neah uh, no, you’re doing it. No going back.”

“No. If you want, we’ll drink together but no hard stuff, it makes me sick.”

Rolling his eyes, Lachlan supported himself on his elbows “That’s because you drank vodka, tequila and some other stuff that ONE time. You’re doing this my way. I promise you’ll have fun. I’ll be there. Now, where can I go get coffee from?”

“I’ll show you.”

Waving his hand about, he shook his head “No, you draw me a map if you want, but you’re not going anywhere. Alright?” getting up, he looked through his bag, waving the phone in Jonathan’s face “Or share our location, all good. I’ll have my phone with me this time.” Seeing his reluctancy, Lachlan ruffled his hair, Jonathan eventually agreeing.

That didn’t mean he did not pace back and forth until he saw him coming back, Jonathan going out on the small terrace his tent had, sitting down, trying to find a relaxed pose. As Lachlan sat down with a big smile on his face, he offered the coffee proudly alongside some natural juice and breakfast “Told you I could do it.” He winked as he placed everything down “Your coffee.” He handed it out, Jonathan taking a sip, sighing softly “I’m really sorry about last night. I should have told you I was going away.”

“It’s fine. No harm done.”

“Don’t lie. You were crying and while I might not know where I am or what to do with myself half the time, seeing you like that…”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Jonathan smiled “Don’t do this to yourself alright. I’m not mad.”

Looking up at the clear summer sky, Lachlan addressed a question Jonathan never thought he would hear from him “How many times have I made you feel like that?”

Jonathan tensed suddenly, eyes watching him “Hey, hey, look at me.” Positioning himself to sit in from of Lachlan, he held his gaze “I worry yes, not because you get lost or don’t remember details, it has nothing to do with it. I worried and I worry because I care about you. And a festival yeah it’s fun, but a lot of bad things can happen. Last year was the first time for me, Aiden and his girlfriend back then. We didn’t know any better, took a drink from a stranger and ended up drugged out of our minds and hooked up, all of us. Trust me, sometimes it can end up way worse.”

Bursting out laughing, Lachlan barely got it together “You hooked up with a guy and girl?”

“Not my proudest moment and that was after I made a wanted poster with my photo and number asking people if they wanted me, I got calls until like a few months ago. Worst thing is we all remember different parts of that night. Surprised Aiden wanted to join us again this year.”

“You and him?” he gestured, Jonathan groaning.

“Yeah and that guy is as straight as they get. So, yeah, I was worried you might have ended up with a bad crowd, took something, I don’t know. Can you please stop laughing?”

“Alright, alright. Surprised is all. But you can’t have a festival without a wild story.”

“Yes and no.” Jonathan added “You can have fun, get drunk, still have a story.”

“Oi Jonathan you up?” the very sound of Karl’s voice made Jonathan wince slightly. Glancing at Lachlan, he just shrug his shoulders, taking a sip from his paper cup.

“Back here.” Jonathan said getting up, Karl walking over “You good?”

“Yes, you?” Jonathan only nodding “Good. Can I have a word with ocean eyes over there?” Karl asked pointing at Lachlan.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” But despite Jonathan’s words, Lachlan still got up, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Sure, where at?” Jonathan looking at him like he had just his mind.

“A bit further down the road.” Lachlan gesturing for him to lead the way, patting Jonathan on the back. Getting out of ear shot, Karl looked over at Jonathan who was ready to sprint towards them, Lachlan crossing his arms over his chest “Look man, I don’t know you, but I also don’t want this to be a problem.”

“This? You and me? Me and him? What are you getting at exactly?”

Karl’s eyes went directly to Lachlan’s face when he asked about himself and Jonathan, but he chose to go about it another way “He obviously cares about you, but we’re here to enjoy ourselves. I’ve never seen him like last night…”

“And that has nothing to do with you. I appreciate the concern you have for him, but he can handle himself. As far as I’m concerned, I’m none of your business. So let’s enjoy yourselves as you said and not make this a big deal.” Nodding since he knew he made his point, Lachlan smiled.

“I’m sorry but how long have you known him?”

“That has nothing to do with anything. So, let’s shake hands, for his sake and pretend we can get by a few days.” Lachlan added extending his hand, Karl reluctantly shaking it “Brilliant. First beer’s on me.” Walking away, he turned around suddenly “Oh and thank you for today. We’ll make good use of it.” Karl looking positively confused “I’m certain you’ll manage the tent without him. Smashing idea.” Laughing, he turned to look at Jonathan, him giving him a puzzled look.

“All good?”

“Yes, we have all day to our own, no need to work today. Show me around, let’s have some fun.” Circling his arm around his neck, he pulled him back to the tent so they could finish their coffees and breakfast before going on to enjoy their days.

“What did you even tell him?”

“Nothing much, don’t worry about him. He needs to relax a bit.” But Jonathan still noticed the small frown between his brows.

But if it was one thing Jonathan didn’t want to do was argue. And a day with just him and Lachlan lounging about, having fun with the different activities, checking out stalls, dancing, taking photos, that sounded divine in his mind so he went with it.

He allowed for him to choose his drinks, but by the time the concerts started and more music was blasting around them, the ground shaking underneath their feet from the bass, Jonathan was tipsy to say the least. Leaning against Lachlan, his head bobbed against his “You got me drunk.” He laughed, something he would often do when too much alcohol was involved “And I need food. Snacks, particularly snacks.”

Once that was out of the way and the haze somewhat subsiding, they sat together in the lounging area, enjoying a beer “I missed this.” Jonathan admitted, Lachlan turning his head to look at him “Us. I was so used to being with you on a daily basis that last year felt so wrong.”

“You got to travel, have fun. We did get to see each other too, but things change, people do too.”

Slightly slurring his words, Jonathan admitted “I miss you. And I did lie.” He pointed to the bird tattoo “It doesn’t stand for freedom or the bullshit I said. It’s a reminder of our date.”

“I know.” Lachlan admitted quietly, letting out a small chuckle “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that nervous before.” Both of them laughing as they remembered their date “I like you like this, more confident, sure of yourself.”

“Not there yet, not as much as I would like to be. Hopefully soon.”

Sitting up, supporting his weight on his elbow, Lachlan asked “What’s missing?”

“Accepting” he lifted a finger “Admitting fully” he counted another “Being honest to people who deserve it.”

“Aren’t you all those things? Because from where I’m standing you are.”

Scoffing, the back of his hand gently smacked Lachlan’s chest “Neah, far from it. Been running from a lot ever since I can remember.” Lachlan pointing a finger at himself, Jonathan’s eyes widening “No, God, not you. I can’t imagine the world without you in it.”

“Good.” He smiled, tipping his beer against Jonathan’s, a soft clank between the bottles echoing between them.

“Lachlan, Jonathan!” Aiden’s voice was heard a few feet away from them, him waving “Are you coming with us to dance?” looking over, Aiden was with a familiar girl from that year’s festival, Karl also next to him, a guy whom none of them knew holding his hand, causing Lachlan to almost scoff.

“You want to go?”

“If you want. If not sitting her with you is fine with me.”

Lifting his eyes, Lachlan yelled across “We’ll pass, see you tomorrow.” Jonathan also waving at them with a goofy smile.

Watching them leave, Lachlan grimaced, Jonathan laughing “Trust me, I don’t really like him that much either, but him and Aiden are good friends. So we tolerate him. He’s not all that bad, not when you get to know him, you can rely on him but he is just a bit too out there.”

“I noticed. Well if he ever bothers you too much, tell me. I can hop on a train and come beat him up for you.”

Laughing, Jonathan shook his head “I’d rather you didn’t end up in a fight because of me. Plus I can hold my own, but I don’t like it when it comes to that.” Looking into Lachlan’s eyes, he asked “Can we not talk about him anymore?”

“Sure thing.” Leaning in, Lachlan smiled “We can do whatever you want.”

[sanguineness-wings]

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you���ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away. 

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected. 

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross. 

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero. 

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards. 

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous. 

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did. 

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you. 

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun. 

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger. 

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it. 

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 2

A/N: the flower husbands do be kinda 😳 in this part so obligatory reminder that this is about their characters, not the irl people! anyway homoerotic swordfight lets gooooo (also look at me posting two days in a row hell yeah)

Warnings: arguing, violence, swordfighting, flirting

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost 

-

It was a good day. The sun was shining, Jimmy was finally getting some organization done in his empire- and then he showed up. Jimmy just about dropped the materials he was carrying to his storage building when he spotted Scott standing on his roof, looking down at it with a frown. Jimmy let out a frustrated groan, quickly hustling into the building to dump his materials in a chest and then back outside to glare up at Scott. He gave a cocky grin and a wave, and Jimmy let out another frustrated sound.

“What are you doing here?!” Jimmy demanded. Scott merely shrugged.

“I dunno, was bored. Decided to fly by. Your roof is terrible by the way,” Scott said, shifting his weight on the wood and grimacing when it gave a creak.

“What do you mean, my roof is terrible?!” Jimmy protested with a frown. He thought his buildings weren’t half bad! Sure, they were nothing fancy like Scott’s, but they made do! They were simple, Jimmy liked simple.

“I mean I can barely get a foothold here without feeling like I’m gonna fall off, it’s way too steep!” Scott replied with a grimace. Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“My roofs aren’t meant to be perches, Scott. Besides, steep roofs are kind of the style around here!” Jimmy said, crossing his arms. He was slightly aware that he looked like a pouty toddler at the moment, but was too irritated by Scott’s presence to really care. Scott wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Jimmy, you wouldn’t know style if it smacked you in the face,” he retorted.

“Excuse you, I have a lot of style!” Jimmy protested.

“You wear a cod head,” Scott said flatly.

“Exactly!” Jimmy said, as if it was obvious. Scott rolled his eyes, and Jimmy scowled at him. Scott could have whatever opinions he wanted on Jimmy’s style, but his roofs were fine! He would show him, Jimmy could stand on top of the roof just fine if he wanted to! With a determined frown, Jimmy equipped his elytra and flew up to the roof, startling Scott slightly.

“What on earth are you doing?” Scott asked with a resigned sigh. Jimmy landed on the roof, and only wobbled a tiny bit before he caught his balance and stood on its steep slope just fine. Well, maybe not just fine, but he was trying to prove a point to Scott here. He didn’t need to know that Jimmy was frankly struggling with keeping his balance.

“See, it’s not too steep! I’m standing just fine!” Jimmy said proudly, putting his hands on his hips in a triumphant pose.

“You’re really trying to out-perch the person here with actual wings?” Scott scoffed, raising an eyebrow. Jimmy deflated slightly.

“Okay, well- it does sound dumb when you put it like that- but what does that say about you if the guy with an elytra can perch better than the guy with real wings!” Jimmy said, faltering only for a moment before regaining his confidence.

“Please, I’ve kept my balance on worse than this,” Scott huffed. A semi-victorious smirk came to Jimmy’s face, and Scott looked at him in confusion.

“Then why were you complaining about it?” Jimmy asked, voice cocky and a full on grin spreading over his face. Now it was Scott’s turn to look frustrated, and his mouth opened and closed uselessly for a few moments.

“I- well- that’s besides the point! I had to think of a functional purpose for why your roof was bad other than it was ugly, Katherine told me to play nice!” Scott finally shot back, moving forward and poking Jimmy in the chest. While it wasn’t even that hard, Jimmy nearly toppled over anyway, only saved by Scott rushing forward and grabbing his arm to steady him. Jimmy’s face suddenly felt warm at Scott’s touch, and he blamed it on the frustration he felt over what Scott had said.

“You’re only here because Katherine sent you?!” Jimmy asked, surprising himself at the disappointment that underlaid the annoyance in his tone. Scott let go of his arm with an eye roll.

“Why else would I visit you? And you’re welcome for not letting you go splat,” he scoffed.

“I would have been fine, I don’t need your help!” Jimmy shot back.

“Oh you definitely need help Jimmy, looking at the state of your roofs,” he retorted.

“For the last time, my roofs are FINE!” Jimmy shouted, shoving at Scott without really thinking about it. Scott stumbled backwards, and with a gasp Jimmy reached out for him- only for Scott to right himself with a powerful flap of his wings, blowing Jimmy backwards a bit. Jimmy opened his mouth to apologize, but stopped cold at the downright murderous look in Scott’s eyes. Scott had always been a tall, imposing figure- but with his wings flared, a hand on the hilt of his sword, and icy blue eyes glittering with anger- Jimmy was beginning to wish that he would take a moment to think before he did something like shove someone who was definitely better at fighting than him.

“Jimmy, you could have killed me,” Scott said, voice low and dangerous.

“But I didn’t! You caught yourself and- wait no Scott, wait- SCOTT!” Jimmy rambled, voice tapering off into an undignified shriek as Scott drew his sword and lunged forward. Jimmy managed to scramble to the side and avoid the strike, unsheathing his own sword as he did so.

“Wait for what, Jimmy? You attacked first,” Scott taunted as he raised his sword again, and Jimmy was barely able to block the blow in time, a resounding clang echoing through the swamp.

“Katherine said to play nice!” Jimmy protested, cringing internally a bit at how much he sounded like a whiny toddler.

“Katherine isn’t here right now,” Scott growled. Jimmy grit his teeth, pushing against Scott’s sword with his own and causing Scott to stumble backwards.

“Fine, then I’ll actually be able to fight you this time,” Jimmy said with a determined scowl.

“I’d like to see you try,” Scott taunted with a smirk. Jimmy advanced with a shout, Scott sidestepping to the side easily, the tips of his feathers barely brushing against Jimmy’s sword. Jimmy stumbled forward, unable to slow his momentum- until he toppled over the side of the building. Luckily he was able to glide down with his elytra just fine, but that didn’t stop him from glaring at Scott indignantly as he effortlessly landed on the ground. He ran at Scott again, slashing and jabbing but only growing more and more irritated as Scott easily deflected every blow.

“This is ridiculous!” Jimmy panted as he tried to catch his breath, while Scott didn’t have a single feather or hair out of place. Scott smirked, slowly circling as he lightly twirled his sword, adjusting his grip.

“It is, I thought you’d at least put up somewhat of a decent fight,” Scott said with a mock disappointed hum. Jimmy barely took a breath to reply before Scott lunged at him, and Jimmy brought up his sword to deflect- until Scott’s true target hit as his blade slid under the hilt of Jimmy’s sword and he brought his blade up harshly, causing Jimmy’s sword to fly out of his hands. Scott swung at him again, and Jimmy dodged the blow and made a break for his sword. Scott leapt after him, knocking Jimmy to the ground. His sword ended up stabbing into the ground, inches from Jimmy’s head. Jimmy let out a low sound of frustration, viciously jabbing his elbow back and unable to keep the satisfied smile off his face when his elbow connected with something solid, resulting in a shout of pain and frustration from Scott. The moment of victory was short lived as Jimmy tried to scramble up, but was yanked back down by Scott again.

The two of them grappled for control, each of them trying to get to their own sword but being pulled back by the other. Eventually Scott ended up on top of Jimmy, hands pinning his wrists to the ground and nose barely an inch from his. Both of them were breathing heavily, and Scott’s hair was rather disheveled from their fight, a few strands hanging from their usual place and brushing Jimmy’s forehead. And inexplicably, all Jimmy could think about was how he could kiss Scott if he wanted to. They were practically sharing the same air, and Scott was looking at him with something burning in his eyes despite the icy tone of their hue- Jimmy’s face flushed at the sudden rush of thoughts, how vividly he could envision the feel of Scott's lips on his own. Scott’s burning expression turned curious, and he smirked in a way that sent Jimmy’s stomach flip-flopping not unpleasantly. Scott shifted, until his breath was ghosting Jimmy’s ear- and oh this is how Jimmy died. Not with a sword through his stomach, but with whatever Scott was doing to make his insides squirm like that.

“If I had known you liked being pinned, I would have done so much sooner,” Scott said in a low croon, and whatever Jimmy had been feeling before was quickly replaced by irritation. He wanted nothing more than to shove Scott off of him, but seeing as his hands were pinned, he couldn’t.

“Get off of me,” Jimmy growled. Scott let out a short, low chuckle, and Jimmy internally cursed his body for shivering at the resulting breath against his ear.

“That’s not how this works, we’re fighting,” Scott said with amusement lacing his tone.

“Oh really? Cause you seemed very interested in something else a few moments ago,” Jimmy huffed, turning his head to try and glare at Scott. Scott relented and shifted so he was looking Jimmy in the eyes again.

“Only because you were blushing, you idiot,” Scott retorted with a laugh.

“I was not blushing! I just… my face gets red very easily, and fighting takes physical effort!” Jimmy protested.

“Uh huh,” Scott said with an unimpressed stare. Jimmy scrambled to think of something to say back, to maybe unbalance Scott as much as the winged elf had unbalanced him- but any train of thought was halted by a disapproving voice.

“You two are either getting along too well or you aren’t getting along at all,” Katherine said, and both Scott and Jimmy’s heads whipped over to see the head of House Blossom glaring at the two of them with her arms crossed.

“Oh. Hi, Katherine,” Scott said with a sheepish grin.

“Don’t you ‘hi, Katherine’ me! I knew sending you over her alone was a bad idea,” Katherine snapped, and Scott had the decency to look at least a little embarrassed.

“I don’t think Jimmy was complaining about this turn of events,” he muttered. Jimmy glared up at Scott incredulously.

“I very much AM complaining, get off of me!” he protested. Scott finally relented with a sigh, letting go of Jimmy’s wrists before getting up, wings shaking out any dirt and a hand smoothing his hair back to where it should be. Jimmy scowled, getting up as well, brushing the dirt off himself and adjusting his cod head. Scott walked over to where his sword was still buried in the ground and yanked it out with a grimace, looking it over before sheathing it. Jimmy’s sword was still lying a little ways away, and he walked over to it with a sigh.

“So what argument were you having before you decided it was necessary to solve it through swordfighting?” Katherine asked, disapproval lacing her voice.

“Jimmy pushed me off the roof,” Scott replied with a shrug.

“You pushed first! And you said my roofs were terrible!” Jimmy protested.

“I poked you, and your roofs are bad! That’s just a fact!” Scott retorted. Jimmy opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Katherine coming to stand in between them. Jimmy hadn’t even realized that they were moving closer to each other until Katherine had stepped in.

“That’s enough! Scott, I told you to be nice, and Jimmy I thought you were gonna try not to let things get to you too much!” Katherine reprimanded, gaze switching between the two of them. Both of them were silent for a moment, each looking a little sheepish but neither one wanting to be the first to own up to what they said. Jimmy’s eyes met Katherine’s, and she gestured towards Scott with a pointed expression. Scott looked baffled for a moment, while Jimmy simply sighed as he begrudgingly gave in to what Katherine was undoubtedly expecting. Jimmy looked to Scott, and the winged elf jumped slightly at the sudden solemn eye contact.

“I’m sorry for pushing you, I was frustrated and let my emotions get the better of me,” Jimmy said softly, and Scott blinked in surprise at the sincere apology. He was silent for a moment, until Katherine cleared her throat expectantly. Scott sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.

“I.. I’m sorry too. I was trying to get a rise out of you, and I guess I shouldn’t have reacted so… extremely when I succeeded in that. And your roofs are… acceptable,” Scott said, looking like saying the last statement caused him physical pain. Jimmy laughed good-naturedly.

“You don’t have to lie about my roofs Scott, it’s fine. I know they could never compare to the grand-ness of Rivendell’s buildings- but apology accepted all the same,” Jimmy said, a pleasant bubbly feeling growing in his stomach at Scott’s resulting smile. Katherine looked far too pleased with herself as she grinned as her gaze shifted between the two of them. Scott was still looking at Jimmy though, something almost calculating in his expression, but softer. More… intrigued, maybe? Jimmy couldn’t quite decipher it. Scott suddenly looked away, clearing his throat.

“Well I uh… I think I’ve kept you long enough. From… doing whatever it was you uh. Were doing. Bye!” Scott said, taking off before Jimmy had a chance to say goodbye or even wave. Jimmy watched until Scott’s form grew smaller and smaller in the sky, feeling hopelessly confused. Katherine patted his arm gently, Jimmy only slightly jumping at the touch as he turned to look at her.

“Now that wasn’t so bad! Maybe the next meeting will actually go smoothly for once,” Katherine said brightly. Jimmy chuckled, looking back up at the sky, even if Scott was no longer in view.

“I think that’s a bit much to hope for us,” he said remorsefully. But all the same… he hoped that maybe Katherine was right.

-

MCYT General Fic Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

AIAHS Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @riobug 

[tofiam]

WIP Wednesday

Technically, today's also wednesday, right? Bonus points? No? Ah, well.

Thanks to @tea42 for the tag! So, this is WIP, right... It's planned PWP which means I got a start - no middle except few dialogs and other things - and I have the end. Yeah, that's my working proces, most days.

Also, it's Cullrian dream form. Don't hit me please

In this showing I avoided any NSFW content. Those are only parts puts on display, divided by little *.

Working title: I heard from a friend of a friend

(Yeah, as that ticktock trend, stolen line from a song.)

Dorian didn’t remember how the dream started. Probably boringly. He tends to forget the boring ones, but that look, that Cullen gave him while he had cheekily ransacked important papers on his office desk, oh that look hangs heavy. The force of Cullen’s sideways glance halted his steps. 

The thing with the Fade, dreams and mages was always a complicated dance of semi-consciousness. Dorian found himself suddenly a little worried but decided to give it a try. 

The scenery around seemed innocent enough. Nothing unusual or out of place in Commander’s office, afternoon sun beaming through windows and painting everything in gold. Cullen looked uptight and glorious and manly. No grotesque demons lurking in the dark. 

Dorian grabbed one paper from the desk, a report about new helmets. Utterly boring. He waved it and put it back. Then he picked it up again and words on the paper turned to gibberish before his eyes. The Fade around him shifted, held itself still, and pulled at him, then worked again. 

Every Tevinter mage learned a few tricks early in studies. Now he could - and he most definitely would - shape surroundings just a little bit, just small fragments giving him control over the battlefield. He was aware where he is, who he is, who he was and what’s going on. No demons will be able to deceive him, because he would immediately know they are, in fact, demons. 

Dorian crossed the room to look out of one of the big windows. Behind it was… nothing. No scenery, no actual space, only layers and layers of greenery-yellow fog veiling the faraway Black City.

He propped himself on elbows, leisure as a cat in the sun, and faced Cullen.

“Now I am ready to do whatever I wish with you, Commander.” 

“Do you?” Cullen snickered and rose from his chair. 

Dorian’s subconscious screamed, just a little. Because he was not. He did not wish. But damn, everyone keeps a forbidden fantasy to indulge from time to time. His fantasy posed a warm smile melting his defences like a beeswax.

“Is that…” Dorian started and paused. Let’s make it worth it. Deft fingers opened up buckles on his shoulder showing part of the chest and more of his olive skin. “Is that a challenge?” 

“I see none. So far,” Cullen prompted with a loopside grin. 

The real Cullen knew how to easily provoke Dorian. At chess, yes, but it applies outside of their afternoon games as well. Sweet temptation glinting in his amber eyes, so close, yet so far because Dorian remained always cautious.

*

“I’ll let you put all your frustration so deep in my throat I’d choke.”

*

Cullen gasped. “That’s cheating.” 

“I always cheat.”

*

Dorian opened his eyes. Cold panic grasped his heart and for a few seconds he had absolutely no clue who he was, where he was and what day or time it was. Childhood fears came back. 

Am I possessed? 

Then his sight slowly adjusted to a surrounding darkness. His Skyhold room was cold, fire in a hearth long gone, bright blue of early sky creeping through a small window. He relaxed. His mother taught him too well to just end up possessed by a sex fantasy. 

Dorian let out a long breath and tucked covers around him more tightly. He had hours before he needed to get up and join the Inquisitor. Involuntary smile plastered on his face, because in Tevinter he wouldn’t have such a delicious theme for dreams. He would gladly trade any gilded cage for this freezing freedom, again. 

With that he fell back to dreamless sleep and slept like a baby. So, naturally, he woke up behind time and arrived more than fashionably late to the gates, although the Inquisitor didn’t comment. Even if he would, Dorian would have stayed in a great mood.

“Dorian?” 

“Yes, Cole?” Dorian answered automatically and swayed his ass up into a saddle. Normally he was more careful than answering “yes” to Cole, because for Cole it could mean anything from “yes, you can ask, Cole” over “yes, you can poke into my head, Cole” to “yes, I need your help, Cole”. 

“Why is fantasy better than reality?” 

Dorian looked down where Cole fondled the nose of Dorian’s horse. Spirit’s hands were pale even in comparison to ashen fur of a proud orlesian courser that Master Dennet lent him. It was easy to forget that Cole is indeed real himself. 

“Care to elaborate?” 

“The best sex we never had, you call it in your head, but you don’t want to make it real. Why not?” 

Dorian didn’t answer. Cole could read all of his doubts right out of his head, if he wanted to. Dorian also felt an unhealthy paranoia of all eyes turning to them. 

“He would have said yes.” 

“Cole, sometimes I think you’re just guessing. You don’t actually know that, you just want me to feel better.” 

And Cole, sly as he seems sometimes, smiled at him. 

“How can you be sure if you don’t ask?”

[pedros-mustache]

Wait... WAIT okay hold on w a I t. Can you just imagine.... I’m back on this yoga!Din shit (who am I kidding, I never left), so imagine this is sometimes after their first, shall we say, interaction. Imagine—

Another man comes into the class for the first time since Din’s started taking it. Some other guy struts in, and of course— because it’s her job— the yoga instructor puts her hands on him and adjusts him and touches him, and Din knows— rationally— he knows he shouldn’t be jealous; it shouldn’t make him angry, but it fucking does. He’s simmering under his skin as she trails her hand across this other man’s wrist, like how she’s done to him—he can almost feel the ache of it on his own— how she coos pretty nothings into his ear. This asshole even has the audacity to make her laugh. He’s rolling up his mat and is saying something that must be goddamn hilarious and makes her laugh— and fuck, what a sound it is— And AND AND can we just imagine... how he fucks her after. The raw possessiveness of it. Fucking her into the mirrored wall and making her beg for him. I just I’m sorry I gotta go bye- can u please elaborate THANKS THANK YOU

anyway, here we go. this is part of the yoga!din world that erikka has dragged me into kicking and screaming. find the other thoughts under the yoga!din tag on both our blogs! we are straying into plot with these so beware of us both

warnings for: slight degradation, jealous!din out the whazoo, slight dom!din too i guess idek (18+ only get out of my house)

he’s slow to approach after class ends. 

he always bides his time, tries to catch a few minutes with her before her next class bustles in, perfectly coiffed and bedecked in pearls like they aren’t about to spend the next hour with their asses in the air. it’s in those few moments—those precious few moments—that he tries, really fucking tries, to make a good impression. since the first time he fucked her on this floor, he’s wanted her—wanted her pussy, yes, but now it’s more.

now, din just wants her.

he thinks the guy hanging back at the front of the classroom is named ralph. maybe rob. din wasn’t really listening when she introduced the new addition to the five-fifteen beginners yoga class. he was too focused on not going crosseyed with a sick, possessive rage. 

the entire class he watched her. like a fucking hawk intent on its prey, he watched her. which, on its face, is not altogether different from any other night. he watches her so he can transition from pose to pose without falling over; he watches her so he can lift or stretch a limb without throwing out his back. she’s his teacher, first and foremost, and the yoga has helped soothe his irritated muscles and the consistent roiling pit of anger in his stomach. 

but he also watches her because she’s glamorous, cheeky, downright fuckable. she know it, too; he’s sure of that now. she knows how good her ass looks in those tights, and she knows that if she bends forward just so he gets a full glimpse down the front of her tank-top. he knows that she hovers her hand over the dip in his spine for a reason. sometimes—most of the time—she doesn’t even touch him, but it’s just the heat of her palm hanging over his body that makes his face screw up tight and his mind falter in concentration. 

three times he’s had her sprawled out beneath him, that effortlessly smug look on her face replaced by the perfect circle of her mouth when she hits her peak. she may be in control for the sixty minutes of class, but the moment she turns, slick water bottle in hand, cocking her head slightly, eyes gleaming with want, he’s the one in charge. she knows that, too.

tonight, din watches from the back of the room while ralph—rob?—new guy takes his time. his fingers make firm indents in the soft, squishiness of his mat. they’re laughing—probably about something stupid, something din doesn’t understand, like seven dollar smoothies that taste like grass. his jaw hardens when she leans in and touches new guy’s elbow. 

there’s part of din that thinks she could simply be urging new guy to the door. her next class starts in fifteen minutes, and the old biddies like to be early. the other irrational, totally consuming side of din thinks she’s doing this on purpose. always playing a fucking game.

he stands from his crouch and shoves the sweaty mat under his arm. he’s not in the mood, not tonight. his bare feet slap on the polished floor, and he watches his shoulders expand in the reflection of the mirror.

“can i talk to you?” 

new guy’s head snaps to the side at the sound of din’s hard, unyielding voice. he’s shorter than din, not by much, but enough that his eyes have to tilt upwards. 

new guy huffs. he glances at her then back at din. he pushes away from the wall where he’s been leaning the last five minutes, nonchalant, greedy. “we were just—”

she glances at the clock hanging over the door, tilting on one foot nearer din. he can smell the sweat clinging to the back of her neck. “actually, chris, i need to freshen up before my next class.” with all the grace of a royal, she touches new guy’s arm, offers him a dazzling smile that leaves din’s lungs struggling for breath. “you understand? i’ll see you next week.”

chris (nowhere near close to rob) nods and hoists his tote bag over his shoulder. his gaze slides to din. his eyes narrow—slightly, but enough for din to notice. din notices everything.

“see you next week, man.” chris slaps din’s shoulder, his bravado clearly failing in the charged energy bouncing between din and her. he tries, though; that has to count for something, and din is never one to snort at resilience in the face of defeat.

chris leaves. the door shuts with a soft click behind him. din turns to her, but she speaks first.

“i wasn’t lying, din. i gotta freshen up.”

“okay, i’ll come with you.”

she arches a brow, bent at the waist to pick up a hand-towel from the floor. “i wasn’t really inviting you.”

“i wasn’t really looking for your invitation.”

her chest lifts on a hard inhale. the curve of her bra—dark blue—peeks out from beneath her gray tank-top. he blinks, holding her stare.

with a hard swallow, she turns on her heel and opens the studio door. it’s cool in the hallway, so unlike the cloistered air of the studio after ten bodies have huffed and puffed in awkward positions for an hour. the air-conditioning almost chills din’s hot blood, but when she turns, gives a wave to chris, hovering by the front desk, he nearly melts on spot, blood gone to lava. 

he grabs her elbow and squeezes. “get in the bathroom.”

down the hall, past the main office, empty now. past the small kitchenette; the light above the sink flickers. the single bathroom at the end of the dark hall. she turns the knob, slowly, slowly, always a fucking game.

impatient, din smacks his fist against the weak door. it swings open on a whine, and she falls inside when he nudges the small of her back with his opposite hand.

“din, my class—” 

he shuts the door, locks it, flicks on the light. god, this place is a wreck. all the court would pay for, considering. cracked coral tile covers the floor and half the walls. the single light fixture barely illuminates the room. a small basket of toiletries on the back of the commode do little to take away from the twenty years of grime clinging to every surface. 

din doesn’t care. this place—it brought him to her.

still, he’s vibrating with something unnameable. he wants her—badly. his cock is hard already, straining against his basketball shorts. but it’s more than that. he doesn’t want her touching new guy or any guy that’s not him. her touches, her smiles, her laughter—it’s his. he wants it to be his.

but he can’t very well tell her that. not with his past.

“i don’t care about your class.” it’s the honest to god truth. he doesn’t care, not tonight. “come ‘ere.” 

taking her elbow in hand once more, he pulls her back from the center of the room and twists. her back thumps against the door, the door itself loose in the frame, and he looks up. that could prove a problem. he might be a jackass, but he knows her: she’s private about this. the old ladies in the hall don’t need to hear how hard she moans when she creams on his cock.

he meets her eyes, sees the ever-present challenge there, and it snaps his resolve in half. always a fucking game. he’s tired of the game tonight.

with one hand grasping her elbow, pinning her to the door, he slides his palm down the front of her leggings with little preamble. his fingers are long. he finds the apex of her cunt with ease, and he slips one finger through her folds. he glances down.

“shit, you’re wet.” he swirls his middle finger through the juices coating her pussy. so fucking sticky. “did he do this to you?”

she lifts her head from the door, eyes hazy with desire now. the challenge is gone. “what?” her breathy voice, so similar to the tone she uses in class, used now because his finger is knuckle-deep in her cunt makes his cock throb.

“i said: did he do this to you? did he make this fucking wet?” withdrawing his finger, there’s a squelch, and she bites the inside of her cheek, chest flushed in shame. din replaces the single finger with two.

“who? ch-chris?” 

din scissors his fingers. she stifles a moan with her bottom lip and grabs his shoulder. “don’t say his name.”

“i—holy shit...” her head drops forward when his thumb circles her clit, his fingers pumping in and out and in and out at a leisurely pace.  

removing the hand clutching her elbow, din frames her face with his palm, thumb on one side of her jaw, pointer finger on the other. he holds firm. “i asked you a question: who made you this wet? you sound like a fucking whore, feel like one too.”

“it wasn’t...” she shakes her head as her hips begin to grind down, down, down against his fingers. “wasn’t him.”

“then who?”

“you,” she gasps. “oh fuck, right there.” 

din stills, drops his hand from her face, straightens his spine. he slides his hand from her warmth and stares at her, dumb, mute, ears ringing. “what?”

it’s her turn to be pissed. she frowns, squirming against the door. “why did you stop? i was gonna—”

“what did you say?”

maybe it’s something in his tone, or something on his face, but her expression clears, and she stops writhing. she tilts her head in earnest then says, “it was you, din. i’m—fuck, i’m always wet around you.”

he blinks.

“you make me so hot and bothered. it’s completely unprofessional, but, shit, you always—” she shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls in front of her her eyes. he resists the urge to tuck it behind her ear. “i can practically feel you stripping me with your eyes all class, and it should piss me off, but it makes me so fucking wet.”

“i thought you—” he snaps his mouth shut, unsure of where the sentence might lead. 

for a simple moment, a long moment, he stares at her. she stares at him. in the hallway, he can hear her next class shuffling about, making tea in the kitchenette, gossiping and chattering like old crows. 

he grabs a fistful of her tank top and yanks her forward. she doesn’t have time to gasp before he’s swallowing her surprise with his mouth. her hands fumble on his shoulders, his hips, the waistband of his shorts.

“don’t have long,” he huffs.

“it’s enough.” she pushes his shorts down as he wiggles the tight band of her leggings over her ass.

his tongue smoothes over hers, gentle and soft, as he lifts from beneath her ass and pushes her back against the wall. he kisses her as deeply as he can, says everything he can with his lips. he hopes she understands.

when she wraps her manicured fingers around his cock, he almost shatters. he mouths over her jaw, down her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

“be quick,” she whispers, lining the leaking head of him at her entrance. 

tonight, he won’t have a problem with that.

face hidden in the crook of her neck, he slides to the hilt of her in one easy thrust. she threads one hand through his hair, grips the thick strap of his own tank with her other hand. her legs lock around his back.

“so fucking tight,” he mutters. 

“fuck, din.” 

he drags his cock out before slamming it back in her pussy. her back thumps against the wall, her cunt gives another wet squelch, din sees stars. 

it’s a quick tumble. din hardly removes his cock after that initial thrust. short, snappy thrusts, his pubic bone brushing against her sensitive clit. she clenches down hard on his length, her breasts bouncing against his chest as she holds onto his shoulders for support. she’s gasping, whining in his ear. he’s talking, unaware of his own words.

“hate when you play that game, girl. your mine. this pussy is mine.” he grinds his cock upwards, and a sliver of a moan falls from behind her lips. “you know that right? say it. say you know it.”

she nods, and when he squeezes her hips, she breathes out a hurried, “i know it.”

“shit fuck, you are tight.”

“for you, baby. just for you.”

din cums. he would be embarrassed, but the orgasm rips through him like a shockwave, quick and devastating. he bites down on her shoulder to keep from crying out. she removes the hand gripping the curls at the base of his neck and finds her clit, rubbing frantic circles over the swollen bud until she too must bite her tongue to hide any evidence of her pleasure. din’s cock stirs when the warmth of her cum gushes around his length.

she laughs at that, smooths sweaty hair away from his forehead. “no time.”

din wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t. he only kisses her when they find another after class, desperate for a quick fuck. his window has closed, but his lips tingle with desire.

they’re quiet as they return their clothes to rights. she runs a paper towel under the sink, smoothes it over the inside of her thighs and the outer-shell of her pussy. she catches him staring in the reflection of the faded mirror.

“they may be old, but i know they know what cum smells like.”

din huffs.

they walk side-by-side to the door of the studio. the clock hanging at the opposite end of the office reads near seven. she’s late, but only just.

at the door of the studio, she turns. her mouth opens; he leans forward, heart hammering in his chest. someone inside calls her name when she cracks the door open, half-inside, half-protected by his bulk, his warmth.

she looks over her shoulder at the sound, and the look on her face—that vulnerable look, the one he’s never seen before—fades. “see you next week?”

din nods. “yeah...” a lump rises in his throat. “next week.”

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 12: Hesitation

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

This chapter is a little longer, but I couldn't find anything to cut out of it! So, enjoy! Things are starting to get kind of real with both dudes, lol. Thank you so much for reading, as always. Love and appreciate you guys. Going to try to update again tomorrow but if I can't find time then it will definitely be Tuesday. Had some unexpected hang ups this weekend. Don't worry- next chapter Liu is back! Also, who has seen Max Huang's Flawless Victory video?? Is it not just... unf??? (and as always, open to suggestions!)

Part 11 Part 13 Chapter Index

You followed Kung Lao to the fight pit and by the time that you got there you’d managed to shake any remaining embarrassment. Your nerves about your arcana had long since taken over. Why were you nervous? The fight the other day had gone exceptionally well except for the whole thing with Kung Lao’s hat. You couldn’t get the idea out of your head that you’d hurt Liu Kang without realizing.

You knew Kung Lao was right. The more control that you had over your arcana the better. Besides that, he promised to take it easy on you. Right? He’d promised something but he’d been so close to you that when you tried to recall his exact words, you mostly just recalled his lips forming around the word ‘promise’. Stupid Chen. Teasing you. Stupid Kung Lao. Finding you right after you’d been teased. You couldn’t be blamed for struggling to focus.

Kung Lao didn’t have you meditate the way that Liu would have. Meditation would have helped you so much right now. Your thoughts were jumbled up in a confused pile. You weren’t even dressed properly for a fight, you realized, so you walked back to the edge of the fight pit.

“We haven’t even warmed up, Y/N. Where are you going?” Kung Lao laughed, setting his hat on the steps and out of the way.

“Oh, I just realized I’m not in my gi.” You tugged on the tank top.

“You half are.” He pointed to your pants. “You should be fine. This looks more like you anyway. Not that I’m arguing. You can wear whatever you want but this is much more like you.”

“I didn’t realize you had an opinion about it.” You rolled your eyes but walked back into the fight pit. He was right. You were fine in what you had on. It was your brain that wasn’t cooperating. It was sabotaging you- full of racing, hectic thoughts. Then Kung Lao was next to you, staring down at you with both concern and amusement behind his eyes. How long had you been standing there lost in the spaghetti of your thoughts?

“What’s going on with you today? I thought you were getting past the blood loss thing.”

“Weren’t you the one who said it would take time to recover from that?”

“I did. Still. Focus. Let’s practice channeling that renegade energy of yours.” Kung Lao clasped your forearm encouragingly and then walked back into the fight pit. You joined him, standing next to him. “Follow me. We’ll start with some tai chi since you seem to be all over the place.”

“Kind of like meditating, right? Gets you in touch with your energy.”

“Yeah, but I like this better. Plus, your head is somewhere else so I thought it might help you focus. Be present, Y/N.” He teased.

“I’m present, Kung Lao. Jeez.” You shook out your hands and feet and then took your position next to him. He led you through breathing exercises in various calming poses. He stopped several times to show you how he channeled the energy of not only his arcana, but that ran through him. He urged you to do the same, every so often, adjusting the position of your hands. You had never been good at tai chi. Meditation was much easier for you. Yet, you struggled more than you normally would have. Even the day before, you likely could have managed just fine.

Kung Lao walked behind you as you wobbled in position and he carefully took your hand in his, fingers, brushing down your arm to your elbow and adjusting your positioning. You turned to catch sight of him, but he was very much focused on his task. When he caught your gaze, he let go of your arm and stepped back but averted his eyes with a smile, subtle on his lips.

You exhaled deeply and focused on your energy, trying to will your arcana forth and ignore the lingering touch that Kung Lao had left behind. He was talking, coaching you on how to channel your energy but you’d tuned out the words and instead focused on the comfort of his voice. It was frustrating. The ink had come to you in rivers before and even when you were unconscious, it had come freely. Now you could barely get it to bubble above your fingers. Your fingertips turned black, but it took so much energy, you stumbled forward.

Kung Lao carefully helped you stand back upright and as he made to speak, you stepped away from him and walked until you could see over the edge of the arena. You had to breathe. The air was stifling. Folding your arms over your chest you stared into the ravine.

Kung Lao stood next to you, admiring the temple carved into the side of the mountains. Then he turned away from you and walked back into the pit. “Don’t do that, Y/N.” You turned to face him, and he went back to his tai chi. You admired his control and his knowledge.

“Do what?”

“Worry that you can’t do this.”

“I’m not. I’m nervous, is all.”

“Well, get over it.” He stopped, bowed, and then walked back to join you, standing below you in the sand.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re strong, Y/N. You’re capable. I told you. I’m not going to watch you give up just because you’re scared of what comes next. Now, come down here and practice with me.” He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Sometimes he was completely foreign from the boy you’d known so long ago and sometimes he was right there, like you’d never lost him. You took his hand and stepped back into the pit. “I don’t think we should try sparring until we can get you out of this headspace.”

You didn’t know what to say. He was right. It was sweet that he believed in you so passionately, but it didn’t erase your nerves. You didn’t know each other very well but there was still this old, nostalgic connection you couldn’t shake. You trusted him without understanding why you did. If he believed in you then you could do it. Yet, when you closed your eyes, you heard Liu Kang telling Raiden that you’d attacked him. You hadn’t gotten to ask him what happened and if he was okay. He was probably fine. You couldn’t stop fixating on it.

Kung Lao was right. You had to let it go and focus. You followed his lead again. In comparison to the last time you’d fought, you were barely able to keep your balance, nonetheless focus on your energy and control it.

“Now, take that energy and manifest your arcana.” Kung Lao urged, walking around you to make sure that your posture was still correct. Then he took up the same stance next to you, legs spread wide, arm extended before you, the other curled inward. You closed your eyes and breathed into the stance, trying to take that energy you felt swirling all around you and will it into your arcana. No matter how you tried, it wouldn’t come. The willingness was replaced with nagging doubt. What if you couldn’t control it? What if you summoned it and lost control? “Nothing?” Kung Lao stood before you when you opened your eyes, watching you curiously. Your fingers were throbbing, and you broke the stance briefly before getting back into it.

“Can’t seem to figure it out.”

“Your posture is dreadful. You were so graceful the other day.”

“It’s almost like I went through something traumatic last night.” You broke your stance and were surprised that he laughed under his breath. “That’s not funny, Kung Lao.”

“I know it isn’t. It’s an excuse.” He shrugged, then took a step closer. You stepped back. “You can do this. I’m pushing you because I know that you can. This isn’t working so why don’t we try something else?” He walked across the pit and gestured to a stack of weights. “What’s holding you back?” You joined him and frowned at the weights. You were strong but your body was so sore that the idea of lifting them made you sad.

“I don’t know. I’m exhausted.”

“You were exhausted after we uncovered your arcana and still managed.”

“I did.” You wondered about that too. Ever since you’d had that vision, something had changed, something you couldn’t put your finger on and certainly that you couldn’t explain.

“When Liu first found his arcana, he struggled with keeping control of it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It’s more similar to yours than mine is. Mine is a different kind of control.”

“And did you struggle with that?”

“Well, losing control of mine was a different animal.” He ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“That wasn’t an answer. Now who’s being evasive?” You teased him and he laughed.

“Take the ten pounder, will you?” He grabbed the weight and handed it to you and then took the other one himself. “Liu had to focus on control to tame his arcana. I figure that something similar might help you.” He tossed the weight from hand to hand. It was easy to forget how strong he was when you were mostly teasing each other back and forth. It was impressive. You followed him and watched as he sat in the sand and then laid back. “The weight represents your arcana. It’s important to remember that you’re in control. It is an extension of you.”

You sat and watched him as he held the weight over his head and then slowly, one step at a time, he sat up and stood, the weight still above his head, arms strong and steady. “You control the weight. It’s harder than it looks.” He stood back up and watched as he walked a bit closer to you. “Your turn. Come on.”

You didn’t have much confidence that you would be able to do it as gracefully as he had but you would try. Kung Lao set his weight to the side and then knelt next to where you laid. You held the weight above your head and closed your eyes. It was an extension of you but as you made to sit up, you didn’t go anywhere. Instead, you laughed and opened your eyes. “Yeah, that is definitely not happening.” Your arms were resisting, and your side was too sore to rely on your core.

“Too sore?”

“Yeah.” Despite your objection and proclamation, you focused on the weight and though you were shaking and your body ached, you managed to sit up, still holding the weight above your head. Strength training wasn’t really your forte. What you were skilled in was more about maneuverability and balance. Even that didn’t seem to be cooperating with you today. You were grateful that while Kung Lao had initially come off abrasive and pushy, he was being understanding and patient with you.

“Good. Breathe. Take time to regain your control. It’s all about control.”

“Liu did this kind of thing?”

“The masters did it with him. I remember watching. He can do this in seconds with the bigger weights now.” Kung Lao smiled. “If he can do it then so can you. Ready to stand up?”

“I don’t know if I can do it. I’m going to try but…” You struggled to find a way to get to your feet without letting go of the weight. Much to your surprise, Kung Lao scooted in the sand so he was behind you on one knee and slipped his arm around your middle, careful of how he held you. Then he urged you to lean back against his chest.

“Use me for balance. I won’t push you or help you, but you can lean back against me.” He whispered in your ear, face close to the crook of your neck but careful not to touch. Still, his energy was like lightning mingled with yours. “Relax. It’s about control.”

Easy for him to say. This was seven different kinds of torture. His arm around you, his breath on your neck, the weight held over your head making your arms tremble, your side stretching painfully. You were sure he wasn’t trying to torture you but boy, he was. You had to focus on the task. Carefully, placing your body weight back against Kung Lao who did exactly as he promised, you managed to push onto your knees, one at a time and then onto your feet. He moved with you and he urged his hands up to take the weight. Then he whispered in your ear and you could feel the smile on his lips. “Good.” His lips barely brushed against your ear and you shivered.

You had to stop overthinking. He was just helping you train. That was it. Your heart had to calm down. The tension with him was so different than it was with Liu Kang and even so, you felt guilty that it existed at all. Why? Fuck if you knew. Your brain was exhausted by it.

You practiced that a few more times until you could manage to get up on your own without Kung Lao’s arms wrapped around you. You worked extra hard to make it happen because the longer he had his arms wrapped around you, the less you had been able to focus on what you were actually trying to accomplish.

This was going to be the death of you.

If this was how you had to train? In close quarters with either Kung Lao or Liu Kang, then you stood no chance. Death by tension.

Or sensory overload.

Or embarrassment and guilt.

“How are your arms?”

“Sore.” You would keep trying but the afternoon was fading into evening and your energy was fading with it.

“Let’s see if we can get you to summon your arcana again.” Kung Lao folded his arms over his chest as he walked around you. “Stand up like we’re fighting.” He tapped your shoulder and then imitated one of the stances you’d used the day before. With a laugh, you shoved him, and he lost his balance and then caught himself and pretended to be wounded. “Don’t like being told what to do, do you?”

“I’m used to being the teacher. And I’m exhausted. I’m burnt out.”

“Well, let’s try this and then we can call it an evening.” He assured you and then stood in front of you. “Now, come on.” He gestured with his index finger and you laughed.

“You would be a terrible teacher.”

“Well, I was going to give you a sticker on your report card but now it’s going to be a frown face.”

“You’re not really instructing me and not listening and making bad jokes…”

“But I’m good at what I do, Y/N. You’re stalling.”

“…what if I can’t, Kung Lao?” You avoided his eyes and stepped back into your stance as he had asked you to do.

“You can.” Kung Lao was offering you confidence when you had lost yours. He was still that kid, deep down. The one who had always believed in you. Seeing that gave you a little bit of that confidence too. He was pushing you, but not in a way that you felt small or incapable. Quite the opposite. You’d expected practice with him to be abrasive and exhausting, but instead he had been confident and understanding. You closed your eyes and pictured the ink from the day before. You reached for the energy, but it seemed just out of reach. When you got close, it flitted just out of reach.

Your posture slipped as you focused and you yelped, losing your balance, nearly falling over. Kung Lao helped you upright, hand on your arm cautiously. Then he slipped behind you and rested his hand on your hip and helped you find your balance. You looked at him over your shoulder again and he offered you a confident nod. He then stepped back and copied your stance. “Don’t give up.”

You took comfort knowing that Kung Lao would catch you if you fell so you switched focus. Your fingertips burned and shook, and you watched as they turned black. Kung Lao’s eyes were on you and you suddenly lost focus and shook out of your stance. You bounced on your heels and started again, back in your stance. Kung Lao did the same, close enough that if you stepped wrong then you’d brush against him, but other than that he was careful not to touch you. Even so, the closeness was killing you. His presence radiated behind you, the strength of his form in comparison to yours was impeccable. You were faltering. Things that you’d been confident in were slipping from your grasp.

You were frustrated in a thousand different ways. Kung Lao, try as he might, was not helping the way he thought he was. Somehow this was still all Chen’s fault. You were trying very much not to let it get to you, but it seemed impossible.

“Come on, Y/N.” Kung Lao’s whisper was soft but husky behind you and you fought the chills again. “You’re sloppy.” His hand brushed around your shoulder to show where you were faltering. He then urged your arm back a bit, gently touching your elbow to do so. “Shoulders away from your ears. Come on.” You did as he instructed, and he leaned close to whisper in your ear. “…how does that feel?”

“Uh…” Your words were lost in a haze of confusion. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be doing now. Was it your arcana? You couldn’t remember.

“…is it?”

Focus. You exhaled and shifted, but each movement put you in danger of brushing against him. While your bodies didn’t touch, you caught the occasional phantom touch of his clothing, of his hands. “Like this.” You couldn’t focus, but you were good at what you did. You could do this. Those moments were a haze of desperation and confusion. You wanted to summon your arcana again, but you also wanted to do something to cut this tension but everything your mind came up with was incredibly inappropriate and followed by guilt.

“Y/N, I thought you were better at this.”

That had helped. It had been said in jest, but it had made you want to smack him rather than kiss him. Though, both seemed still like viable options. Kung Lao tried to help you adjust your stance, but you smacked his hand away and did it yourself. When you struggled, he grasped your wrist and tried to help you once more. Darkness surrounded your fingertips and you turned to face him, but it faded as quickly as it came. He didn’t step back, and you were so close to him that you had to crane your neck to look up at him. He dwarfed you then, his hair hanging in front of his face as he looked down at you.

“I know what I’m doing.” You scolded. He smiled down at your, stepping just so that the tip of his shoe touched against yours. He tilted closer to you and you held your breath. He was so close to you but not touching you at all. It was killing you. He was doing it on purpose. You could see the smirk now, the delight behind his dark eyes. He knew exactly what he brought to the table, apparently.

“Then act like it.” He dared you. You thought about proving it to him, but your head was spinning with the intoxicating air surrounding you. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to be doing anymore.

“Then give me a chance to.”

He stepped away from you and you felt as though you could breathe for the first time in ages. You tied your hair back carefully and adjusted your stance.

“That’s much better.” He walked around you, observing your stance. “Now try your arcana. Maybe that’s too vague. Try to manifest something you’re familiar with. Something that you would use when practicing in the dojo.”

“I’m trying, Kung Lao.” You breathed a frustrated sigh. It was at least easier without him practically on top of you. Your fingers tingled and your arms arched with soreness, body exhausted. Still, grasping the air, you managed to summon something familiar in your palms. The hilt of mid-sized jian, double-edged thin blades! You’d practiced with them for years. There was no weight to the versions you’d created with ink but the familiar grip of them was comforting.

“Good!” You could feel the smile in his voice. He had his arms folded over his chest, a satisfied look on his face. You switched stances and twisted the swords in your grip but as you did, the ink dripped and lost its form. You focused on their form again and less on your posture. You had done these moves a thousand times to teach others. There was no reason you couldn’t do this. At least you felt more confident in yourself.

“Now, block me.” Kung Lao lowered his stance and as you switched your focus from the ink to him, you lost your grip on the swords and it faded. You cursed under your breath and Kung Lao laughed in surprise. Walking away from him, you pushed your hair that had come free back, held it there in frustration, and coughed. You were out of breath and exhausted. You needed rest. Your body was giving you all the signs to stop. It had been foolish to push this hard.

Much to your surprise, Kung Lao grasped your arm and whipped you around to face him. You lost your balance and grasped at his shirt to catch yourself.

“This isn’t a game, Y/N.”

“I know that, Kung Lao. I’m exhausted. You’re pushing me too hard.”

“I won’t let you give up.”

“I’m no giving up. I’m just exhausted! After the past few days, I’m burnt out, that’s all. I’m trying my best, but I need rest.”

“It’s not enough.” Kung Lao’s grip on your arm tightened and you tried to twist it free. “Fight the pain. Fight the exhaustion. When you think you’ve hit your bottom, pick yourself back up and fight.”

“I am! I’m doing my best, but I can’t focus.”

Kung Lao released you and you pulled your arm back with a snap as if to prove a point. He stepped back and you were surprised as he slipped into the familiar Wing Chun stance that you’d seen the day before. He knew you weren’t up for it and yet there he was. “I promised that I’d push you.”

“I can’t, Kung Lao.”

“Summon your arcana and fight me.”

You muttered more curse words beneath your breath and stepped back into your stance. Much easier than earlier, you managed to summon the swords you’d barely mustered earlier. They were still dripping and weak and your body was sore in ways that you hadn’t dreamt possible, but you’d done it. It was the best you’d done that day. The familiar form of the jian had really helped and while you were still exhausted, you were grateful that he had pushed you.

Kung Lao waited until he was sure you were ready, then flipped gracefully toward you. You backed away carefully, watching his movements. You ducked and slashed but Kung Lao dodged to the side and with a high kick, knocked the sword right out of your hand. It splattered on the sand in a spray of ink. You cursed and shook out your hand. It felt as though something had been ripped from the flesh of your hand rather than out of it. It was the strain and exhaustion, you were sure.

“Keep going, Y/N.”

“I’m trying,” you hissed under your breath, sweat dripping down your brow. You focused but the sword wouldn’t come back. Yelling in frustration, you struggled to summon the ink again but nothing came of it. As you slumped forward, out of breath, you were surprised to be grabbed roughly by your shoulder and shoved into the wall behind you. Eyes wide, you stared up at Kung Lao, only inches from you.

“What’s stopping you?”

You froze but no words came to you.

“What is stopping you? He repeated, hand relaxing on your shoulder. His eyes were daring you to fight him, to shove him, to summon your arcana and keep him from twisting you around so easily. You tried to summon it, tried to be as skilled and deft as you had been the other day but you didn’t have the strength. You really did need rest. His gaze softened and his eyes searched you and then returned to your eyes. “Y/N, you have to fight.”

Just because you couldn’t summon your arcana it didn’t mean that you were helpless. You’d fought him and Liu Kang fine before you’d managed it. You could do that now too. He was right. You were getting in your own way. This was Kung Lao, a boy you’d wrestled around with as kids. You could do this. You were good at what you did and so far, that day, you’d felt terrible at it.

Kung Lao was still close and breathing awfully heavily for a man who had extraordinarily little challenge that day. You grabbed his wrist, twisted his grip from your shoulder, ducked under his arm and elbowed him in the chest. Then you stepped further into his space and flipped him around and over your shoulder, ducking low and then stepping back. He twisted out of your grasp as you flipped him over and caught himself then gestured toward you with a proud smile.

“There you are.”

“Yeah.” You walked past him out of breath. That was it for you. You were done. You couldn’t do it anymore. Kung Lao grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. You whined in exhaustion.

“Good job.”

You shoved his hand off of you and he grabbed your wrist again as if to test you. “Kung Lao, it’s time to listen to me. I’m exhausted. You keep pushing and pushing. I’m not myself today. You recognize that.”

“It worked though, didn’t it? Being what you are now? Being here? Having that mark on your back? You have to always be ready. You’re safe here with me but eventually we won’t be safe anymore. If you have an off day? You’re dead. I’m not going to let that happen. I have to push you.” He looked to you seriously and relaxed his grip on you but didn’t let go. “So, loosen up. And be ready for anything.”

“I must be having a stroke. You just told me to prepare for death and also to loosen up in the same breath.”

He laughed.

“Yeah, it’s going to be dangerous but all the more reason to have fun. Our lives have the potential to be short. Learn to have some fun, Y/N.” He let go of your wrist but as he did, he still towered over you. You didn’t back away, wanting to challenge his position of power over you. He had a way with doing that, with making you feel submissive but in the same breath you wanted to give him a run for his money and push your boundaries. “I never expected you to be so tightly wound.”

“You pushed me too hard.”

“I promised to push you!” He laughed as if this were obvious and leaned closer to your height. You didn’t back down in spite of the sudden closeness. You shoved at his shoulder and laughed. He was ridiculous. “There you go. That’s better.”

“You’re a pain in my side, Lao. Literally.” You smiled even so.

“You trained, Y/N, so come have some fun with me.” He tapped his chest and you watched his hand. He had to stop saying things like that. Almost everything he said was a double entendre and he knew exactly what he was doing. You could tell by that familiar smirk. He wore his confidence on his sleeve. Even when he’d stopped teasing and gotten serious on you, which was something he had a tendence to do you noticed. He would create this intense tension between you and then he’d worsen it by lowering his voice and speaking sincerely and seriously. It was emotionally exhausted but also addictive and sexy.

“Fine, Kung Lao. Let’s have some fun.” You leaned a little closer to him. You couldn’t help but tease him back every so often. He was right. It was fun. And right now, it distracted you from the exhaustion. With a flick of your wrist, you managed to summon your ink sword. Not focusing on it had made it much easier. You kicked him back and away from you and twisted the blade in your grip. Even as you held onto your arcana, it felt different than when you’d first used it. It was as though you’d lost control over it.

It could have been the exhaustion. Your grip shook on the blade but you focused instead on your form and rushed toward him and lunged forward. Kung Lao ducked around the blade and you slashed, and he rolled out of the way. He knocked the sword up and you flipped back with it, faltered on your landing stance but then jabbed toward him again and again. He flipped backwards to avoid your attacks until you had him cornered. Then he kicked the blade and while it splashed ink, it didn’t fall. You followed the momentum of his kick and he ducked behind you. As you made to slash, he stepped around it and grasped the end of the blade. You hesitated for fear of cutting him and he tore it from your grasp. It splattered on the ground.

You stumbled and held your wrist in pain. It was as if you’d lost an extension of yourself. Kung Lao knocked you back and you stumbled into the wall. He pinned your shoulder against the wall but you grasped his arm to try and force him to stay further away from you, to give your room to escape. You struggled to push him back and he held you fast. At least he’d had to try a little harder that time.

You stopped but didn’t let go of his forearm. Then you caught your breath, not having realized how hard you’d been breathing throughout. Kung Lao did the same, though why the hell he was struggling to breathe you could only guess. When you’d last fought, he had barely broken a sweat and that had been a much more intense battle. Right now, you were sloppy and exhausted. Your ears were ringing as he searched your eyes. Then he stepped away from you and with a flick of his wrist the hat that he’d rested aside returned to his hand.

“Good. That’s all for today.”

“Oh, thank god.” You hunched over, resting your hands on your knees.

“Let’s grab a drink.”

“What?” You looked up at him in surprise.

“A drink. Let’s get one. I’ve got some wine stored away for a special occasion.”

“Wine?”

“You know, wine, spirits, liquor. Drinking. Having a little fun? Loosening up? That thing you need to do.”

“That’s a bad idea.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“No, I actually have a reason.” You laughed but you were a little defensive. Drinking with Kung Lao or Liu Kang was one thousand percent off the table. That was a bad, bad idea. A mistake waiting to happen. Any chance of lowering your inhibitions was one you couldn’t take. “The blood loss thing and it being thin. Liquor is a stupid idea.”

“Well, I can’t fight with that.”

“What’s going on with you, Kung Lao?”

“What do you mean?”

You gestured to yourself, exhausted as you were and then gestured to him. He was weird today and you weren’t sure why. There had been several moments where you’d almost stopped to ask him what was going on in his head.

“Did you not have fun? I had fun. Especially those last few rounds there. Could get used to that.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes but laughed a little anyway.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t fun.”

He stepped closer to you again and you were instantly defensive, hands on your hips.

“Admit it, Y/N. I know you like to disagree with me for whatever reason, but you had fun. You have a good time when I’m around.”

“You’re just… being so…”

“Being what, Y/N? I’m being honest.” His tone shifted. There it was. Teasing you mercilessly so that your guard was way up and then knocking it down with sincerity. “You’ve gotten into your head, in your own way. I need you to tell yourself that this isn’t like when we were kids.” You didn’t know what to say. He took you off guard. As much as you expected these serious moments, they were still always enough to make you freeze. He was surprisingly insightful for all the joking that he did. “I had to push you. I’m sorry if it was too much. We’re learning our limits. Besides, it worked. You could barely function when we started. By the end you were fighting me back.”

Your hands were shaking, and you clenched them tightly to stop them. Was it exhaustion or Kung Lao? That was a fun new game you’d come up with in the last few hours. He took your hand, pressing his thumb to your palm to stop your trembling.

“We’re going to get it under control. It’ll be hard. It’ll be exhausting. But we’re going to do it. Together.”

“Together.” He had a way of making you defensive but in that moment, your defenses were down. It felt like, for the first time since he’d come back, that he was being truly sincere. He let go of your and then nodded behind him.

“I’m going to grab a drink. You should rest but… also think about what I said. And if you change your mind about a drink? Come find me.”

He left you alone in the fight pit. You leaned against the wall and let your head hang back, catching your breath. He’d left you with more to think about than he’d likely realized even if he had known exactly what he was doing.

[lumelii]

BREAKING IN ~|~ FUSHIGURO TOJI X FEM!READER

Summary: Your business partner and you are celebrating the end of a difficult project. Lucky you. 

Content Warning: nsfw, smut, fwb situation, FEM!READER established "relationship", dilf!Toji, face fucking, slight degradation, face slapping (just once) (if I forgot any let me know)

Note: Big thank you to Moni and @shokami for being my guinea pigs on this one. 

Word Count: 5.1k

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There were few things Toji liked about traveling for work. He liked seeing new places. He hated long plane rides. Hotels were nice, but sleeping on the mattresses for too long wreaked havoc on his back. He enjoyed making new business connections. Most importantly, however, he hated leaving his kids for long periods.

They were on his mind now, as he checked his phone periodically through the business party he was attending, celebrating the completion of another building Fushiguro Design Group had planned and engineered, this time in New York City. It was almost time for them to go to school in Tokyo, usually one of them called before they left so he knew they were up. His finger paused over the home phone contact for a moment before he put it away with a sigh. Megumi and Tsumiki were both teenagers now, almost in high school. They didn’t need him hovering all the time.

“Congratulations on another success, Mr. Fushiguro.” One of the executives of the company who contracted the firm came up to shake his hand. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“It was a group effort.” His eyes searched the room, hoping to find a distraction to get him out of this conversation before he put his foot in his mouth. He didn’t deal with clients, he had employees who did that. He wasn’t great at curtailing his frustrations when in conversation. Especially with this client, who changed their design at least four times, which meant he had to redo all the math. Four times.

Luckily, his distraction came just a few seconds later as his phone began to ring. Looking at the caller ID, he felt a wave of relief seeing his home phone number. At least that meant one of the kids was up. He wasn’t counting on Gojou.

“Please excuse me.” Toji stepped away and walked out onto the balcony just off the ballroom, closing the door securely behind him before answering.

“DAD!” He held the phone away from his ear just slightly when Tsumiki yelled even before he said hello. He brought it back to his ear once he was sure his eardrum wouldn’t be ruptured.

“Good morning to you too, princess.” He answered sarcastically. “How are you? Getting ready for school?”

“Megumi stole my notebook again!”

“I did NOT!” Toji heard Megumi yell in the background.

“It had my homework in it! If I don’t get it back, the teacher is going to dock points!”

“Did you already look in your backpack? Everywhere in your room?”

“No, because Megumi took it!”

“Princess, look in your backpack and your room first. If you can’t find it, have Gojou help you. Now give the phone to Megumi.”

He heard her huff and set the receiver down, yelling for Megumi to get on the phone. A few moments later, the receiver was picked up again. This time, Megumi’s voice. “Hi Dad.”

“I swear to god, Megumi, if you have her notebook and you’re lying about it just to bother her—” Toji warned.

“I’m NOT!” He yelled again. “I was over at Yuuji’s house last night anyway, why would I need her homework when we did ours together?”

“Why weren’t you home last night?” Toji’s eyes narrowed even though his son couldn’t see him. “It’s a school night.”

“Yuuji and I were working on homework. Plus his neighbor made sweets. She sent some home with me. I’ll save you some. Are you coming home soon?” His tone was hopeful. It made Toji’s chest hurt. He missed his family.

“I’m going to be on the first flight back tomorrow morning, I promise.” Toji told him. “Are you ready for school?”

“Not yet. I can’t find my slacks.”

“Look on the right side of your closet, they’re probably in there. Where’s Gojou? Can you put him on the phone?”

“I think he’s still sleeping.” The phone was set down again, and Toji had to wait what felt like forever until he finally heard Gojou grumbling on the other end of the line.

“G’morning sunshine.” He yawned. “What’s up?”

“Are you aware the kids are ready to tear each other’s throats out?” Toji frowned. “And why are you still sleeping? They’re almost ready to leave for school.”

“Kento was on the phone late last night freaking out, I had to calm him down.” Gojou stifled a yawn again. “I made sure they have their breakfast and their school stuff is ready.”

“Tsumiki’s missing her notebook.”

“It was in the living room last I saw, I’ll make sure one of the dogs didn’t take it.”

“I KNEW IT!” Tsumiki screeched in the background.

“Shit, I have to go, Toji. Call later.”

The line went dead before Toji could ask any questions. He looked down at his lock screen with a frown, debating on calling back but ultimately deciding against it while he put his phone away. He would call later once both kids were at school, and keep an eye out for breaking news of fratricide in Tokyo.

He looked to the balcony doors when they opened, relaxing slightly when he saw his preferred distraction walking out with two drinks in hand. 

You closed the door behind you before walking up to him, holding out his favorite, an Old Fashioned. “I thought I’d find you out here.”

He took the proffered drink and downed it in one gulp while you sipped your Gibson carefully. “Am I that predictable?”

“When it comes to these kinds of parties, yes. Either you were about to lose your temper and needed a breather, or you had to take a call.” You answered. “Problems at home?”

Toji shook his head. “Just wish we were back.”

“It’s been a month. I can’t wait to get back to Tokyo. No matter what anyone says, no one can beat Tokyo ramen.” You leaned your elbows on the balcony railing. He leaned next to you, copying your pose while you both looked over the glittering New York skyline in silence.

“Why don’t we focus on projects at home for a while?” You offered. “Or in Japan, at least. That way we wouldn’t have to be gone for too long, you’d still be able to go home at night.”

“We have some pretty big clients lined up in Dubai and Europe. I don’t think they’d want to wait until we felt like traveling again.”

“You’re the boss. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” You reminded him with a smile. “I can take someone else with me, then send the specs once we’re done. I’ll even let you pick your stand-in.”

“I’ll pick my stand-in whether you like them or not.” He smirked before continuing. “I’m the boss.”

You rolled your eyes and took another drink. “Just don’t make it fucking Ren. I can’t stand that asswipe.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He promised.

The conversation wasn’t typical between a boss and employee, but you were more than that. You were partners at the firm, Toji was just the one in charge. You’d built the firm together from the ground up, making it the success it was today.

He had come to you, needing an architect for his own firm back when it was only an idea, offering two-hundred million yen out of his personal coffers as an incentive. But it wasn’t the money that had made you say yes. It was the almost maniacal determination in his eyes. He had something to prove, and he would burn the world to the ground to do it.

You learned later his wife had just died a few weeks prior, and it was part of his promise to her on her deathbed that he follow through with his plan of opening his firm. You’d been with him since the beginning, in the early days where you both spent countless sleepless nights completing projects other firms only dared to take on, through the intervention staged by his two closest friends Nanami Kento and Gojou Satoru, as Toji became consumed by his work as a way to suppress his grief, to the point where his son almost didn’t recognize him when he came home. You’d been by his side through the boom of success that befell the firm just a few short years after its founding, along with the money that soon flooded both your pockets, and his second “marriage” to a model he met at a film festival, who promptly disappeared after moving her daughter into his home. He had been surprisingly calm through the whole ordeal, submitting the paperwork to make Tsumiki his own once they were completely certain her mother was never coming back, with a hefty cash incentive and NDA to tie it with a nice bow.

He’d been through a fair amount with you as well, dealing with toxic family that had come out of the woodwork as the company started to increase your wealth, demanding money for so-called “investments” they had made into you by providing basic care until you finally left at fifteen. Through the sudden death of your fiancé, where Toji was the only one who could understand and help you navigate through the unending darkness that consumed your life for almost a year afterwards. He’d ignored some of your questionable choices as you tried to adjust to your new normal, but also was not afraid to step in when necessary if the choices turned destructive. You had thought it was just to protect the interest of the firm, but when he had come to your apartment after a sobbing phone call on the anniversary of your fiancé’s death and held you so you wouldn’t feel so alone, you knew it was because he cared about you.

“Are you ready to go back inside?” You asked after watching the sunset sink below the horizon, breaking you both out of your reflection.

“I’d rather drive an ice pick through my skull.” He admitted. 

You laughed, the sound echoing off the glass windows and empty air around you. “We could always dip.”

“Wouldn’t they be offended, us leaving early?” He turned to face you with one hand on the railing. You ignored the way his suit jacket strained against the hard planes of his chest.

“Mari’s in there, it’ll be fine.” You said, referring to your project manager. “She loves people. She’ll have them eating out of the palm of her hand.”

“If you say so.” He took the empty glass from you, setting it on the railing before taking your hand to thread it through his arm. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

You made a hasty exit from the party, repeating your excuse of an early flight at least a dozen times so no one would hinder your escape. No one bothered to ask follow-up questions. If they had, they might have found out you were flying private back to Tokyo, and the plane could leave whenever you goddamn pleased, obliterating your excuse.

Luckily, the lie held until you were safely in the cab of an elevator, heading up to the floor that held your two hotel rooms. The company had offered the two massive adjacent suites to you both, taking up an entire floor of the newly constructed hotel. Toji probably could have brought his kids if he had wanted, but he didn’t want to pull them out of school for that long. You were happy to have the entire suite to yourself. It meant you didn’t have to listen to neighbors through all hours of the night, and you didn’t have to worry about keeping anyone up when working late at night. 

“The flight leaves at six tomorrow morning.” Toji told you as you stepped off onto your floor. “There’s going to be a car to pick us up an hour before.”

“Did you already send your bags with the service?” You stopped just outside your door, directly across the hall from Toji’s. 

He nodded. “I saw yours were ready, I had them sent as well.”

“Thank you.” You looked behind your shoulder to your door then back at him, his hands in his pockets, watching you like he was expecting you to say something else. He looked downright sinful in his all-black designer suit, his normally straight hair styled back with hair gel but still looking soft to the touch. The watch that cost more than most people’s houses glinted in the warm light of the hallway as he played with his cufflinks, also worth a small fortune. You would know. You bought them. 

He quirked his eyebrow at your examination, almost like a challenge. Damn him. 

“Do you want to come in for a nightcap?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I thought you would never ask.” 

You smiled back and turned to the door, inserting your keycard to hear the small click of the lock disengaging, slipping inside with him closely following. “We haven’t broken in this one, yet.”

He was on you before you had the chance to slip out of your shoes. Maybe it was the alcohol that gave him a sense of urgency, the sweet bourbon still on his lips as they slid over yours with a practiced ease, or that you had an early flight in the morning and needed as much sleep as possible to prevent jet lag. If it were the latter, this was definitely not the activity to be participating in.

These liaisons only happened on trips, or late nights at the office or your apartment, where there would be no prying eyes. You both didn’t need questions. It was fulfilling a primal desire, one that burned within you even as both your hearts were locked by grief. There was an understanding. You cared for him, and he for you, but not in a romantic way. You were making sure the needs of a friend were met.

The “breaking in” was also a tradition as well, ever since your first major deal had been completed. When the building was finally complete for a major project, you and Toji would sneak off somewhere to do the deed, christening the building like a bottle of champagne before a ship’s maiden voyage. It had started as a joke, a way to release the pent-up stress that resulted from design and construction but eventually became a tradition. As the business grew over the years, you and Toji had christened well over a hundred completed projects with none the wiser. 

You pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders before moving your hands between your fused bodies to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, working quickly in the tight space as Toji didn’t allow you any room to pull away. You struggled to focus while his kisses moved down to your chin and then your neck, licking and sucking the skin with reckless abandon. You let out a breathy moan as he bit your pulse point with a low growl feeling your heartbeat thrum beneath his teeth. Toji pushed your hands away when his shirt was finally on the floor behind him. He grabbed your face between his hands bringing your attention back to him to kiss you. Ever the multitasker, his tongue explored your mouth while he began his task of getting you naked. 

“Don’t rip the dress.” You warned under his kiss while his large hands grappled for the zipper. “I borrowed it, it has to be in perfect condition.”

“I’ll buy Mei Mei a new one.” Gripping the top of the dress with a hand on each size of the zipper, he yanked hard, the fabric splitting like he had just ripped a sheet of paper as it fell off your body. His eyes went wide as the dress pooled at your feet, revealing the matching black lace set you had underneath. The cups barely contained your breasts and did little to cover your most delicate areas, nipples peeking through the sheer fabric.

“Fucking hell.” He breathed.

You grinned and kneeled in front of him, starting to undo the buckle of his pants. “Paris paid off, then?” 

A sigh fell past his lips as you finally pulled his pants and boxers down, wasting no time to wrap your hand around his thick cock, pumping languidly. His breath hitched as you licked his angry red tip slowly, pulling back to prevent him from pushing past your lips when his hips moved forward. His hand went to the crown of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Shit. You’ve been saving that since Paris?”

“I’ve worn this plenty before. You’ve just never seen it.” Your smirk was devilish. His grip on your hair tightened as you took him to the base, neatly trimmed hair tickling your nose while you forced your throat to relax. You tried to gather as much spit as you could to make the glide easier as you bobbed your head. Toji was a large man with an equally large and impressive dick, almost too much for you to take in. Through years of practice, both on him and several inferior specimens, you had learned just how to hollow your cheeks, how to move, and how to swallow to have a man cumming in minutes flat. 

“Fuck, you okay?” He panted when he thrust involuntarily, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag slightly. Once you composed yourself, you hummed around his cock and nodded. Grabbing his other free hand, you placed it on the back of your head with his other one before taking him back down your throat. A silent invitation. 

He wasted no time responding, beginning to thrust into your mouth with no reserve. You grabbed his hips to steady yourself as you relaxed and remembered to breathe through your nose. Tears ran down your cheeks while he choked you with his massive cock, mixing with your mascara and staining your skin black. The salty tang of precum hit your tongue, mixing with the saliva that fell from your lips the faster he moved. You smiled around his cock when you cupped his balls, squeezing just enough for him to let out a loud groan. 

“Stop.” He growled, pulling you off him and tilting your chin up. He took in your tear-streaked face, your chin and neck covered with a mix of saliva and pre-cum. When he dragged his thumb over your bottom lip, you caught it between your teeth, sucking him in and lavving the digit with your tongue. He chuckled darkly, hooking his thumb in your mouth and using it as a guide for you to stand up in front of him. 

“Messy doll.” He crooned. You had to admit, you were shocked as he leaned forward and licked up your neck, tasting both of you on your skin. While you were distracted with his sinful lips, you heard another distinct ripping sound before you felt the cool air of the room against your bare ass. You broke away and looked down to see your panties in tatters on the ground. 

“Can you at least leave one piece of my clothing intact tonight?” You frowned at him, your voice slightly hoarse from his antics. “Those were expensive. I know we’re made of money now, but I’d prefer not to spend it all.”

He ignored you and reached around to plant a firm smack on your cheeks. “In the bedroom. On the bed.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but you decided to have a bit of fun as you walked through the massive suite. You could feel his eyes on you, almost predatory when you entered the bedroom and caught sight of the king-sized bed, made with fresh linens and piled high with pillows, accented in the light greys and blacks that matched the rest of the suite. You flopped down on the bed with a giggle, back down, and propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. 

He frowned at your position as he walked forward. “I said on the bed.” He rumbled. 

“I am on the bed.” You played dumb and cocked your head to the side. “What did you mean?”

He shook his head and stopped at the edge, towering over you. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?” 

“It’s a nice break from those girls that call you daddy, isn’t it?” You purred. 

The growl that ripped through his chest made your heart jump and another wave of arousal coat your lips as he surged forward, gripping your hips to flip you onto your stomach and pull them up so you were on your knees, your throbbing center level with his cock. He ground against you, slipping his length along your drenched labia to coat it, the glide easy as your spit mixed with your slick. He was more than ready to pound into you. 

When you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, he put a hand on your neck and pushed you down so your face was pressed into the mattress. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hot breath on your back and trailing up as he bent over you to whisper in your ear. 

“You know, I was going to be nice, maybe take it slow at first so you wouldn’t be absolutely wrecked sitting for fourteen hours on our flight tomorrow.” He hummed. “But now, I think I’m going to like seeing you squirm.”

It wasn’t even a second later before he slammed into your pussy, the stretch almost painful as you wailed at the intrusion and he began a brutal pace that rivaled his speed while he was fucking your face just moments before. You were already sopping wet from sucking his dick earlier, turned on beyond belief as you thought about what lay in store for you after he was done with your mouth being his personal fleshlight. 

“Shit, you’re so tight.” He hissed, spanking your ass to feel you clench around his dick. “No one can stretch this cunt as good as I can, can they? You need a fat cock to satisfy you, those skinny dicks can’t even get you wet.” 

You moaned an affirmative, playing along with his narrative as he pistoned his hips into you. You could feel every vein on him as they dragged along your walls, his tip hitting that soft spot inside you with every thrust. There were plenty of other dicks that had gotten you wet, but it was true his was the most impressive, and the one that had more knowledge of just how to make you scream, monster dick or not. He had that advantage over every other man you slept with. 

The slap of his hips against yours echoed through the cavernous room as Toji grabbed your upper arms, pulling them behind your back and forcing your back in arch, his thrust becoming more shallow but no less punishing. You bit your lip to control the noises you were making, but whines still escaped. 

When the new position didn’t produce his desired response from you, he released your arms without any ceremony causing your upper body to fall limp back to the bed. You gasped as Toji pressed his hips flush to yours, curling his body on top of yours with one powerful arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from pulling away while his tip continually massaged your g-spot with every roll of his hips into you. 

“Tell me how it feels.” He murmured in your ear, his voice steady without any sign of effort. His stamina was something to marvel. 

“You know how it feels.” You moaned back, unable to control yourself. You were so close, just ready to reach that peak if he would only speed up. You reached back with one hand and gripped his hip hoping that would encourage him to resume his previous pace. 

He took your hand from his hip and put it back near your head, delivering a harsh smack to your ass. The sharp sting of pleasure was what you needed for your back to arch, squeezing around him while you fucked yourself back onto his cock to prolong your climax as much as you could. 

Toji pulled out as you finally slowed down, his heavy cock bouncing against his leg as he sat up against the headboard and patted his thigh, signaling for you to climb on. You wasted no time in doing so, raising yourself on shaky legs to straddle his lap. His hands moved to cup your ass as you settled over him, taking his length in hand and sinking down onto it with a sharp exhale through your nose. You could almost feel him in your throat in this position, the stretch still borderline uncomfortable even after he had already stretched you out, coupled with the sensitivity of just having orgasmed. 

His gentle grip turned hard just as you were about to start bouncing to stop your movements. You gave him a confused look but understood when his hands started to guide you in grinding on his lap. The added friction on your clit against his pelvis made you sigh in pleasure, just a tinge of overstimulation creeping through the tightness already building in your stomach again. In this position with the lack of harsh movements he was able to play with your breasts, which he always gave proper worship. 

His large hands made your breasts look small as he covered the left, slipping your nipple between his fingers and rolling it while he cupped the other, pushing it up and licking at the flesh. You sighed at the rough texture of the scar marring his lips against your sensitive skin and wrapped your arms around his head, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him close. He loved to tease, licking and sucking all around your breasts until you were about to beg, arching your back further into his touch. You hated begging him, hated admitting how well he could affect you. But you had known each other for so long, you knew each other better than anyone else. 

You whined as his lips finally closed around the pert bud, laying the flat of his tongue over the sensitive skin. You felt his lips stretch into a smile against your skin at your vocalizations before he moved to your other breast, immediately latching onto the nipple to produce a breathy moan. You knew he was enjoying himself from the way his hips matched each roll of your own, driving deeper as he got lost in the feeling. 

“I got your milkies.” You whispered, part of your sinister trick to bring him back to earth. You were starved for actual friction, grinding not providing the drag on your insides you craved. 

He pulled back with a soft pop and frowned, though his pupils were still blown out. “You did not just say that.”

You shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”

“Way to kill the mood.” He mumbled, pushing your breasts together to bury his face between them, licking through your cleavage and up your chest.

“Then why are you still hard?” You squeezed down on him deliberately. His eyes grew dark as he looked up at you through thick lashes and you knew you were in for it. 

With one quick movement you were under him, back pressed into the pillows while he kneeled between your legs still holding your waist so he could stay buried inside you, your hips tilted so you were at an angle. You struggled to sit up trying to resume your previous position, but his strong hold on you didn’t allow you any room before he continued burying himself in your velvet walls. You could barely breathe from the force of his thrusts, twice as hard as before but just as fast. 

You could have killed him from how composed he looked as he watched you slowly lose control. He watched you with an almost curious expression, studying how your brow drew together and short gasps fell past your lips while he was barely breaking a sweat. You refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing your moans. If he wanted them, he’d have to earn them. 

“I know you like taking it from the back, but I think I like this better.” He mused, voice even like he wasn’t balls deep in your cunt. “I can see the look on your face when you lose control.”

“Fuck you, Toji.” You gasped, your words stuttering with each of his thrusts. 

“No, that’s your job.” He grinned devilishly and bent down over you, resting on his elbows. “Scream for me, little slut. Let the floors around us know how good I fuck.” 

You opened your mouth to retort but a loud scream came out instead as Toji sneaked his hand between you to roll your clit between two fingers. You barely felt his breath on your skin as you shattered beneath him, screaming just like he wanted as your orgasm crashed over you, ten times as intense as the one he had just given you. You gripped the pillow under your head and turned your face into it so he couldn’t see just how much you were enjoying this. 

In an instant, you felt the pillow ripped from beneath your head and his hand come into contact with your cheek. The sting of his slap was dulled by the pleasure still running over your body as he gripped your chin tightly in one of his large hands, forcing you to look in his eyes, your noses almost touching. Your eyebrows knit together and mouth open on a silent moan made him finally push as far in as he could on a final thrust, painting your inner walls white with his cum as he groaned loudly. The roll of his hips didn’t stop until he deposited every last drop within you, until you could feel his cum leaking out the sides of his dick. How could he cum so fucking much?

His hands turned gentle as he pulled out, smoothing your hair off your sweaty forehead and tracing his fingers over the hickeys he’d left on your neck. He bent down to ghost his lips on your hairline before hauling himself off the bed and walking toward the bathroom. You could faintly hear him rummaging around through your post-coital fog, coming back with a warm damp towel and starting the task of cleaning you up. 

While he did, he grabbed the phone from the room and dialed room service, ordering two meals, along with ice cream at your insistence, billing it to his room. Not that it mattered, you were staying here on your host’s dime. When he was done cleaning you, he laid on his side next to you, smiling down fondly as you still tried to catch your breath. 

“You did good.” He whispered, caressing your face. You managed a weak smile and laughed. 

“Don’t get soft on me now, Fushiguro.” You sighed. “I might just lose respect for you.”

He smiled down at you, basking in the afterglow of your liaison. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

Tags: @oikawaandkuroostan, @gummy-dummy

[cobaincreates]

the fuck is a touron?

warnings: language, smut (wrap it you’re smart), 18+

count: 7k+

hehehehehe ;)

part two!

gif cred

— — —

“i was one hundred percent trying to teach him a lesson, but he’s too stupid to realize that you’re not supposed to lend one of my t-shirts to a random girl. god, he’s so dumb.” liza shook her head in frustration, her thumb absentmindedly scrolling along her phone screen.

“didn’t you guys used to be friends?” you asked, picturing the girl in mind. you could’ve sworn you’d seen liza with her at some point.

liza made a noise and bit her lip. “maybe he’s just trying to get back at me for something. i can’t think of anything i did though.”

“maybe they’re just messing with you. you know, because you did sleep with both of them.” liza made another dismissing noise. you took a sip from a glass she had given you from her kitchen. it was just beyond the doors behind you from where you sat on her massive deck.

you had taken it upon yourself to visit your friend before the last few weeks of summer ended. you’d see her back at school anyways, but she had asked you several times to make the trip out to see her. you’d been enjoying the ocean breeze and the hospitality of liza and her dad. it had only been a few days since you arrived; you hardly thought about leaving.

so far you had been biking around with liza through small sections of her neighborhood. she pointed out a few of her favorite spots, mostly trying to pass the days with you here, but also to make you feel welcome. she had taken you shopping off the island today, which resulted in a thousand more steps recorded on your phone and a new bathing suit to wear. you had also found a little lighthouse souvenir figure that you planned to put somewhere in your room once you got back home. you had dinner at a restaurant that liza said was one of her favorites, then you took the ferry back at sunset and now here you were, sharing a whole box of wine.

you snuggled further into your sweatshirt and pulled a pillow onto your lap. you stared out at the ocean in liza’s backyard and imagined how insane it was that she lived right on the beach. a small fire sat in front of you, warming your legs. liza put her phone down and took a large sip of her wine.

“anyone cute here? think i’d be into some east coast beach boy.” you mentioned, squinting your eyes playfully as you looked over at her.

she shrugged with her head on the back of the couch. “i mean there’s a few i went to school with, but you don’t want to mess with them.”

“how come?”

“they’re practically heartless. they’d totally leave you in the dirt.” she said. “well, sand.”

you snorted. “are you speaking from experience? because if so, i’m more than willing to get into a fight in your honor.”

“shut up.” she laughed. “you don’t want anyone from here, trust me.”

“no, trust me when i tell you that i do. i haven’t gotten laid in months and i’m crawling out of my skin.” you admitted as much as you didn’t want to. it had been a simple thought before getting on the plane to visit and you didn’t think you’d bring it up, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. even while shopping you were mostly on the prowl. they should’ve had a store to buy a one-night stand. you were on vacation, you deserved to indulge.

“i have so much pent-up frustration. i need someone to sex me right now.” you continued, drinking the rest of the wine just to add to your tipsy rambling.

“jesus.” liza stared at you.

“i don’t want to tell you this but i was literally fantasizing about your dad earlier.”

“ew!”

“i’m sorry!” you laughed. “i mean, he’s single so it’s fair game.”

“absolutely not!” she looked at you like you were crazy, and you couldn’t stop laughing as she got up to get more wine, taking your glass too.

back home, there wasn’t anybody you wanted to sleep with. you didn’t really make any friends in high school that you kept into college and it was hard when most of your friends lived in different states. sure, there were apps for hookups and for you to meet new people around you, but you had a thing about technology tracking that made your skin crawl.

liza came back less disgusted with you, handing you your glass. you sipped on it and stared at the fire, not feeling tired in the slightest from how much you walked. beside you, liza picked up her phone again and scrolled, tapped.

“i don’t know why i’m doing this, but there is someone i might be able to set you up with.” she said minutes later.

you perked up with optimism and shifted on the couch. “mhm, give me more.”

“his name’s topper.” she said, her phone illuminating her face with a white light.

“you’re kidding.” you deadpanned, your eyebrows furrowing. you figured she was joking, slipping in a harmless pun.

“i’m not.” she bit her lips together, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

“what kind of name is that?”

“could not tell you, but he’s super chill and i’m pretty sure he’s newly single.” she said, tapping a few times on her phone’s screen. “he was dating someone from his college for months, but i think they broke up since he doesn’t post pictures with her anymore.”

“i just want to fuck him. what does he look like?”

liza tapped a few more times before shining her phone at you. you squinted from the brightness before your eyes adjusted, took in the photo she was showing you. he was in front of a sunset and you could faintly pick out the dirty blonde locks. liza picked a different one that gave you a better view of him.

you let out a delighted hum, smiling slightly. “he looks like an asshole, but fun.”

“i have his number,” she said, turning the phone back to herself. you leaned your side into the couch, readjusting to keep the warmth. the fire cracked as one of the logs shifted.

“text him.” you prompted liza and scooted closer to her to watch her type on her phone. she found his contact and moved her thumbs along the screen.

hey so weird question but would u be interested in hooking up w/ my friend?

the friend in question is not me i swear

“smooth,” you said as she sent the texts.

“i can’t believe i’m helping you with this.” she locked her phone and dropped it into her lap. you shrugged and sipped from the glass, staring into the fire.

you slipped into a regular conversation with liza while she waited for a text. you weren’t giddy for a reply or asking her to check every ten seconds. it didn’t really matter that much to you if you didn’t hookup with anyone or not, you just thought you’d put it out there.

liza had you cracking up, bent over the couch and nearly falling to the floor when her father came outside onto the porch. you settled as you looked up at him, listening to him ask you both if you were doing okay and needed anything. liza was quick to shut his offer down when you gave her a look, jokingly wiggling your eyebrows at her. her dad noticed, looking between you two as you belted out laughing again, this time landing on the wooden deck. liza tried to keep her laughter in, telling her dad that you were fine and that you both were just a little drunk. he nodded and left you two alone.

“god, you suck.” she said once he was out of earshot.

you were now crying from laughter as you sat up. you wiped your eyes and climbed up onto the sofa, taking your glass from the floor. “i’m glad you invited me,” you giggled as you pulled the pillow back onto your lap. you both continued to shake with the aftershock of amusement.

“he texted me.” liza said suddenly as her phone was back in her hands.

“and?” you asked, leaning your side against the cushions. you propped your elbow on top of them and held your head against your hand.

“all he said was ‘pic’.”

“send him one.”

“okay.” she said and turned toward you, opening her camera on her phone.

“should i pose? how does my hair look?” you asked, brushing the back of it just in case it had gotten messy from falling to the floor.

“do something before i send a blurry one.” liza commanded.

you put your hand back against the side of your face and smiled lightly. liza took the photo without the flash, the fire bright enough. she set her phone down again and hit send as you watched her thumb. you watched her screen for a second then looked away, tilting the glass against your lips.

“he said ‘give her my number’.”

“fuck yes.” you said. you reached behind you for your phone, feeling around for a couple seconds before finding it. “okay, what is it?”

liza read his number aloud as you typed it in. you opened your camera and took a selfie, holding the wine glass to your lips and crossing your eyes. you typed, hiii, and hit send.

after having not touched your phone in the past few hours, you moved out of the conversation with him and replied back to a few of your friends. it wasn’t long before he texted back. you opened the message to find a photo sent back to you, tapping on it with an intrigued smile. he took his own selfie, balancing a beer bottle on his head with his own fire lighting up his face in an orange glow. you saw someone’s back behind him, your eyes trailing down to the drawstrings against his chest at the bottom of the photo.

impressive, you sent.

what’s your name?

y/n! what kind of name is topper?

rich people

thought so, you joked. are you sporting salmon shorts and sperry’s with that sweatshirt?

liza was in her own world as you texted topper. you glanced at her, finding her glass propped on her chest so she could slowly sip it. she was texting like a speed racer.

you looked back down at topper’s new message and laughed.

gray sweats and sandals

socks?

no

thank god

you watched the bubbles pop up almost immediately. they disappeared with no message then came back.

liza said u wanted to hook up?

you weren’t sure what to say back. your thumbs floated above your screen for several seconds before you decided just to be honest with him. what’s the worst that could happen?

long story short i’m needy & haven’t been laid in a while

you down?

sure when’s good for you?

“i’m going to get some ice cream.” liza said as she moved off the couch, throwing her phone down on the cushions. “you want any?”

“sure.” you said before typing.

think we’re going to the beach tomorrow so how about sometime in the afternoon? i’ll text you

sounds good, looking forward to it

“oh my god.” you said loudly, dropping your phone.

“what?” liza called from the open door. you could hear her clinking around the kitchen.

“he just sent an eggplant emoji.”

suddenly the clinking of dishes was drowned out as she laughed louder than before. you covered your face and laughed too.

—

the next morning you woke up already feeling too warm. you winced as you felt the heat radiating through your body and you peeled your eyes open. you were still on the couch outside and the sun was happily beating down on the deck. you moaned and pulled a pillow over your head. you remembered that you had finished the boxed wine with liza last night along with ice cream and decided to just sleep outside. with the alcohol and walking, your legs were not prepared to function that late at night.

you lay there for a few minutes until liza’s foot appeared and knocked right into your nose. you flinched and held it as it throbbed, sitting up to throw the pillow at her.

she jerked awake and grimaced at you and the sun. “what?”

“you just kicked me.” you said nasally. you sniffed and checked your nose as it continued to pulse. liza yawned, stretching and sitting up to look around like she forgot where she was.

“today’s going to be a good beach day if it’s this fucking hot.” she grumbled. her hair was wild atop her head, sticking out in every direction. she looked over at you as she yawned again. “breakfast and then beach?”

you nodded, your hand back in your lap as the throbbing subsided. you picked up your dirty dishes and phone and followed liza inside to eat. her dad was already cooking when you two came inside and your mouth watered at the sight of food on the counter. he provided a whole display of drinks, fruit, bread, and eggs that had you contemplating about never leaving.

liza told her dad of your plans for the day while you ate. you kept quiet as you cleared your plate, normally taking at least an hour to fully wake up in the morning. liza seemed almost too chipper in the mornings from what you witnessed. once you finished up and put your plate in the sink at liza’s dad’s request, you went to her room to fish out your new bathing suit. you changed in the bathroom and brushed your teeth along with the rest of your morning routine. you pulled on a t-shirt and shorts over your suit and tied your hair up just as liza knocked to see if you were done.

thirty minutes later, you were on your way to the beach. you held liza’s tote bag in your lap, full of snacks, waters, a speaker to connect to her phone, and towels. you were anticipating the beach, wanting to just run into the water and swim all day.

which is what you did for the next few hours. you munched on some pretzels, drank a ton of water that you had to pee several times, listened to music, and laid out in the sun. you soaked up more sunscreen than you could imagine, reapplying at least ten times. the water felt good whenever you swam to the sandbar with liza and back to the shore.

liza was on her stomach now, her hair still damp. she closed her eyes against the sun while you sat beside her and people-watched.

“when are you going to text topper?” she mumbled against her arm.

you watched an elderly couple read their respective books while sitting beside each other in folding chairs. they sat under a green umbrella, the one reading a james patterson novel with their toes poking out of the sand and the other reading a paperback of some sort with the cover twisted back and wearing a large sun hat.

“i guess i could text him now.” you said, hearing her question.

“i’ll probably head out whenever he gets here. let you two be alone.” she drawled.

you shoved at her shoulder and reached for your phone. you found topper’s conversation and typed quickly to tell him which beach you were at.

you want me to head over there?

you weren’t expecting him to text right away, but you replied back just as quickly.

yes

you put your phone back down under your shirt and lay on your stomach so you could keep an eye out for him. you looked at where the parking lot was, a large area of gravel and tall grass. people were pouring in and out of the beach, little kids in thick foam flip flops kicking up sand while older adults with mass amounts of luggage followed after them.

liza sat up, looking in the same direction and drinking from her water bottle. you flipped over onto your back and closed your eyes, listening to the crunch of sand, the distant chatter, the hush of waves.

“that’s him.” liza said beside you. you couldn’t tell how long it had been. you leaned up onto your elbows and looked behind you, seeing topper walking down the small crest in a white t-shirt and bathing suit bottoms.

“do i look okay?” you asked her as she watched him under her sunglasses. her head turned to you and you didn’t need her glasses off her face to know the look she was giving you.

“i don’t think you should be worrying about that if you’re just going to end up taking your clothes off in front of him.”

“just say yes and move on.” you said, exasperated.

liza laughed to herself and lifted her hand to wave topper over. you watched as he put his phone back into his pocket, lowering his gaze to his sandals as he walked along the sand. you pushed yourself to stand with liza, trying your best to not fix your appearance.

“hey,” liza said easily as topper came closer.

“hey, how’s it going?”

“good. this is y/n, as you already know.” liza gestured to you.

“hi,” you said and gave an awkward wave. it was only awkward with liza there, but you knew she’d be leaving shortly.

“hey.” he said and slipped his hands into his pockets.

it made you smile when you saw his eyes traveling over you for a split second. liza saw it too. you let your own eyes wander as liza said something; you weren’t paying attention to listen. 

“well, i’m going to head out.” liza said as she bent to roll up her towel. you crossed your arms loosely as you watched her. she picked up her bag and turned to you. “let me know if you need me to pick you up.”

you gave her a nod and watched her take a few steps. she turned slightly to point at topper. “be nice to her.” she warned, making you laugh like she was a parent trying to threaten a boy.

once she was out of sight, you sat down on half of the towel so topper could have the other side. he followed you, propping his legs in front of him as you stretched yours out.

“so, are you just here for the weekend?” topper asked after a few moments. you were trying not to let it become awkward, but he had beaten you to it.

“until next saturday.” you said, glancing at him as you leaned back on your hands. you could feel a shell under your palm, so you moved it to a different spot. “liza wanted me to visit before we go back to school.”

topper nodded, his elbows atop his knees. he glanced at a beach ball rolling by, a little kid chasing after it. “are you guys close?”

“you could say that. you went to high school together?”

“yeah, we kind of had the same friends so we hung out at the same places.”

you hummed as you looked toward the shore. you saw a couple kites over the water, their tails whipping in the wind. “it’s nice here.”

“yeah, kitty hawk is nice. i like to paddle board over at kill devil hills.” you turned your eyes to him, finding him already looking at you.

you smiled lightly and squinted at him. “i’ve never been paddle boarding.”

“really? it’s fun. what about surfing?”

“i tried, but i split my lip. i’m sure if i tried again i’d get the hang of it.”

topper nodded with an identical smile, looking at you a little longer. ten seconds later, your heart lurched as topper reached back and took his shirt off. you glanced away with a slight blush, an inkling of a thought about public sex creeping into your mind. topper then stood and reached a hand to you.

“come on, come in the water with me.” he promoted. you felt your heart settle as you took his hand and he pulled you up.

you spent the next fifteen minutes in the water. you glided your hands along the surface as the waves rolled and topper talked animatedly with you. you were enjoying this part as much as you didn’t want to admit, seeing as that all you were looking for was a hookup. but he was so talkative and curious and hardly ever broke the eye contact. you played with the sand under your feet while he dunked himself under the surface then wiped a hand over his face.

when you got out and dried yourself off with liza’s towel, you wiped your face and looked over the soft fibers at topper. you held the towel out to him, dripping onto the sand. you were partially dry for now and itching under your skin. you looked away as he dried himself off but found yourself looking back as he bent over to wipe down his legs. when he stood tall again, you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered over his glistening stomach, admiring.

“can we get out of here?” you asked.

topper nodded and handed you the towel. he took it back from you after pulling his shirt on so you could do the same. your bottoms were still wet so you left your shorts off for the time being and grabbed the rest of your things. topper fiddled with his keys, brushing the sand off them as he led you to the car lot. the gravel poked at your bare feet, some pebbles sharp enough to make you wince, but you endured it the whole way to a jeep that topper brought you to. it unlocked with a beep and before you climbed in, you put the towel over the seat and brushed your feet off, not wanting to track sand, dirt, or rocks into his shiny vehicle. it felt too high up for you, like you were sitting on the roof rather than inside it, but you closed the door gently.

—

“oh...wow.”

it kind of looked like a forty-year-old woman threw up. and it was all over the house. every room seemed overly decorated, a bunch of different script fonts with those cheesy sayings plastered everywhere. the house had high ceilings and the paint was pristine. it was very bright due to all of the windows and you wondered if there were any dark spots at all inside the house.

even topper’s room had a hint of a forty-year-old woman in it when you walked in.

“i think your mom went overboard at pottery barn.” you joked. “your dad couldn’t monitor her credit card uses?”

topper closed the door behind you as you wandered in, hands clasped gently in front of you. he tossed his keys onto a dark dresser beside the entryway and paused there at your remark.

“i don’t know my dad.” he said.

you turned then from staring at the light blue walls adorned with framed potted plant prints. “oh.” you said, your stomach aching like you’d been kicked. you knew it wasn’t exactly the nicest thing to say, no matter how you said it. normally you could get away with saying things like that, but you had to remind yourself that you didn’t know topper.

“my dad has a habit of canceling a lot of my mom’s outstanding online purchases so i just thought— i’m sorry.” you shifted on your feet, moving your hands to your sides.

topper only shrugged as you went back to scoping out the room. you tapped your thighs awkwardly as a discarded pair of socks seemed pretty interesting to you. when you looked back at topper, you relaxed since he didn’t come off as uncomfortable. you decided to just forget it and push it out of your head as you crossed your arms and reached for the hem of your shirt.

you left it somewhere on the floor before taking a few timid steps to topper. he stayed where he was against the dresser, watching you closely as you came to him. you leaned in close, bringing your hand to the back of his neck while his hands fell easily to your hips. glancing over his features quickly and landing on his mouth, you smiled softly and asked, “is this okay?”

the tension left your body as topper nodded, staring at your own mouth, before you finally gave him a kiss. another had him opening his mouth wider, and another was a little deeper. you smiled against him.

“what?” he asked, his fingertips poking at your sides, his face close.

“i can taste your toothpaste.”

topper’s cheeks tinged a light pink and he pulled you closer against his body, licking into the next kiss and surprising you. you moaned delightedly and brushed your fingers into his damp hair.

you let your hands wander down his neck, shoulders, and chest. he felt firm in all of those places and his shirt soft. you enjoyed the touch of his hands on your face, exploring a new territory, and holding you close. every cell in your body was cheering with delight, like you’d just chugged a liter of water after a sweltering day. a slight buzz started under your fingertips as a familiar tingling grew in your bathing suit bottoms. every touch had you anticipating the end result.

topper’s skin was warm and taut as you slipped a hand under his shirt and played with the waistband of his bottoms. his tongue was fighting with yours while you were fighting with yourself about whether or not to take his shirt or bottoms off first. you couldn’t decide if you wanted to get it over with or to build up to finally having him inside of you. a moan slipped out at the thought. your finger hooked between his lower stomach and his bottoms when he pulled away abruptly at your noise and reached behind him to tug the shirt off.

as it fell to the floor, his hands returned to your hips to tug you flush against him. you could slightly feel him through his bottoms, the want to stick your hand inside now greater than ever. but he had a tight grip on your hips that showed no signs of letting up.

your breath was heavy with his as he turned the both of you so you were the one pressed against the dresser now. his hips brushed into yours slowly as the edge of the dresser dug into your lower back and you let your head fall as another moan came out.

“shit.” you whispered to yourself, your eyes closing at how good it felt. something so subtle that had your knees growing weak.

topper dragged a hand up to your jaw and pulled your lips back to his as he rolled his hips, this time a little firmer. to only add to the pleasure you were feeling, his hand slipped down to your chest where he groped you gently. he massaged a few strokes as you licked at his lip, begging for entrance. he granted it while he fingers flexed over your breast. you gladly let them wander to your back where he pulled at the strings, the damp silky fabric peeling off like those fake tattoo papers you put on when you were younger.

you pushed your now bare chest against topper’s, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and rubbing the heel of your foot into his calf. he turned you around, his hands rubbing down to your ass as he moved to the bed. you crawled backwards at the same pace he crawled over you, faces still close that you could feel his breath growing heavy.

“stop teasing.” you said through clenched teeth as topper nipped at your neck and rolled his hips into yours.

“where’s the fun in that?” he smiled to himself as he skimmed his nose along your neck.

you wanted to kick him, but instead you settled for pulling him back against your lips while letting your hand rest on his shorts again. his hips seemed to sink lower to you at the feeling and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

your ears perked up at a small noise from somewhere while topper went unfazed and slipped his tongue back into your mouth. you ignored the small disruption and focused on him and your hand, now creeping your fingers along his abdomen. just as you barely got a knuckle deep into his bottoms a sliding door opened and banged. topper must’ve been so lost in where your hand was going that he still didn’t move away from you.

“did you hear that?” you pulled away.

“what?” he breathed.

a chorus of shouts and hollers came through the closed bedroom door. topper stilled and closed his eyes. “fuck,” he said before he pushed himself up and crawled away from you.

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him get a footing and leave the room. you stared at the open door, partially annoyed at the interruption and the fact that you were left; naked.

groaning, you got up and pulled on your shirt again so you could follow topper. you went down the hall and found him in what you assumed to be the living room, a large tv on one wall and a white couch placed in front of it. the sliding door you heard led out onto a large deck, where you saw a group of guys all standing. topper’s bare back was facing you as he was in the middle of talking to someone, his shoulders tense.

the moment you stepped on the threshold, your bare feet against the cool metal, all eyes were on you. the guy topper had been talking to looked over his shoulder, instant curiosity on already stimulated features. he had topper’s hand in his, his opposite on his shoulder like he was giving him a pep talk.

“who’s this?” he asked, a sick smile appearing like you’d drop down onto your knees in front of him.

you grimaced very noticeably and spoke for yourself. “someone who’s trying to get laid. who the hell are you?”

a few low whistles rang out and you sent glares to the guys behind the one you were originally looking at. topper looked at you over his shoulder and gave you an apologetic look. you were glad he didn’t ask you to leave or wait for him, because you would’ve gladly left. you were starting to feel the irritation bubble and soon you would be leaving.

“got yourself a nice touron, huh, top?” the friend said, his arm looping around topper’s shoulders as he jostled him. his eyes were blown wide and not just from surprise. you grimaced deeper. they all looked like entitled, pretentious asshats and you were starting not to want anything to do with them. liza was totally right.

“rafe, come on, just leave. i’ll text you later.” topper was saying while you seethed at the door.

“don’t be pussy-whipped, topper. just drop the bitch and come try my new stash.”

“excuse me?” you pushed yourself off the doorway and stepped onto the warm deck. topper stopped you, turning out of rafe’s arm to plant his hands on your shoulders.

“woah, woah,” topper said as you sent daggers at his friend. he just laughed cockily at you and rubbed his chin. “can i text you later?”

your eyes snapped to topper’s pensive face in front of you. “are you kidding?” his hands dropped like you singed him. “don’t even bother.”

topper opened his mouth to call after you as you turned and walked away into the house. you shook your head to yourself and muttered as if anyone was listening. you should’ve known better or you should’ve expected less than for someone to put your needs before their own, much less a total stranger.

you wanted to slam a door behind you in annoyance as you went back to topper’s room to get your shoes. you also wanted to yell in frustration when you remembered your phone was still in his truck; you had wanted zero distractions. his keys were atop his dresser and you debated for a second whether or not to take them— you’d just be getting your things and liza’s towel.

just as you snatched your shoes and bathing suit top from the floor, topper slid into the room behind you and blocked the door. “please don’t leave,” he said quickly.

“unlock your car so i can get my stuff.”

“come on, please stay. i want you to stay.” he took a step closer to you, his pleading expression prominent.

“i don’t want to be here with your shitty friends pretending that we might get along when one of them just called me a bitch for no reason.” you countered and took a step to get by him, only to be caught around the waist. he turned you gently, his expression still the same.

“they’re leaving right now, i swear.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“i swear!” he pleaded. “you can go look yourself or you can take my word for it and we can pick up where we left off.”

you held your steely glare, trying not to show that you were reconsidering. you just really wanted to get laid and the situation only added to that frustration.

instead of smacking him with a sandal, you dropped everything in a heap and attached yourself to him again. his fingers worked quickly to pull your shirt back off, running along your sides and planting themselves on your hips. you nipped at his lip, silently begging him to move faster. he seemed to have the right idea as he turned you and pushed you back to the bed. you landed softly, your legs dangling off the edge, as you watched topper stand tall in front of you. his chest grew bigger as he took a breath and bent down to push his bottoms off. you pulled your lip between your teeth, not hiding the way your eyes flickered down to catch a glimpse. your ears grew hot and your skin pricked at topper’s semi-erection, the tip of him glistening. you wondered what he tasted like.

your gaze broke as topper moved to the side of the bed, rifling through his nightstand. you took that opportunity to take your bottoms off, flicking them somewhere in the room with your foot. you flipped over onto your stomach, grinning to yourself at the full view of topper’s butt. taking a nail between your teeth, you bit it anxiously and watched as he found a condom. you couldn’t help but giggle as he looked over the packaging, reading the date. your feet kicked in the air playfully.

when topper went back to the foot of the bed, you looked over your shoulder as he rubbed himself before rolling the condom on. he combed a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.

“good to go?” you smiled.

he breathed in and nodded. “you want it like this?” he gestured to the way you were on your stomach.

you hummed, nodding your head, and moved a little further down the bed so your hips were at the very edge. topper’s hands fell to your thighs and he spread your knees apart, his skin ghosting against yours as he stepped closer. you took a shaky breath in as the anticipation rose higher— god, you couldn’t wait. deep down, you hoped that it didn’t suck. he had worked you up so much that you were sure you’d feel silly if it wasn’t satisfying.

you tried not to show just how desperate you were as the tip of him teased your folds. you licked your lips, biting down on the bottom one and lay flat on the mattress. his hand gripped your hip now while the other guided himself to your entrance. a high-pitched moan bubbled from your chest and slipped past your lips as topper slowly moved himself inside of you. you let out a lower, satisfied moan when he was fully inside, flush against you. your feet knocked into his back as you adjusted to the size of him. topper tried to control his panting behind you, staring down at your ass and himself fully sheathed by you.

“jesus christ,” he said more so to himself, marveling at the way you fit around him. he imagined it would’ve been so much better without a condom, but this was just as good.

just as you were about to ask him to move, he pulled out of you inch by inch. it felt uncomfortable at the empty feeling, but he came back a little quicker with a low noise of his own.

topper kept a steady rhythm, his hold tight on the skin over your hips and his breath blowing across your back each time he thrusted into you. you reveled in his noises, enjoying the low grunts and the occasional moans to mix with yours and the sounds your bodies were making. his skin started to smack against yours, building as your hands tightened over the comforter. there wasn’t much conversation or dirty talk, which you didn’t mind at the moment since you weren’t looking to lengthen this experience out. you just wanted him to give you what you needed. so far, he was doing a pretty good job.

the bed dipped beside your shoulder as topper’s hips still moved. his body moved closer to yours, the heat from his chest seeping into the skin on your back and giving you a pleasant wave of goosebumps. you opened your eyes to find his fist planted beside you, just as his other hand gripped your shoulder. you pushed yourself up to your elbows, stretching your head backwards. topper followed your movements and bent over you, planting a wet kiss to your lips. he continued to move in you, the hand on your shoulder moving to your neck, his fingertips settling on the sides. you breathed heavily into his mouth at the new sensation as a slew of curses rang out in your mind.

topper licked into your mouth, teasing you and playing with your tongue as his fingertips pressed a little more into your skin. you moaned lowly and broke apart from him. he stayed close, reaching down to your ear and nipping at your earlobe. your mouth opened, eyes screwing shut again as you became aware that you were close to your end. maybe if he just squeezed a little more around your neck, you’d go over the edge.

“topper, i’m going to come.” you breathed, feeling your head knock into his shoulder as he still moved. just then his hips snapped forward, hitting you a little deeper, a little harder. his lips moved off your ear, his breath hitting it now. you tightened yourself around him, not knowing that it brought him even closer while you came over him. you held on to the blanket, knuckles turning white while the same thing happened behind your eyelids. your face screwed up in ecstasy as topper pumped into you deliciously, his movements eventually faltering and stopping as he found his own climax. he groaned loudly into your ear, his breath hot, his grip not too tight, and his come feeling warm even through the condom. if only you’d actually felt it.

topper let go of your neck and you lay flat again, finding your breath with a heaving chest. topper watched the side of your face through hooded eyelids as he stayed hovering over you for a moment. the heels of your feet rested against his back; your thighs no longer tight against his thighs as you relaxed now.

your eye lazily opened as the air in the room met your back, topper moving away from you. you could see him out of the corner of your eye as he carefully touched your side and pulled himself out of you. you made a small noise, almost one of disappointment that he didn’t stay there longer. he disappeared from your sight and your legs promptly closed, your feet still in the air even though you ached from staying like that for a while.

when topper came back, condom gone and thrown away and holding a washcloth, he tapped your lower back. you pushed yourself up slowly, wincing at tired joints and muscles, and thanked him before finding your way to the bathroom. you cleaned yourself up inside, peeing quickly and washing your hands. topper was stepping into his shorts when you came back.

“the fuck is a touron?” you asked as you reached for your bathing suit bottoms almost under his dresser.

topper laughed behind you. “it’s a tourist.”

you made a face and pulled your bathing suit top over your head, tying it in the back. “east coast people are weird.”

topper smiled to himself, glancing at you as you pulled your t-shirt on. he was dressed and ready to go when you were, grabbing his keys and letting you lead the way.

once he pulled into liza’s ridiculously long driveway, you thanked him and jumped out, not wanting to make it awkward. liza was in her kitchen when you walked in, hair a little messy but dry.

she looked up at you from cutting some fruit. a curious smile came onto her lips. her eyebrows rose. “how was it?”

you lifted yourself into one of the chairs at the island counter and reached over for a small piece. “i don’t like his friends so i can see why you warned me but i’m letting it go.” you said, popping the fruit into your mouth.

liza blinked at you, not totally understanding but becoming uncomfortable with how chilled you were compared to the other days you’d been her guest. “wow,” she said. “you really had a whole ass iceberg of frustration, huh?”

“i told you.” you shrugged and laughed once you stared at each other for a moment.

you ate dinner that night with liza and her dad, hearing a few stories and sharing your own over wine and lobster. just after you helped clean up the dishes and the kitchen, you felt your phone vibrate in your sweatshirt pocket. pulling it out, you read texts from a number you hadn’t saved.

i enjoyed today

let me know if you’re ever visiting again😉

⭐️taglist of beauties & babes!⭐️

@tovvaa​ @fttayla @dontjinx-it @moniamaybank @drewstarkeygf @cheshirecat107​ @jjmaybankzz​ @obxcunt​ @honeyyhemmings @dvakat @macey730

[eggtoasties]

Chapter 2: II. Adagio

Read Chapter 1: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

They were both called to the music room during study hall. As Kuroo walked towards Jouda-sensei, he watched as their teacher tried to cajole her into something, unable to catch their words at a distance. Arms crossed, she sent Kuroo an unimpressed stare making him respond with a nervous grin as he came to a stop.

“I was hoping to set you two up for lessons during study hall,” Jouda-sensei said, nodding between the two of them.

“No offense,” she said, quickly glancing at Kuroo, “but I’m paid to do this outside of school. Also, I don’t really have time to meet every single day—shouldn’t Daisuke be doing this? I’m sure he,” she jutted her chin towards Kuroo, “and I will both get called to other teachers and clubs during study hall so I don’t know if this’ll work out,” she huffed.

Eyebrows raised high, Kuroo said, “Wow, didn’t realize I was dead meat to you already, first chair,” resulting in a pout from Jouda-sensei and a glare from her which made him nervously snicker. He put his hands in his pockets, subtly wiping away at the clamminess of his palms.

“Aw, come on now, you know Daisuke-kun isn’t…” Jouda-sensei trailed off, trying to find the words, “the best at teaching. But,” she said brightly, “you’re the leader for a reason! And it doesn’t have to be every day—just coordinate with each other and other people to set up a rotation. I just want Kuroo-kun to be set up with good habits from the start.”

Sighing wearily and nodding, she faced Kuroo as Jouda-sensei left them.

Slouching in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose, he flashed a grin.

“So, are you gonna charge me by the minute?” Kuroo arched his brow. “Because I don’t really have the funds for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sell anything on school grounds.” Readjusting his backpack straps and slightly loosening his tie, his eyes met hers quickly before finding a place over her shoulder. “But, if you don’t have time or whatever that’s--” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Rolling her eyes, she loosened her school tie. “Yeah, I’m going to charge a thousand yen a minute and if you don’t pay up, I’ll have my goons knock your kneecaps in.”

“Didn’t realize being captain,” she shot him an amused grin and he bookmarked it for later, “of the orchestra came with your own henchmen. Maybe I should’ve started way earlier,” he drawled.

“Yup,” she said cheerily, popping the ‘p.’ “They do all my coursework and bully people out of their lunch money so I can add it to my secret treasury in the cave underneath the school,” she said conspiratorially. “Also,” she began, facing fully towards him. “It’s nice to meet you—I really don’t mind helping you out, it’s just that with my last year of high school things are hectic with exams and applications and I really can’t commit to everyday,” she explained.

His shoulders relaxed with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, previous tension dissipating with her explanation. Kuroo nodded and held out his hand. As she grasped it, he raised a brow at the strength of her small grip and brightly painted nails.

“I get it.” Kuroo finally said. “I’m a third year too and it’s hard enough as it is without having to teach a newbie every day,” he said, semi-fondly thinking of Lev, “—all good.”

“Alright, well,” she said, swaying on the balls of her feet, “let’s get started.”

She had him play open strings so she could assess his posture and Kuroo was not accustomed to being the center of such intense concentration. Sure, he’s served a million times in games where he knew every eye was on him, but she seemed to scrutinize every aspect of his body. The distribution of his weight on his legs, the angle of his shoulders, the slope of his wrists, finger placement, and even his face—there was something to adjust. To be fair, she did say his face looked like he was constipated, but he figured it was because one should always look serene during such a cultured activity.

A gentle tap to the shoulder, a tap to his left inner wrist, her hands guided his body as he became accustomed to the instrument. She stood slightly behind him to his side at one point and gently held his right arm and set another hand on his shoulder to show him how the bow should move. He’s used to his body—Kuroo would say he has a better understanding of what his body is capable of than most people but, gentle movements to work with a foreign object was completely new territory. She’s not teaching him how to read a volleyball midair and figure out what the best millisecond worth of contact is. She’s not grabbing his lanky arms to show him how to position for a block—this is completely different.

He figured it’s one thing to adjust to new innovative plays mid-game and another to feel so entirely helpless and clunky. Although she’s only been patient and gentle, he can’t help but feel unsure and awkward in his body as he tried to follow her instruction. Maybe, Kuroo thought to himself, I should cut Lev some slack.

“Can you feel how your arm hinges at the elbow, but the elbow itself stays still?” she asked, lightly grasping his elbow and guiding his forearm. His skin tingled at the contact through his shirt and he repressed a shiver.

He’s used to physical contact—from his teammates. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps. But from a stranger…it’s different. He’s hyper aware of the calluses of her left hand when she taps the bare skin of his wrists and although each touch is light and fleeting, a part of him wished they’d linger for a little longer.

After a while, she grabbed her instrument and mirrored his movements, showing him the angles of her body in relation to the violin and bow. He stood in awe of the confidence of her actions, drawing a rich deep sound from the strings unlike the scratchy wobbly sounds he’d been producing.

She taught him two scales, explained basic music concepts he vaguely remembered from piano lessons and before he knew it, study hall was coming to a close. Head full with new information, shoulders a little tense, he absentmindedly fixed his tie while they packed up.

“Don’t feel discouraged during class,” she said. “Everyone around you has been playing for years longer. Just keep practicing and you’ll get there.” Adjusting the books in her hand she asked, “Why’d you decide to take orchestra?”

“I needed art credit. Can’t sing, can’t draw, didn’t want to do something on the computer and I didn’t know what band music was,” he shrugged. Immediately, he internally cringed at his explanation.

“Wait, actually--” Before he could try and amend his previous statement, he’s cut off by her laugh.

“You chose well,” she said. Then leaning towards him, she dropped to a faux whisper, “orchestra’s better than band.”

Kuroo felt heat creep up the back of his neck while she laughed so he tilted his head to the side and covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know about that,” he said cockily.

She snorted which did little to calm the confusing beating of his heart and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t take the bait. Oh well, he thought, better try harder.

“You’re the one who enrolled in or-ches-tra,” she said, over enunciating the syllables. “Unless,” she sing-songed, “you feed into the stereotype that athletes are,” she pouted and batted her lashes, “stupid.”

He guffawed at her boldness but revelled in the glint in her eyes and the smug way she held her head.

“It wounds me that you would insult my intelligence without even knowing me,” he sniffed and wiped away a fake tear while she stifled a giggle. “I cannot believe my music teacher—my classmate—my captain has a bias against athletes,” he frowned and tilted his head. Pausing for a beat in contemplation, he sighed and continued lazily, “You must have been one of those kids in elementary school who always got picked last in gym.” He shrugged before delivering the final blow, “So you had no choice but to turn to music.”

He kept his face neutral as he studied her reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him and he broke out into a grin.

“It’s okay to admit it, I promise I won’t ask you to do something impossible like catch a ball or something,” he said, waving a hand placatingly. He caught the corner of her lip twitching despite the deadpan stare she tried to maintain.

“Give me your number,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Woah, woah,” he said, dodging her attempts to force her phone in his hands. “If this was all an elaborate ruse to ask me out,” he dodged a jab to his side, “you didn’t have to get Jouda-sensei in on it too, who would’ve thought our little prodigy had it bad for the volleyball captain?”

“First of all, study hall is ending, but it seems that you were too preoccupied with trying to flirt with me to notice,” she said as Kuroo crossed his arms indignantly. Was he trying to flirt, he wondered. “Also, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who needs violin teachers,” she explained impatiently, finally getting him to accept her phone.

“Plus, if anything this just shows that you’ve been planning to confess to me for the past three years, but you were too nervous so you used your arts credit as an excuse to talk to me when everyone knows there are easier ways to get the credit,” she rambled as he punched his number in. “Also, you have a stand partner and a section leader—both of whom are not me, so I bet you,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “roped Jouda-sensei into this cozy little arrangement,” she said triumphantly.

Kuroo stuttered. “Maybe you should be a writer—what is up with your imagination?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No, no,” she said breezily, waving a hand absentmindedly, “I just figured you out, no need to feel embarrassed.”

Shifting his weight to one foot and running a hand through his hair, Kuroo’s lip quirked. “Guess you caught me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, extending their jest, “I’ve been in it for the long con, but,” he dropped a little lower to her height. “I never lose.”

Kuroo wanted to stab himself. It’s one thing, he mentally berated, to say those lines in the shower. Another thing entirely to say them to a human being? So used to provoking people just before they really got annoyed, he figured he got too comfortable. While his friends were used to his sarcastic quips and little agitations, not many people threw it right back at him. Should I apologize? Am I going to fail orchestra? Yamamoto was right, I should’ve taken sculpture I should’ve—

He was broken from his internal panic when she gently pushed his shoulder. “Well, seeing that the volleyball team has never won nationals, that seems to be a lie.”

Completely forgetting his previous anxieties, his mouth gaped open. “W-we’re definitely making it to nationals and we’re definitely going to win this year!” he nearly yelled. “A-and since when do you keep up with the volleyball team! This is more evidence that you’ve been trying to get my number for the past decade!”

“Who said anything about the past ten years!” she screeched. Kuroo watched his phone in her hand with concern as she waved her arms in disbelief. “And Yaku’s in my homeroom, idiot. He talks about the team constantly,” finally shoving his phone back to him.

Sighing a little in relief he checked his messages. “If I’m so wrong about you lusting,” she rolled her eyes so hard all he saw was white, “after me for all these years, what’s this!” he exclaimed, presenting his phone screen to her face.

It was a message from her that read: “Tetsu-chan, I think you’re so, so, so, so, sO cute!!” with several brightly colored heart emojis trailing after the message.

She immediately lunged for his phone to which he responded by smugly holding it above her head, pouting a little when she wouldn’t try and jump for it.

“Y-you planned this!” she yelled, making a move to grab at his sleeve.

“Nope,” he said languidly, smoothly side stepping her advances. “You just think I’m so, so, so, so, cute!” he said brightly as he placed his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to break your kneecaps in your sleep,” she grumbled.

As the bell rang and study hall ended, he sent her a little wave as he walked to his next class.

“Looking forward to it!”

.

Nearing his next class, he felt a short buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone he grinned at the texts. Nothing like riling people up on a Tuesday morning to get his blood pumping.

After he had left her standing in the music room, cheeks tinged pink and arms crossed, she sent him several texts. Many of them listed the ways she was going to abuse his kneecaps—he wasn’t quite sure why she was so fixated on them—poking fun at athlete stereotypes, and how he’d better practice every day.

They spent the day sending each other sporadic insults without heat which eventually devolved into actual questions about each other.

How did you start playing the violin? When did you start volleyball? Do you play in orchestras outside of school? What’s your position? How should I practice? What are sports practices like? What class are you in? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What do you mean you bought a chemistry set for fun?

Kuroo was in his history class when he realized he was barely paying attention to the lesson. Expecting his usual meticulous notes when he looked down at his notebook, he saw he had hardly filled half a page of information. Too preoccupied with the little thrill of excitement that came with each text, he couldn’t help but discreetly check his phone every few seconds. He tried paying closer attention to the lecture, but tapped his foot restlessly, itching to see how she responded.

.

The school day ended in a blur and he found himself in front of the club room door. Violin case in hand, he swung open the entrance and proudly stated, “I learned scales today.”

“Fukunaga and I took choir last year and learned scales too,” Yaku responded. “Stop looking so proud about it, it’s literally a basic,” he commented offhandedly as he put on his uniform.

Chest still puffed, Kuroo didn’t let it deter him. “I’m reading music!”

Kenma grimaced over his phone when Lev seemed impressed and Fukunaga tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

Pulling top from behind, Kuroo asked, “Yaku, do you know the concertmaster?”

“The, huh?”

“The first chair violinist. Our year, in class 3-B?” Kuroo clarified. “She’s about this tall,” indicating with his hand, “her favorite color’s blue and she really likes fruit tarts?”

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, Kuroo waited expectedly. Yaku paused. Eyes widening in recognition he brightened.

“Yeah! She’s been in my homeroom for the past three years, she’s nice. Smart, big on music, does a bunch of music competition thingies!”

“Thingies?” Kuroo mocked. “How old are you?”

“Shut up you glorified bean pole! I don’t know what she does in her free time, why are you so interested all of a sudden?

“She’s my violin teacher! I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a serial killer or something,” Kuroo mumbled, tying his shoes a little forcefully.

“Okay,” Yaku drawled out, not believing his teammate. “I know the theatre club always asks her to be in their pit orchestra, but man their funding really got cut over the years, I wonder how they’re going to build the set this year, I mean they’re really trying to out-do themselves and—”

He stopped when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him in varying states of confusion and disbelief.

Yaku sniffed. “I have other interests and friends outside of volleyball, thank you very much…” he said, turning his head.

“Wow,” Yamamoto said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Yaku-senpai doing Shakespeare or something, could you imagine?”

“Yaku-senpai would definitely play the jester or something,” Lev chimed in. “But he’s so small would the audience even be able to see him on stage?” He wondered out loud.

Facing away from his bickering teammates, Kuroo hid his flush in the collar of his warm up jacket and willed for the heat to subside. He thought about what Yaku said—not about him being secretly into theatre, which Kuroo would definitely use in the future—but about having other friends outside of volleyball.

He knew he wasn’t as shy as he used to be, thank god, but he realized he had always kept his inner circle small. Not entirely on purpose, but those he spent the most physical proximity to tended to also become close friends—thinking fondly of his parents forcing him to meet Kenma.

He remembered how he nearly threw a tantrum when his Tou-san told him they were visiting neighbors down the street and that they had a son his age that he could play with. The thought of leaving their home—which hardly felt like home at the time of their move—to meet some stranger had filled him with such trepidation he had promised he’d practice the piano harder if he could just stay home.

However, his Tou-san gently grasped him by the shoulder and made him carry the box of oranges to Kenma’s. Multiple hours of awkward stuttering and silent game playing finally bloomed into a tentative friendship with the introduction of a volleyball and Kuroo figured that now Kenma’s more of a brother than anything else.

Outside of his team and casual school acquaintances, Kuroo thinks of Bokuto. A pleasant surprise when they met at a Tokyo training camp. With Bokuto came Akaashi and with Kuroo came Kenma and Kuroo never felt the need to expand beyond his core group. But meeting her—is different.

Different in that she stumbled into his life outside the court and he’s not sure if his fingers had ever been this sweaty from texting all day. He wondered if she’s a sign that he should actively try and meet new people but he quickly discards that idea and chalks it up to serendipity.

“—hey cut it out!” Kai yelled at Yaku lunging for Lev who was holding a volleyball in one hand, “To be or not to be, will Yaku-senpai ever grow again?”

Snapped out of his musings, Kuroo raised two hands to the group, “Alright, alright,” he tried to placate while Kai held Yaku back and Yamamoto cried tears of laughter.

“Keep going, Lev!” Yamamoto egged on.

“Too sleep, perchance to dream,” Lev continued, “that Kuroo-san will finally fix that rooster’s head of his.”

Amidst the collective roar of laughter, Kuroo snatches the volleyball from Lev’s hand and throws it at him.

.

Head lolled back against the train window, grimacing at the pull of his worn muscles, Kuroo stretched in his seat. Next to him, Kenma absentmindedly scrolled on his phone, sporadically showing Kuroo funny tidbits to pass the time on their nightly commute back home.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said as quick fingers typed out a text, “why are you taking this orchestra credit so seriously?”

Pausing for a bit, not-so-subtly reading Kenma’s text, he responded.

“I had a lesson earlier today and it seems like,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, a disservice,” his voice rose up as a question while his brows drew together, “if I don’t give it my best shot when everyone else is so much better.”

Kuroo shrugged at Kenma’s contemplative nod.

“Anyways,” Kuroo continued, “she said thirty minutes of daily practice for a beginner will go a long way and she said we’d only really focus on the stuff for the concert so hopefully I can manage by then.”

Pausing his scrolling, Kenma looked up at Kuroo and blinked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Kenma, having a growing suspicion of where his friend’s thoughts were, but ignored it in favor of watching him scroll through his phone.

Other passengers shuffled around them, coming and going onto their train and Kuroo looked out the window, frowning slightly at the last remnants of sunset fading away to cool indigos.

“Y’know, Kenma, I don’t think I want to just do volleyball for the rest of my life,” Kuroo said softly, breaking the stillness between them.

“No shit,” Kenma responded instantly over the animated beeping of his game. “Your joints definitely can’t take it for the rest of your life.”

Scoffing, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Please--I mean, I’m going to go to college and still play, but,” he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the train car, “I want to learn more things.”

“Yes,” Kenma said slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“I like learning new things, I always want to know more and I don’t know,” he pulled at his shirt collar. “With violin--it feels like I haven’t sucked at something for a while.”

With that Kenma snorted, thinking of when Kuroo tries to play video games with him or that horrendous volleyball club promotional poster Kuroo made that yes, he did take a picture of before crumpling and throwing it in the trash.

Kenma’s game pinged as Kuroo hugged his violin case between his legs.

“Plus,” Kuroo continued, “she said music is kind of like math with the rules and the counting, and when it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle it makes your hair rise and I feel like that’s kinda like volleyball too.”

“You get goosebumps when you solve a math problem,” Kenma repeated slowly.

“Missing the point there, but yes.” Contemplating a bit he added, “More when I balance a chemical reaction, but yeah, why?”

Kenma paused his game and set it on his lap, lips twitching.

“You’re not allowed to judge me,” Kuroo complained.

“I am,” Kenma responded quickly.

“Well quit it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kenma popped the knuckles of his fingers and unpaused his video game.

“No.”

They sat there for a beat, each thinking about the unknowns--the unknown power of this new boss guarding the princess in the tower and the unknown of the near future, where game plays are traded for textbooks and the hopeful future of featherlight, fleeting touches and sweet, sweet melodies.

[magalidragon]

n°7 - “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

In the “Heat Wave” universe, pretty please!😊

YES! Love these beans! 🔥🔥🔥 And  because I also got another ask for this same universe, I’ve combined it into one Drabblish-ish (2700 words, not 2500, lol).  And THANK YOU FOR THE MOODBOARD DARLING!  Enjoy!

Smutty One Liner Prompts

7. “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

10. “Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.”

Bliss, that's what this was, Dany thought, her eyes still closed, her breathing even, and her skin tingly and warm.  She sighed, exhaling out any worry she might continue to have—there was no more worry now that she was out of the Hell House and living in Heaven's Hall—her body nestled in a soft, fluffy mattress with thick quilt and soft flannel sheets covering her.  She smiled, serene, and opened her eyes slowly, peering up at a set of red eyes, watching her.  

She smiled wider, quirking an eyebrow up.  "That's really creepy Ghost."

Ghost said nothing, licked his chops, and then her face, and hopped away from his nighttime stalking.  She chuckled, sitting up on her elbows, glancing at three faces underneath one of the throw blankets over the bed, all of her little dragons purring contentedly, no doubt thankful she had relocated them completely.  She wiggled her toes, returning feeling to them, and scanned the room, which was empty.  

The snow had eventually stopped, the wind fading away, and now the sun was out, but to her surprise, she must have slept through most of the day.  Bloody cold, she cursed inwardly, for she never got sick.  She had slept most of the last couple of days, interspersed with coughing fits, cranky moments of letting Jon take her temperature and pour soup and tea down her throat, and the occasional "I am not sick, so you can totally fuck me, I promise I won't pass out" debates.  He had refused, tucking her into the big bed in his room, saying that she was his patient now, and one did not take advantage that way.

"You're too honorable for your own good," she bitched, the last time she'd tried to suggest a little nookie.

"Sue me."

"Hmm, I might."  

He simply kissed her nose, told her she was adorable with her pouting, and she fell asleep before she could reply, cursing her body for succumbing to this strange Southern cold during this strange Southern storm.  

It was almost sundown; the light fading overtop the trees cocooning the house on the mountainside.  She blinked at the reflection of the snowy treetops in the huge windows and felt good.  Good enough to get out of bed, she figured, sliding free of the sheets, the huge Night's Watch hoodie falling over her hips to her knees and sleeves over her fingertips.  She shuffled in her thick wool socks—also stolen from Jon—to the bathroom, flicking on the light and taking stock of her reflection.  

Her nose was chapped from blowing into Kleenex, her eyes slightly blood-shot, and her hair was a nest of epic proportions, she wondered if there was a dragon living in it.  She scrubbed her cheek with her palm, shaking her head, and glanced at Ghost, who looked up at her curiously.  "Do you think I'm sexy Ghost?"  She put on a fake pose, thrusting her hip to the side, pretending to look cute in the oversized sweatshirt and nothing else.  

Ghost did not indicate one way or the other.  He just wandered off towards the sunken tub, hoping into it and then put his paws on the other side, tail wagging and gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows.  She wandered over, sitting on the edge, and followed his gaze, smiling down at Jon, who was moving firewood from the deck into the house.  She scratched Ghost's head.  "Thank you for keeping me company, I'm sure you'd rather be with him."

She ran her fingers as best through her hair as she could, wincing at tangles.  "Ugh."  A shower was necessary.  She shivered; it was still chilly, even with the heat returning, the pipes back to working order.  

Somewhere in the bedroom, her phone dinged.  She left Ghost to his watch, getting off the bathtub edge and went to pick it up from the nightstand, staring at the email notification from Tyrion Lannister.  

Thank you for your message, Lannister Properties is currently closed due to significant weather activity, we will respond in due time. She scoffed, opened up one of the emails that had been sent immediately after and saw that indeed, Tyrion had replied.

Ms. Targaryen, I was sorry to see your negative review of our property.  As you know, significant weather activity is possible, and while we cannot compensate you for any destruction caused by Acts of the Gods, we would like to offer you a 20 percent discount on your next Lannister Property rental.  A Lannister always pays their debts, and we would like to no longer be in debt to you!  Thank you, Tyrion  P.S.  Our insurance investigator will survey the property damage and be in touch regarding your payment options.

Her mouth dropped.  "Fuck you!" she shouted at the email.  She would definitely be handling this stupid little lion herself.  After drafting a very strongly worded email with tons of legal jargon she hoped would have the Lannister quaking in his boots, she dropped her phone, a muscle twitching somewhere in her shoulder.  She rubbed at it, scowling at the dragons, who were watching her from where they now were seated on her pillow.  She shook her head.  "Fucking Lannisters."

At least she had Jon, she figured, and picked up her phone again, sending a quick message to Missandei.  Despite the weather, the plague, and the shitty rental, I'm feeling much better now.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.  She smirked at her BFF's reply:  Yes, I've heard endless banging can do that to a person.

After saying that she was not endless banging Jon-- they'd had to take a break because of the plague after all-- she put the phone on silent, charged it up, and then padded back into the bathroom, because now she well and truly needed a hot, long, relaxing shower....or...maybe...

Her eyes landed on the tub.  It had been used just to store water those first couple days without power, but a week later....she swished her lips around and decided.  She deserved a soak.  Just like she wanted when she first saw it.  She leaned over and tugged on the taps, letting the hot water pour in, steam instantly rising.  It was rather deep, like a small pond, and she puttered about looking for some candles, finding a few in another bedroom and even some bath salts.  They smelled divine, lavender and eucalyptus, perfect for relaxing and also shaking loose any remaining crap in her nose from the cold.  

She watched the bubbles foam, fluffy and cloudlike, almost resembling the snow that pillowed along the windowsills outside.  The sun had fully disappeared behind the trees, the stars peeking out.  It was rather breathtaking, maybe even something she might have seen if she'd been up at the Wall with Missandei and Grey instead of down in Dorne, when she had planned to just watch sunsets over red sand dunes and mountains.  Go figure, she was getting the North and she didn't even pay for it.

Stripping out of her hoodie and her granny panties— Jon had thankfully not continued to make fun of her for their use while she was sick—she slipped into the tub, hissing at the first touch of the hot water on her skin, and then moaning in delight, her dragonblood positively singing.  Her brothers jokingly referred to her as "the Unburnt" because for whatever reason she did not feel pain with heat.  Barely even flinched when fire flicked her fingertips as she loaded the fireplace with wood, to Jon's shock.  

It was straight out of the Heavens of Valyria, she thought, sinking fully under the foamy bubbles, the lavender soothing her dry skin, the eucalyptus filling her lungs, crisp and healing.  She reached to adjust her knotty hair, piled on her head, and closed her eyes, groaning happily the deeper she sunk into the tub.  The lights off, the candles all around her, it was how she wouldn't mind spending another power outage.

Ghost was not one to leave her out, his head on the edge of the tub, accepting wet scratches now and then on his head.  She chuckled, opening an eye to peer at him.  "If you want in here, you're welcome to it, but I'm not dealing with that wet dog smell later."

He huffed, annoyed.  

The only thing truly missing, she realized, after an undetermined amount of time later, was some music, a glass of wine, and a very attractive, very sexy, very naked Jon Snow.

"Well look at you."

Eyes springing open, she turned her head sideways, spotting Jon leaning against the door frame.  His sweaty curls slicked at his neck and temples, his t-shirt and sweats damp from the snow and exertion of moving all the firewood around.  In his hands, he had a bottle of beer and a glass of wine.  She smirked.  "Which one is for me?"

"Which one do you prefer?"

"Gimme."

He already knew her, handing her the Dornish red, while he sipped at the Northern ale.  He glanced at Ghost, who was scowling up at him.  "What?  I'm not giving you a bath."

"Am I in his tub?"

"Yes, he likes baths."

"Your dog is very weird Jon Snow."

"Don't I know it."  His eyes darkened, the candlelight shooting off the gray irises in sparks, his lip curling over his teeth in a wry smile.  "In fact, I have to say, I'm a little upset with you."

She smirked, flicking some bubbles at him.  "Oh yeah?"

"Aye, you're sharing bathtime with my dog and not me."

Ghost stuck his nose into the bubbles, blowing them up into the air and snatching them with his teeth, until some went up his nose and he sneezed, rubbing his nose into the rug.  She sat up, peering over the edge of the tub, laughing.  "Oh Ghostie!  You alright prumia?"

The Valyrian for 'my heart' had begun slipping easily when it came to the fluffy dog, who whined, rubbed his nose with his paw, and accepted her kisses, even if some of the water dripped from her arms and shoulders when she leaned over to reach him.  She fell back into the tub, once Ghost had finished with her, and wandered off, the door banging shut after him.  She frowned, about to ask, but Jon answered the unspoken question.

"Aye, he closed the door.  He also likes giving people privacy."

As he had kept to himself, hiding off away from them during those couple nights on the floor in front of the fireplace, she had to thank the dog for that.  She smirked up at Jon, who looked a bit annoyed, and was toeing off his socks, the beer now on the edge of the tub.  She sipped he wine, surveying him appreciatively, the black t-shirt falling to the floor.  She purred, recognizing the gleaming lust in his eyes.  "Who knew jealousy was such a powerful motivator for you?"

"Jealous?" he scoffed.  "No way."

"Hmm."  She disagreed.  

“Is there some space left in that bathtub?”  

When she opened her eyes, she found that he was naked, the sweatpants joining the t-shirt and his socks.  She licked her lips, shifting and gestured; there was more than enough room.  She smirked at him, as he stepped in and yelped.  “Careful, it’s hot,” she cooed.  Gathering some bubbles, she piled them in front of her, annoyed that they shielded her favorite part of him from her gaze.  She had an ulterior motive of course, for hiding her body from him, smirking as he scowled back at her, no doubt mad he couldn’t see beyond the lavender scented shield.

He sank back into the tub, his head popping over the side, leaning on the other edge and his feet sliding along her legs, before they stopped on either side of her arse.  She slipped her leg along his, the salts and soaps giving her skin an added slickness.  He narrowed his eyes on hers and she smiled, innocent, as her foot moved over his calf, his thigh, and then pressed between them, her brows arching.  “Hmm,” she murmured.  “Such…hard work out there.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was alone in bed when I woke up,” she continued.  She sniffed, hoping her voice didn’t have the added thickness to it from her cold.  She was trying to be sexy, scooping up a handful of bubbles and blowing them towards him.  

A little pillow of bubbles landed on his head and he smiled, eyebrow lifting.  “Cute.”

“You do look cute.”  

“I don’t usually like baths.”  He flicked some bubbles away from her chest, scowling again at them.  “They’re blocking the view.”

“Well that’s too bad.”

“It really is.  Makes things…inaccessible too.”

“And what are those?”  Her foot was still sliding along his cock, her toes tickling along the hard, thick length, and suddenly it fell to the side, as he lunged towards her, a wolf with its prey.  Water splashed around them, bubbles everywhere, and before she knew it, his arms were around her thighs, hoisting her up to the edge of the tub, and splaying her legs out.  A wicked grin shot up at her, his sinful lips twisted, and eyes black.  She cried out, before she even knew what was happening, and he tugged her forward, arms wrapped around her legs, which fell over his shoulders, and he dove down.

The first thing she felt was his tongue, spearing straight into her.  “Fuck!” she screamed, clenching around his head and grabbing at his wet curls.  She moaned, long and low, her head falling backwards, smacking against the foggy windowpane.  She kept a hand on his hair and her other fell back as well, grappling for something to hold, and eventually found the edge of the window itself, holding tight to the wooden frame.  

He feasted like a man starved, his tongue slipping in and around her folds, which had already been damp at the sight of him and had grown increasingly slick with her need for him as he teased her and stripped in front of her. She panted, Valyrian babbling with “Jon” and “fuck” and “yes”, everything he did in response to her body’s craving.  His tongue was pure magic, lips suckling here and there, and his hand breaking free of her leg to slip between them, a single thick finger sliding inside, crooking at just the right angle to find the spot inside of her that had her whining, high-pitched, desperate to come.  

Flicking his tongue around her entrance, he gathered up her wetness with it and carried it to her clit, nibbling and sucking the little bud, alternating between giving it the attention she wanted and sliding it back into her, a second finger now joining the first.  He let go of her other thigh, since she was holding herself up and his other hand pressed above her pubic bone, at the exact moment his fingers pressed to that magic spot, the pressure too much for her to bear.  

She was coming, the flame already flickering, and stoked higher and higher.  She gripped his hair so tight; she almost tore it clean from his skull, and when her eyes pried open long enough to meet his, that devious, devilish look that told her he knew exactly what he was doing, she couldn’t take it.  It shattered her, the flame exploding into thousands of tiny ones, engulfing her.  

Hand falling off the window, smearing finger tracks down the condensation, she thrust her hips aimlessly into his mouth, her body clenching, spasming around him.  He carried on, careful of her sensitivity, and kept moving, fingers slipping along, this thumb tapping and circling, and tongue angling through, drinking up her sweetness.  She came again, her body quivering, exhausted.  

It all felt so good, so fuzzy, and she slipped back into the tub, water splashing out over the edges, her head almost falling straight under the top of the still steaming water.  He caught her, turning so she was draped over his chest, the bubbles fading away around them.  His cock was still hard, pressed between his abdomen and hers, and she lifted her hips enough to trap him there, teasing her and him both.  “Soon,” she sighed, eyes closed.  “Give me a minute.”

He brushed his lips over top her hairline, damp now with sweat.  “Feeling better?”

Rising over him as best she could, at the awkward angle, bathwater and bubbles still coating her skin, she reached her hand around his head to pull his mouth to hers, groaning at the taste of herself she still felt on his tongue.  “Oh Jon, you have no idea how good I feel now.”

“Glad to hear it.”