#ii Mansion of Madness

[answithvanzz]

Taco meets Suitcase

for my Mansion of Madness au (I was too lazy to draw balloon and Pickle’s gijinkas)

[apandainoveralls]

Random thing I made for my comic! This is the host, Zee

[bucknastysbabe]

hii, could you write smt abt aegon ii? 🥹 like kinda perv and loser stepbrother!aegon

YES I CAN! Hope you enjoy, getting back into my Aegon ways a bit! Xoxo

Just like that video! - Aegon II

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Loser perv step-bro Aegon, TW: alcohol abuse, underage (17) sexual moment, cocaine use, fat shaming, modern au, Aeg’s a shit but means well, Lannister reader, and they were step-siblings, lots of banter, pnv!sex, chubby!aeg, begging, family interactions, pseudo Incest and they get off on it, the panties were allowed to be kept

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @thought--bubble @valeskafics @dr-aegon @targaryen-madness @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes

You had no choice but to come home for college this summer, being a lame freshman. Next year you planned on getting a place off-campus with some of your tennis teammates. You would go back to the mansion this summer, reluctantly.

The stupid mansion your family had inherited over generations. Casterly Rock. Now it was infested with your stepmother's weird fucking offspring, minus Daeron. You liked Daeron. Regardless, the youngest sibling could not protect you from the advances of Alicent's eldest son Aegon.

He was harmless, really. He currently was in a 'gap year' between his junior and senior years. The term gap year was a nice overcoat of gloss. You knew he had a bad coke and alcohol problem and needed to get straightened out. You hadn't seen the fucker since he was absent for most of the holidays in a sober-living program.

You had been home for about three hours now, isolating in your room, watching Hulu, bored as fuck. You had spoken to your father and Alicent while the servants brought up your belongings. Alicent asked politely, "How was nationals? You know we would have come but Daeron was graduating."

"We got our ass kicked, I wish I was there to see Daeron too. Where's his highness?"

Jason grumbled, "Eating the house."

Alicent's face soured slightly at the mention of Aegon. She hummed, "He's just working his program and staying sober until he can finish up school. Mainly mopes around, it'll be good for him to have you here." You nodded, holding your tongue. Jason snorted and said, "Make him get the hell off his ass or something, play tennis, who knows. Dinner's at eight."

It would be a boring summer. Maybe you could call up the Reyne or Tarbeck boys for some fun. You didn't particularly want to hang around your peaked and washed-up fratboy loser of a stepbrother. You remember from when you were younger and excited, your father was marrying into the royal family!

You were met with a toddling Daeron, shy and dreamy Helaena, intense Aemond, and Aegon. Who promptly pointed at your chest and scoffed, "Totally not like the porno huh? That's lame." You stood in abject Lannister horror, planning on his immediate downfall.

Instead, you grew up under the shadows of your strange siblings. Aegon was 4 years your elder and acted like he was still in middle school. He ignored or made fun of his 'stuck-up stepsister.' You had a strange interaction when he was home on a holiday You had just turned seventeen and Aegon was a junior. He was pretty bad off when he first came in with Criston, the guard holding him up.

Aegon was rail-thin, drunk as fuck, and a crying mess. You exchanged a look with Aemond, the other brother making a face of disgust. He whispered to you, "Dumbass is about to get kicked out of school, he's on academic probation right now. Or might I mention his raging alcoholism and cocaine addiction?"

The pair of you watched him get dragged off to your parent's room. You mustered a weak reply, "I knew he was a drunk but not that damn bad." Alicent had put him on Antabuse when he was in high school and then deemed him alright to go to college.

That night you'd gone out with the Westerlings to Lannisport, you had a fake ID yourself. Coming back you managed to score Aegon some blow and a bottle. You don't know why you did. Maybe it was that desire to gain his pointless approval. You did it anyhow, smuggling it into your purse. Criston didn't bat an eye, he thought you were the golden child, soon-to-be salutatorian, and a tennis scholarship to a good school in Oldtown.

You crept down the hall, Aegon had the big room on the corner of the second floor. Knocking on the door, a haggard Aegon moaned, "What? I feel like shit! Fuck off, Cole! Jason! Whoever you are!"

You yell-whispered back, "No dumbass it's me, I have something."

The door opened to a much sicker Aeg, eyes red-rimmed, skinny body trembling under a thick blanket. You gasped "What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a virus?"

"No. Withdrawals. What did you bring me?" His violet eyes leered at your bodycon dress, making your cheeks heat up. He was handsome, stepbrother or fiend or whatever. You looked around and handed him the baggie and bottle. Aegon's eyes lit up and his smile brightened. He dragged you into his room, smelling of sweat and alcohol.

"Thank fuck, I needed this so bad, gods you are an angel."

You shrugged, standing there as he chugged some of the liquor, sighing in audible relief. He eyed you and asked, "You got a credit card?" Nodding in slight fear you rifled more in the purse and handed him the card. Aegon locked his door and got busy chopping up the coke. You pulled out your wine bottle and sat down, watching him drinking and shakily chopping up the white powder.

You ended up drunk as a skunk, Aegon absolutely cooked and giddy. He was making you laugh, chatting like you were a friend. Going so far as to inquire about your boring life. He seemed at ease, the dark cloud that would hang over Aegon had melted. The blonde looked at you with glassy eyes and hummed, "M'sorry for being a prick, you're not half bad."

"Sure, you're just happy I fueled your problem. Stuck up Lannister isn't that boring."

He laughed a bit, pretty teeth shining. Aegon asked, "Wanna watch this stupid movie? M'wired up right now." You gestured to the remnants of the coke and giggled, "I'd imagine, yeah come on then." You'd drunkenly climbed onto his huge bed, Aegon plopping on the other side, typing the movie into the big ass television.

It was funny, but somewhere along the way, Aegon had inched his way toward you. You had moved closer to him, snuggling into his side. The voice of reason was screeching in your head. Your stepbrother turned his face to yours, murmuring, "You're so fucking pretty you know that? I don't care how fucked up that is, I am fucked up."

You surged forward to meet his plump lips, Aegon's hand holding your cheek as he kissed you. He laughed darkly, nipping at your lip and sliding in a tongue. As the liplock grew more heated- spit-slick lips and tongues sliding against each other, Aegon rolled his frame atop yours, settling between your spread legs. Your dress rucked up to your panties from the movement, drawing a helpless whine from your throat.

This was disgusting, wrong, awful.

You arched into his touches on your hips, groaning into his mouth as you sensually kissed him, growing messier by the second. Aegon rutted a bit against your pussy, softly moaning and squeezing your waist. He murmured in your ear, "Mm, I know you're all wet for me, stepsis." Skinny fingers crawled to the edge of your underwear.

A deep pang of fear struck you, suddenly withdrawing and backing out of Aegon's amorous embrace. You shook your head, heart beating too fast, shame and guilt pounding your head in. The platinum-haired man stared in confusion, stuttering, "W-What the fuck? Are you okay? Hey!"

You shook your head, chest too tight to speak. grabbing the remnants of your debauchery you skittered out of his room, silent tears running down your face. You felt weird, you drew a line in the sand that would not wash away. With fucking Aegon. You could hit yourself.

The rest of the days he was icy. Icy all the way until he was going into rehab and further treatment. You didn't dwell on the experience until now, eyes darting towards his room. You would have to see him eventually. Passing by his door all you could hear was video game noises.

You locked the door to your room, a bit of anxiety peeping through. For the seven's sake, you were an adult now! You would be a polite sibling, Aegon was obviously sick at the time and trying to get well. He'd written you an apology from his sober living place and you wrote back a brief acceptance and gave well wishes. So it couldn't be that bad?

You'd take a nap and deal with your insane family later.

Sitting down at the dinner table, the normal-sized one, you chatted with your mother and Criston about tennis. Jason prepped some sort of penne dish with a salad. The sound of a chair being scooted back alerted everyone to another presence. It was Aegon. He murmured a quiet, "Hey. Nice to see you sis, sorry 'bout nationals."

"Thanks Aegon, how are you doing? Super proud of you."

You tried not to stare at your stepbrother but he had...changed. His hair had grown out to shoulder length and he'd put on weight. Nothing terrible, but it had to range somewhere in 50 pounds (23kg). The big sweatshirt and too-small joggers didn't quite help his case either.

"Yeah, it's not bad, ready to get back to school or do something before I go crazy."

Jason snarked, "A job is always a good idea huh?"

The awkward silence was permeated by an excited Daeron hugging you, still sweaty from soccer practice. You mock gagged and smiled at the little brother, batting him away. Criston hummed, "Dare's already started practicing at King's Landing U." You grinned, "Hell yeah! I'll come boo you when you play Oldtown!"

Things fell into a familiar rhythm besides Aegon scarfing his food up and excusing himself. Alicent called after him, "Where are you going, honey? Come visit with us." Aegon sighed, "I have a headache, sorry."

Your dad shook his dark blonde hair, rolling green eyes. He scoffed, "All Aegon does is eat and play video games. He'll be a fucking cow sooner or later."

You found yourself speaking up, "Would you rather have him chubby and sober or skinny and tweaked out Dad?"

Jason forked some pasta in his mouth, shaking his head. Criston broke the next stage of awkward silence. "Hey, he's almost at a year now. I'd never think I would see the day." Daeron nodded along. Dinner resumed to normal.

You had helped your father clean up, the conversation stunted and awkward. Lannister men had a tendency to never understand a woman, just a family thing. Some of your friends had fathers who didn't suck. Alicent tried and Criston was the occasionally cool uncle. Even if he wasn't related to any of you, just something that came along with being royal.

You spent some more time playing smash bros with Daeron, laughing and catching up after much needed time. It was late and you glanced at your phone. Marq Tarbeck had texted you back. You ignored it, yawning, "Alright Dare, I think it's time to hit the sack." His sleepy purple eyes seemed to agree as he got up, muttering about 'getting his nasty ass in the shower.'

Daeron split ways with you, going to his room nearby, and you up and across the mansion. Your room was also on the second floor- there was no way but to pass Aegon's room. Part of you wanted to check on him, it seemed like your father was hard on him. The other half said fuck it, he doesn't need to be babied. Still, you paused at his door, listening to the vague background noise of the television.

"F-fucking, god, baby," he groaned, muffled.

Your eyes widened in shock. A drawn out moan of your name made you freeze. Aegon rambled, "Knew you'd be so cute taking my dick stepsis. Gods!" His deep voice made you tremble slightly. Your imagination painted an image of Aeg spread out, fisting his cock, thickened thighs flexing. His plump lips would be extra swollen, those cute chubby cheeks blotchy.

Oh Gods. You couldn't. He was having a private moment and you stood outside his door like a weirdo. Then your phone began to ring. A loud buzzing as you frantically switched it off, fucking Tarbeck! With a pitiful whine you tried to book it away to your room.

"Get your ass back here!" came Aegon's whisper-yell.

You paused, hand over your mouth. Fucking fuck, you thought.

"C'mon, get over here, I heard you."

You dramatically groaned and shuffled to Aegon's doorway, eyes downcast, blushing heavily. A finger tilted your chin up, you reluctantly looking at his smug face. Aegon hummed, "Did you want a look-see or just to listen? You're just slumming it now huh? No Reynes or Tarbecks?"

You gritted out, "I was going to check on you, but then I heard my name. Of course I'd be curious to why you were moaning it."

Aegon rolled his eyes, scoffing, "So. Jig's up. I stole your pretty little lace panties to fuck too. Since I'm a man of honesty now."

Arousal laced up your stomach, pussy throbbing at the actual desperation this fucker was giving off. You panted a bit, shouldering him aside. Your panties were indeed on the bed, thoroughly used. Gaping at Aegon he shrugged, basking in the debauchery. Guess being sober didn't change him from being a little pervert.

You muttered, "I can't believe you."

"I tried to fuck you did I not? I remember how eager you were."

Glancing at his lidded eyes and frankly punchable face you kissed the man, gripping at his oversized sweatshirt. Aegon seemed surprised, inhaling sharply before grabbing your ass and returning the kiss with vigor. He murmured, "You aren't running away- hah- this time." He squeezed your ass hard, lips intense against yours.

Pressing yourself to his soft belly he stiffened a bit, apoligizing, "M'not very in shape, too many sweets, cock's the same." You shrugged, pulling his heavier frame atop your own, a thick thigh slotted between your sinewy legs. He groaned softly, hands pulling at your shirt impatiently.

He grunted while shucking off his sweatshirt, elbow about to take you out. You yelped and ducked, Aegon guffawing. "Sorry?" He chuckled. Shaking your head you pulled on his longer hair and resumed the earlier attentions. The blondie rudely unsnapped your bra, shoving you up the bed at the same time.

Pulling away with a snarl you exclaimed "Fucking hell are you going to manhandle me around the bed or kiss me?"

Aegon deadpanned, "Wanna see you naked. Going to do that for me this time? Nice tits by the way, I can say it's like the porno now."

You growled and shoved down your shorts and underwear, somehow turned on by his shithead attitude and stupid grin. Pointing at him you hissed, "Your turn. Those briefs looking a little tight anyways." Aegon snorted, laughing at you again while shimmying his ill-fitting briefs off. His violet eyes greedily roved over you, the shameless perv.

"Happy Lady Lannister?" He asked while gesturing to his hard cock.

"Much better, get over here."

Aegon pulled you by the legs, thick waist keeping your thighs spread, fat cock rudely shoved flush against your embarrasingly wet pussy. He pressed teasing little kisses across your throat, grasping hands all over your tits and ass. You mewled- rutting a bit against him, utterly pinned by his heavier weight.

"Gods- Aegon, you- gods!" you wheedled, shaky hands digging into his shoulders, slipping down to his plush hips and squeezing. He moaned and began to slide against your slit, eyes rolling erotically. Aegon rasped, "Been so fucking long- know you're tighter than I ever dreamed of. Little cocktease."

He took your mouth again, a possessive hand grabbing your chin, lips and tongue domineering and invasive. You were quickly becoming a puddle, whining as you tried to keep up, unable to focus as the bulbous tip of Aegon's thick cock jerked against your needy clit. Your stepbrother groaned raggedly, "Lion? Mewling kitten huh baby sis?" You whined again, jerking against him to claw at his shoulder.

"That's it, lemme see you try."

You huffed in frustration, nipping Aegon's puffy lips, trying to rut back against him. He laughed into your mouth, rough hands planting on your tits, thumbs swiping across your peaked nipples. You cried out into his warm mouth, shivering as Aegon alternated between dizzying little circles with the pad of his thumb or pinching and pulling roughly.

"Ah, mmm, fuck, fuck you, get- get a condom- oh my gods!"

Aegon groaned in annoyance. "We're literally rich, just go get a plan B."

"Get your lazy ass up and grab it!"

"Sound just like your father, gonna call me fat next?"

You stared at him, waiting. Aegon made a whole deal about heaving himself up and ungainly rolling to his side table, rifling through. "You're not even fat, sure are acting like it though, huffing about nothing," you replied. The prince returned with a condom, tearing the packet with his teeth. As he rolled it on the buffoon asked "Is it that bad? Be honest. The weight, I mean."

Alicent had made some weird fucking kids. You glanced around Aegon's body. He looked better than the last time you fooled around, actually healthy in appearence. The man took the brunt around his midsection, wide striped hips and a soft pooch. It appeared there was a slim layer of softness around his thighs, arms, and face. He seemed nervous now, that creeping insecurity.

"You look good. Healthier than being a skeleton. I don't see an issue. Maybe dress a bit snappier?"

He smirked, blushing and cursing, "Oh fuck off, I guess if you deem it alright. Let's fuck, yeah?"

You nodded with a grin, sealing your lips onto his own, wrapping your thighs around him tight. Both of you moaned as he slipped in, stretching your tight pussy out. Gods it felt good, the girth dragging against your sensitive spots. His hips stuttered a bit, hands clamping on your hips as he swore. You goaded Aeg on, digging your heels into his ass and whining his name.

Aegon pecked your mouth one more time, tucking his face into your neck, thighs heavily smacking your hips as he fucked. You yelped at the sudden movements, shivering in delight. Aegon grunted on every thrust, gasping against your neck before sinking his teeth in to grace your delicate skin.

You could do nothing but take his relentless bullying of your sensitive hole, thick tip drilling your sweet spot as he changed angles with a sharp inhale. Goosebumps littered your skin, sweat building between the pair of you. Your whines and his groans made a lurid cacophony, the slapping of flesh and the squelch of your own cunt.

Aegon panted, "Such a tight fuckin' pussy, made for me, s'good."

You arched feebly into his soft stomach, tits rubbing against his own. All you could manage was crying Aegon's name, tightening around him. You begged "Please, Aeg, touch me, touch me please, m'gonna cummm!" He growled in reflex, hips jerking particularly rough into the soft roof of your pussy.

"Yeah baby? Need your clit rubbed so you can come all over my dick? Beg some more, want you to mean it."

He slapped your thigh, smirking with lust blown pupils. Your eyebrows had knit together, the burning coil of ecstasy tightening into a ball. You just really really really needed Aegon to play with your clit. In the most embarrassing mewl you begged again. "Aeeegon, please! It fucking hurts, m'so swollen for you, please stepbrother, lemme cum, it-it'll feel so good!"

You sobbed in frustration, Aegon rumbling, "Mhm, I gotcha, needy little slut for a step sister. Fuck, you're gonna make me blow." His thumb and forefinger pinched and rubbed your flushed bundle of nerves, your stepbrother slapping a hand down on your wailing mouth. His hips stuttered, eyes rolled again as you clamped down on his twitching cock.

He babbled something, frantically swiping your nub until you released in a gush of slick, shivering from head to toe. Aegon made a gutted noise, his full weight baring down as he sloppily fucked himself out, groaning in near agony. He stiffened and whimpered your name, lips hanging agape as his cock emptied into the condom. Your pussy throbbed and twitched as you stared at the ceiling, hand in Aegon's platinum hair.

He groaned softly, "Ffffucking hell Lannister, you little demon."

Aegon groaned and slid out, laying on his back, pudgy belly heaving as he gathered some breath. You were just as limp, trying to formulate a sentence. Aegon tied off the condom and haphazardly threw it into a trash bin. You wrinkled your nose but managed to make the sluggish movements into his soft side. He was much more cuddly with the extra weight and post-orgasm haze.

Aegon wrapped a lazy arm around you, lips slightly curled up. He hummed, "You aren't going to run this time are you?"

"No. I don't think I will. We can tell Dad we're getting you lots of exercise now huh?"

"Just like the porno."

"Shut up."

[monimccoythings]

Mending each other's hearts II

Jesus, this took forever. I'm having so much fun writing this, for real. However I think I'll have to do a third part because GOSH do I love angstiness and suffering. One thing I also love is Jean being a wingman and such a cool friend I want to work more with that.

tw: logan is a caveman and a brute, and possibly emotionally constipated, really; a bit angsty.

I have no idea about clubs, I just googled New York clubs and picked the coolest looking.

tags: @kathieycarrerarosshley (I'm not sure if there's anybody else, sorry, I don't usually check the notes :()

Part I │ Part II (You're here!!)

He basically jumped down the stairs, nearly crashing into several innocent students. Like Hell he was going to allow you to do that to yourself. You were not some cheap whore who did one-night-stands. You were so sweet, so innocent, that the thought of having anyone touch you inappropriately, rubbing themselves against your body, tainting you with their dirty hands made his stomach churn and his claws start to come out.

Despite running as if the literal Devil was chasing him, all his efforts were for nothing, because when he barged through the front doors of the mansion he could already hear the gears of your car speeding up, miles away. Fuck, he was too late; but maybe, if he traced your scent, if he went now to his motorbike he may be able to catch you and stop this madness. As he turned around, he narrowly avoided his keys being psychically thrown towards him. Jean looked at him with a determined look on her face.

“Lavo, go. NOW.” Her voice commanded no objection, and for once, he would happily obey orders.

He usually was very careful with his motorbike, an old lady deserved to be treated with respect, but not tonight, there was not a second to lose. Muttering a quiet apology to his dear ride, he sped off towards the city, silently praying to a god he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t done anything you would regret later.

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You felt a sense of excitement settle in your lower belly. Look at you, a grown adult, dressing up all cute and going on your own adventures in the Big Apple, you felt like you were going to squeal like a little girl, either that or you needed to stop the car and puke.

You knew exactly where to go, where the good stuff would be; under normal conditions you wouldn’t be allowed in, so that’s why you were planning to use your powers to sneak in. Maybe you were just some plain teacher at a private school for mutants but that didn’t mean you didn’t have tricks up your sleeve.

A sudden memory of the real reason this was all about, made your heart twist with ache and longing. The memory of Logan and Jean in that empty classroom would be forever engraved inside your mind, a confirmation that no matter what you did, you would never be enough. No. You mentally slapped yourself. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself like that. The only thing invisible about you were your powers. Tonight, you were going to feel beautiful, appreciated, and most importantly, desired. A pang of anxiety hitted you, what if nobody notices? The real possibility of being made into a fool once again was scary and nearly made you turn away and return home with your tail between your legs. They will. Maybe it was that part of you that had been kicked long enough talking, you would never know, but it gave you enough confidence to keep going.

You made sure to park your car as far as you could, you didn’t want anything to associate you with that little stunt you were about to pull. You casually walked into a nearby alleyway to turn yourself invisible, the last thing this night needed was a public scandal. 

There was truly something magical about walking down the street while you were invisible, it made you feel confident and powerful. Nobody could harm you if they didn’t know you were there. You watched couples pass by pampering each other, a group of drunk college freshmans trying their best to walk in a straight line, you could observe every single detail on them without feeling like a creep. Sometimes you wondered why you didn't have your mutation on at all times. It certainly would make your life easier.

Before you knew it, you had already arrived at your destination. Taking advantage of some rich boy skipping line, you glued yourself to his back and entered, making a little squeal that startled the poor security guard.

The place took your breath away.

Lavo was one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Manhattan. One night there (paying the entrance and restaurant, of course) would probably cost you half your salary. You knew Charles could afford it, but you weren’t going to ask him to bill the start of your party girl era.

A sudden realization left you filled with embarrassment; you had entered, now what. In a desperate way to fit in, you decided that the most suitable course of action would be to look for a place to turn visible again and go for a drink.

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Logan lost count of how many traffic laws he broke that night, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to reach you. Each time he imagined a worse scenario that somehow always ended with you in the arms of another man, enjoying his caresses and kisses. He panicked, making his grip on the handlebar painfully tighten. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, and he also didn’t know what he would do if he found you with a suitor.

He wasn’t impressed at all by the imposing building, and he was less impressed by the regulars. Bunch of spoiled rich brats, if someone asks him.

The security guard wasn’t in the mood to let him in and less while looking like that, but since he didn’t have time nor the patience to deal with any form of bullshit, he opted to launch him across the street with a single punch instead of pulling out his claws, leaving the crowd completely silent.

The inside was as bad as the outside, or even worse. He didn’t like that place at all, too many people, too much noise and too many smells. It overwhelmed him. How the fuck was he supposed to find you there. He showed his way among the crowd, ignoring the grunts and complaints from the people surrounding him, fuck them all. His heightened senses were practically screaming at him to go wild and ravage the place until he got you.

His hunting instincts told him to look for some dark corner where he could keep a close watch on the entire club, it’d be easier, and quieter for him. He could do without all that modern music drilling his ears. Some goddamned peace and tranquility would help him focus.

He didn’t need to wait for long until his eyes settled on you. On the dancefloor, with a glass in your hand, and a man glued to your back with his lips dangerously close to your neck.

Logan saw red.

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As you took a sip of your grasshopper, you wondered why you had been worried in the first place. Just one look at how that dress hugged your ass and you had several men eating from your palm. You had to confess that even if it flattered you, it was a bit suffocating having that much attention all of a sudden.

The man you had picked for the night, Kelsey? Kevin?, you hadn't heard it well with the lous music, was actually kinda nice. Out of all of the men that surrounded you he had been the only one to actually try to start some friendly conversation before hitting on you. That sweet attempt just earned him some brownie points. That and that body which seemed to have been sculpted by the gods. Damn, what did they feed him?. His hands moved closely to your hips, and you couldn’t help but wish those arms that held you were bigger, and hairier. You shook your head. Focus on the Adonis right behind you. The one who was going to make you feel so good tonight. You could already imagine it.

But fantasies were just that. Fantasies.

An altercation snapped you out of your daydream. Someone was pushing his way quite violently towards the dancefloor, and by the sound of those screams of protest he wasn’t being very gentle.

The blood froze in your veins when you saw who was approaching. No. How. Why. Millions of questions ran through your mind, your body screaming at you to run, but you were paralyzed with fear.

You had never seen that look on Logan.

Feral.

Wild.

Monster.

You had heard people describe him with those words since the very first day you had met him. Coming from both humans and mutants. You had never paid them any attention, being so confident in knowing that despite his gruff exterior, inside there was hidden a golden heart just as big as his muscles. But now you were considering that despite knowing that, maybe the others had some point in their arguments.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

He was getting closer. Unconsciously, you put yourself in front of your dancing partner, despite knowing that whatever little mutant trick you had was useless against The Wolverine’s blind fury. Yet, you weren’t going to let some innocent civilian get hurt because your friend was pissed at you for whatever stupid reason.

His eyes were unfocused, darting from one person to the other like a wild animal. You weren’t sure if he was able to see you at all.

“Logan. What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady, knowing that when he got like this, anything could really set him off and then all Hell would break loose. He grunted and finally looked at you. Pupils dilating when he got a better look of you in that dress.

“Home. Now.” Among all the noise it was hard to understand him, but whatever he’d said you were sure it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. It didn't help that those words resembled more growls than actual speech.

Your new friend, supposedly Kevin, tried to step forward, foolishly thinking he had a chance against one of the most vicious mutants to ever exist. Logan looked at him with barely restrained rage, breathing heavily. His stance, along with the strength the air came out of his nostrils reminded you of a bull ready to attack. You started fearing the worst.

Within a blink, Logan had grabbed your arm and was forcefully dragging you towards the emergency exit. You slammed your heels against the floor, trying to keep you grounded in your spot, but that only seemed to make him angrier. Quickly reaching down, he scooped you up and carried you over his broad shoulder, making you drop your drink and leaving you mortified to the point of nearly accidentally outing yourself as a mutant in a room full of people.

After what felt like the longest time of your lfe, you two made it outside that place and after several kicks and threats, he finally put you down in an alleyway where all the shame that filled you, all the embarrassment, turned into rage.

Why.

Why couldn't he let you have this?

Why wouldn’t he allow you to move on?

Why did he have to keep breaking your heart over and over again? Hadn’t you suffered enough?

You screamed at him, you pushed him and insulted him until your voice became hoarse. The force of your screams were drowned by the sound of an incoming storm. And he just stood there, taking it all in stride, just looking at you, like a marble statue. A less wise person would have thought he was bored, just waiting for you to scream your heart out and finish your tantrum. But his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that always made you melt, were filled with emotion. Could be guilt, could be pain, could be grief, they were passing far too quickly for you to notice.

Yet he still didn’t say anything which only fueled your anger. The nerve of him, the fucking audacity. You felt mocked, humiliated, the laughingstock of Xavier’s School; a silly woman in her early thirties with a pathetic little girl crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of the day.

You slapped him as hard as you could.

Probably not the smartest thing given his bones were made of the toughest metal to ever exist which you instantly felt when your hand made contact with his cheek. You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the agonizing scream of pain that was crawling up your throat to get out.

That made him react, his expression changing into one of concern. He tried to say something, move closer to you and check your hand, but you stepped back, your back pressed against the brick wall.

Holding your injured hand with your other, you lowered your head. Rain started pouring on you both, drenching your carefully groomed hair and wiping all that expensive makeup away. But at least it would hide the tears that fell freely though your cheeks. 

What a mess you were, drenched like a wet cat, with your makeup ruined and sobbing while the man of your dreams just watched you with pity. You should leave and lock yourself in your room. Turning invisible again, you tried to make your exit towards your car, knowing it would be a long walk full of cries and sobs, but his arm blocked you, damn that sharp sense of smell. you turned around and his other arm blocked you again, effectively trapping you between himself and the wall.

Suddenly you found yourself very tired, of his games, of being screwed over and over again, of your emotional burst. You just wanted to go home, take a bath, and sleep. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Please. I want to go home.” There must have been something in your voice so broken that caused him to immediately take action. Logan suddenly had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself, after that stunt he pulled off at the club, however you couldn’t care less right now. Muttering a quick ‘yeah’ he slowly pulled away from you, and awkwardly stepped back.

Not being used to walking on heels, you would have fell face first against the ground, putting the icing on the cake of that terrible night, had not a pair of strong arms caught you and lifted you into a bridal carry.

Not so long ago, you would have been all over the moon at this gesture. Logan Howlett, the hunk of the X-Mansion, carrying you like a princess. Yeah, the old you would have loved that.

Right now you were feeling too emotionally numb to care. Even when his arms pulled you closer to his chest, even when he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head.

You just couldn’t feel anything.

[mrs5sn0w]

Serenade of Shadows

I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak -> IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Decent

Series Masterlist

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

warnings: Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers

Reader's surname : Flare

Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas

Synopsis: In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.

The air was thick with unspoken tension as the First Lady, confronted President Snow about the revelation made by Mrs. Crane. The coming days brought a heavy shift in the Capitol's political landscape as she embarked on her plan to modify the Hunger Games and expose the Crane couple's illicit dealings.

---

The preparations for the 16th annual Hunger Games were in full swing, and the first lady was at the forefront, orchestrating the changes she envisioned.

The air in the control room hummed with anticipation as she outlined her modifications to the Game Makers.

"I want these Games to be more intense, more unpredictable. We need to give the districts a show they'll never forget,"

she asserted, her eyes ablaze with a newfound determination.

The head Gamemaker, Octavius, raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement. "Very well, Mrs Snow. We'll implement your changes."

As the arena was transformed into a nightmarish landscape, her influence was evident in every diabolical detail. The once calculated brutality of the Hunger Games took a macabre turn under her direction.

The night before the Games, the Capitol gathered for the traditional pre-Games banquet. She was adorned in a dress that mirrored the ominous atmosphere she had cultivated, took the stage. The cheers from the Capitol citizens echoed through the grand hall as she began her speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed citizens of the Capitol, thank you for joining me tonight. As your First Lady, I have taken it upon myself to enhance the grand tradition of the Hunger Games. This year, you will witness a spectacle like never before. I've modified the Games to push the limits of survival and test the resilience of our tributes. May the odds be ever in their favor."

The applause that followed was thunderous, but Coriolanus Snow, watching from the shadows, felt a pang of unease. He had underestimated the extent to which she would go to assert her influence.

---

The night after her speech and the modifications to the Hunger Games, tension hung in the air of the Presidential Mansion. Coriolanus Snow, unable to contain his frustration and anger, confronted her in their private chambers. The conversation quickly escalated into a heated argument.

Coriolanus, his voice laced with disdain, accused her,

"You've turned the Games into a bloodbath ! What were you thinking ?"

She was undeterred as she met his gaze with determination.

"I'm doing what needs to be done, Coriolanus. This is the Capitol's game, and I'm playing it better than anyone expected."

He scoffed,

"Playing it? You're reveling in the bloodshed! You think this is power? This is madness!"

"Madness or not, it's the reality of our world," she retorted, her words a counterpunch to his condemnation.

Coriolanus, fueled by frustration and a sense of superiority, underestimated her resolve.

"You're nothing more than a pawn in this game. Your modifications won't change a thing. You're not capable of understanding the true nature of power."

She was stung by his words but shot back, "You underestimate me, Coriolanus. I understand power better than you ever will. This," she gestured to the opulence surrounding them, "is just a façade. True power lies in the ability to shape the narrative, to control the minds of the Capitol."

His laughter was mocking. "You think you can control anything? You're a naive idealist. Your little modifications won't change a thing. The Capitol will continue to thrive, and you'll be nothing more than a forgotten First Lady."

The words cut deep, and she, despite her resolve, felt the sting of his disdain. Yet, she refused to back down.

"You may think I'm naive, but I'm not blind. I see the rot within the Capitol, and I refuse to be a silent spectator. I will change things, with or without your approval."

Coriolanus, unyielding, dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"Change? You don't even understand the concept. This is the way things have always been, and this is the way they'll always be. Your feeble attempts at change are nothing more than a momentary disturbance."

In the midst of their heated argument, she was undeterred by Coriolanus Snow's verbal assault as she seized a moment to confront him about his own role in the brutality of the Hunger Games.

"Why are you so pressed, Coriolanus? Isn't this what you wanted?" her voice, though tinged with anger, carried a genuine curiosity.

Coriolanus, momentarily taken aback by her question, retorted,

"I wanted control, not chaos! There's a difference between maintaining order and descending into senseless brutality."

She countered, her tone cutting through the tension,

"But you've always admired the Games for their brutality, haven't you? You've reveled in the suffering of others. This is merely an extension of your own desires."

Coriolanus, unwilling to admit his own culpability, deflected,

"This isn't about me. This is about the Capitol, about preserving our way of life."

Her gaze bore into him, her eyes challenging his evasion, she scoffed.

"No, Coriolanus, this is about you. You've always been fascinated by the Games, by the power it gives you. You can't distance yourself from the very brutality you championed."

A tense silence settled between them as Coriolanus struggled to find a response. While she refused to back down, she continued,

"You can't play the victim now. You wanted a spectacle, and that's precisely what I'm giving the Capitol. You can't stand the reality of your own desires staring back at you."

Coriolanus, his composure slipping, snapped,

"This isn't what I wanted. You've taken it too far. You're jeopardizing everything."

"Jeopardizing what, Coriolanus?" she questioned, a note of frustration in her voice.

"The illusion of control? The carefully constructed façade of Capitol ideals? You can't blame me for embracing the very darkness you've always admired."

Their verbal sparring continued, each accusation and retort revealing the cracks in their marriage. The grandeur of the Presidential Mansion became a witness to the unraveling of a relationship built on political convenience and masked desires.

In that charged moment, Coriolanus Snow found himself confronted not just by the changes in the Hunger Games but by the undeniable truth of his own desires. The power he had sought now manifested in a form that challenged even his own convictions. His wife, unapologetic in her pursuit of change, stood as a reflection of the consequences of the very brutality he had championed. The intricacies of their relationship, once carefully hidden behind political maneuvers, were laid bare in the battlefield of their private chambers.

The argument reached its climax as her frustration collided with Coriolanus's arrogance. Hurtful words were exchanged, each sentence a dagger that severed the fragile threads holding their marriage together. The room echoed with the intensity of their discord.

"You're incapable of understanding anything beyond your thirst for power," Coriolanus sneered.

Her eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and hurt, shot back,

"And you're incapable of seeing anything beyond your own reflection. This marriage is nothing more than a political transaction to you."

The wounds of their verbal sparring ran deep, leaving a chasm between them that seemed insurmountable. The realization that they were on opposing sides of a battle, not just politically but emotionally, cast a shadow over the grandeur of the Presidential Mansion.

---

The Hunger Games arena became a grotesque stage where the First lady, his unexpected tether to humanity, faced an imminent, brutal demise.

In the grim arena, her delicate frame seemed fragile against the brutal backdrop. The poison, a sinister creation of Coriolanus Snow, introduced an insidious element to the already perilous games.

Coriolanus Snow's heart clenched as he watched her lift the poisoned chalice to her lips in the arena. A chilling fear gripped him, and he couldn't contain his desperation.

"No, don't drink it!" he pleaded, his voice echoing unheard in the arena's cruel expanse.

too late.

As she consumed the toxic drink, the effect was swift, a cruel dance of life slipping away.

The poison's tendrils took hold, and a cascade of reactions unfolded within her. A subtle tremor betrayed the onset of its deadly influence. Her gaze, once vibrant with determination, now flickered like a fading ember. The poison worked its way through her, a silent assassin claiming its victim.

Unaware of the treacherous nature of the drink, she looked toward him, a trusting gaze that stabbed him with guilt.

"Coryo, what is this?"

In that moment, fear etched lines on his face as he struggled to find words.

"It's poisoned, y/n. Drop it ! Please!"

A flicker of realization crossed her eyes, and the glass slipped from her trembling hands, crashing to the ground. The poison, however, had already claimed its place in her system, and an unspoken horror hung in the air

Every step she took became a struggle, the arena's terrain now a treacherous adversary. The poison's cruel progression manifested in her weakening limbs, each movement a testament to the inescapable grip of impending doom.

The tributes, initially mere pawns in the Capitol's game, sensed the shift in dynamics. As she faltered, they closed in like vultures, seizing the opportunity presented by her deteriorating state. The once defiant first lady, now weakened by the poison's relentless advance, faced the impending threat of the tributes' brutality.

In the cruel ballet of the arena, her demise unfolded with a tragic inevitability. The poison, a manifestation of Coriolanus Snow's malevolence, became the instrument of her tragic end,

His wife, weakened by the poison's relentless advance, managed a feeble smile while stuttering,

"do you hate me that bad ?"

"I didn't want this"

"I just wanted....the Coryo i knew back" she gently caressed his cheek while blood came out from her mouth, coughing the crimson red liquid out.

His heart ached.

The arena, once a grand stage for political machinations, now bore witness to a personal tragedy. In that moment of shared terror, the boundaries of power dissolved, leaving behind only the raw emotions of a man who had unwittingly set in motion the demise of the woman he had never intended to love.

Her skin grew colder beneath his touch, each passing moment stealing away the warmth he had come to associate with her. The vibrant life that animated her seemed to wane, replaced by an unsettling chill that permeated the very air.

His fingers, once intertwined with hers, now registered a subtle but undeniable drop in temperature.

He could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat slowing, each thud echoing a painful countdown. The heartbeat, once a steady cadence that resonated with life, now played a haunting melody of departure. It was as if time itself conspired against him, dragging out the inevitable moment of separation.

In that dream-induced reality, the fear of losing her intensified with every passing moment, a visceral force that gripped him in its merciless jaws. It wasn’t just the loss of a piece on the Capitol’s chessboard; it was the unraveling of a connection he had fiercely denied.

In the disorienting aftermath of Coriolanus Snow's harrowing nightmare, the dimly lit room bore witness to the lingering echoes of his distress. The air was thick with tension as he gasped for breath, still caught in the clutches of the haunting visions that had unfolded within the recesses of his dreams.

Coriolanus Snow woke with a start, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. The remnants of the dream lingered, casting a shadow over the reality of the dimly lit room.

His breaths were ragged, and he could feel the wet trails of tears on his cheeks. In the disorienting transition between the nightmare and wakefulness, he whispered to himself,

“y/n…”

The room seemed to close in on him, the weight of the dream still clinging to his consciousness. He wiped away the lingering tears, the vulnerability of the nightmare etched in his expression.

As he gathered himself, the echoes of her imagined demise reverberated in his mind. He couldn’t shake the visceral emotions, and the tears that escaped his eyes were a testament to the tumult within.

“Why does it hurt so much?” he murmured, a question left hanging in the air, unanswered.

Sensing his palpable distress, she rose from her position on the sofa, sprang into action. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied her swift movements across the room. Her usually composed demeanor gave way to urgency, her eyes reflecting concern as she approached him.

"Coryo," she called out softly, her voice a soothing cadence cutting through the lingering echoes of the nightmare. Her measured steps brought her to his side, where she knelt down with a graceful ease, a silhouette against the dimly lit room.

Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on his trembling shoulder, a gesture of reassurance and comfort. The warmth of her touch aimed to ground him in the reality that surrounded them, a stark contrast to the surreal horrors he had experienced in the dream.

"It's just a dream," she murmured, her voice a delicate melody attempting to calm the tempest within him. Her words were spoken with a tenderness that hoped to dissolve the lingering fear that had wrapped itself around his consciousness.

Coriolanus, still caught between the realms of dream and wakefulness, turned his gaze toward her. The dim light accentuated the concern etched on her face, the lines of worry contrasting with the usually composed features.

"I saw you die in the arena," he confessed, the vulnerability in his voice revealing a facet of himself he rarely exposed. The weight of the nightmare clung to him like a shroud, and she, perceptive to his unspoken turmoil, continued to provide solace.

Her eyes, pools of understanding, met his, and she whispered,

"It wasn't real. I'm right here."

With a graceful movement, she enveloped him in a comforting embrace, her arms a sanctuary against the residual fear that lingered in the air.

As she held him, the room became a haven, shielded from the phantoms of the nightmare. her touch was a balm, an anchor grounding him in the present.

The soothing repetition of her words became a mantra, gradually dispelling the haunting images that had plagued his subconscious.

Coriolanus, his voice a mixture of relief and lingering unease, responded,

"I don't know why it scared me so much. It felt too real, I hate you but I'm scared of losing you."

Her embrace tightened as she whispered,

"Fear doesn't always make sense. I'm here with you, safe and sound. The nightmare can't hurt you."

He nodded, the weight of the nightmare gradually lifting as her words sank in.

"I just... I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," he admitted, the admission hanging in the air.

"Then is it so hard to love me back?" she uttered, the words hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. Coriolanus, taken aback, felt a pang of discomfort. The question pierced through the layers of his stoicism, and for a moment, the vulnerability he rarely displayed surfaced.

His gaze, usually unwavering, flickered with uncertainty. The weight of her inquiry lingered, and as she held him in that fragile moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his response.

She did not get a response from him but Snow began to confront a truth he had fervently avoided—the fear of losing the woman who had become an unintended anchor to his existence. As she held him, the barriers that had once defined their relationship crumbled, and the night unfolded with a raw honesty.

In that vulnerable moment, Coriolanus Snow, usually composed and stoic, let down his defenses. As he kissed his wife, there was a rawness to the emotion—an unspoken language that surpassed the political complexities of their relationship.

His lips, once reserved, now conveyed a longing that echoed the fears and vulnerabilities stirred by the haunting nightmare. The kiss held a passion that spoke of a connection beyond the Capitol's facade, an unexpected bridge between two souls navigating the intricate dance of power.

She who felt the intensity of his kiss, reciprocated with a tenderness that transcended the lingering unease. The dimly lit room bore witness to this unspoken exchange, where the weight of nightmares was replaced by the warmth of a shared moment—a moment that hinted at the complexities of love and longing in the tumultuous world they inhabited.

The lingering echoes of the nightmare were replaced by the warmth of genuine emotions, as if the haunting specter had unintentionally ushered in a new chapter in their shared existence, marked by the scars of anguish and the fragile threads of a newfound connection.

yet, she remained oblivious whether he would end up loving her or not.

Taglist : @randomgurl2326 @princessloveweird @rosewine-5 @cookielovesbook-akie @qoopeeya @corpsebridenightmare @bl0ndelilac @unclecrunkle @puredreamagination @lofhdfn

[furybymoonlight]

See Me (Now) - Part III [FINAL]

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x OC/Reader

Warning/Genre: NSFW! Smut, Age Gap (3 years), Fluff, Angst, friends to lovers

Part I

Part II

***

“Drink.”

“I already did.”

She said, puzzled.

“Drink more, gonna have to make sure you’re perfectly sober and hydrated when I fuck you senseless at last.”

***

It was one in the morning. The streets of Liverpool were mostly empty as Trent’s G-Wagon made its way through the city. The man had just spoken to her once, in the beginning of their drive, to make sure that she’s using her seatbelt and that she’s not cold. He also didn’t play any music to fill the silence, which gave her a hint into his state of mind. He never drove in silence, except when he’s really tense or angry, or worse, both. It didn’t help that even in that situation, her body was still buzzing, not with alcohol, but a highly sexual charge, courtesy of the driver of the car.

Had they just done…whatever the hell it was? It still hadn’t fully registered in her mind, but she guessed it was real, because her lips were swollen, and her body was still burning. She had also now become hyperaware of everything about him, like the way he effortlessly steered the wheel with one hand, the hand that has touched her in ways that she had never even imagined, or how even in the dark of the car he still looked devastatingly handsome. 

The tension in her took a hike as she entered his house, more of a mansion really, which he had just recently bought. She had never been there before, but she had seen the interior during their video calls. The living room was so grand, it could have fit dozens of her small crampy student apartment. She hugged herself, the fiery sensation in her body ebbing away. She suddenly felt small and out of place. Him and her…they were really worlds apart now. 

“How much did you drink?”

He asked, catching her off guard, and all she could do was stared at him because she had no clue at all.

Seemingly catching on that her silence meant that she had drunk too much, Trent’s jaw tightened.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” He said before he made his way to the kitchen, leaving her alone.

She looked around her, wild questions and scenarios jumbling in her head. What was she doing here? Did he truly like her more than just life-long friend? If he liked her then why the hell did he kiss the girl in the club? Who was that girl anyway? Was he just playing with her now that he’s famous?

Her stomach dropped at that unbearable thought.

If he did treat her just as his plaything…it would destroy her, but even if he truly like her as a woman, should they really cross the line? They had a different life now. Would the risk be worth it? Their connection was everything for her, she had never imagined her life without him.

Her head spinning, she took a seat on his ridiculously large and comfortable sofa. A tray with a glass of water, a banana, and some crackers suddenly dropped on to the table in front of her, courtesy of the younger, who settled beside her.

“You should have these.”

His cold, rather indifferent tone ticked her off, she couldn’t help but scoff at him.

“You’re mad at me, really?”

His gaze pierced her, luscious lips curled in a sign of distaste.

“You were seriously drunk and glued yourself to a random stranger, even you’re still a bit drunk now, can you blame me?”

“You kissed another girl.”

She bitterly said, then grimaced when she realized it possibly didn’t make any sense to him. God, she hated how she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, when he wasn’t even hers. To her surprise, he simply shook his head.

“No, I did not. A random girl kissed me and I removed myself immediately. Ask my mates if you must.”

Her eyes rounded at his unexpected answer, suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted off her. Silence filled the room.

“I…” She stopped, suddenly at loss of what to say. She took a sip of water and slowly rose from the sofa, intending to put some distance away from him. She needed to think, and she couldn’t, not with him being so close.

A gasp left her mouth when Trent pulled her back, and she somehow found herself sitting sideways on his lap, arms splayed across his broad chest. He circled her waist with his left arm, one hand cupping her face, so she had no choice but to look at him. Her heart slammed against her chest. He was so close that their breaths mingled together.

“Trent –“

“You have been avoiding me, and I let you play your game. I thought if I was patient enough, you’d come around, that at the very least we could start to talk again, really talk.”

“Well – “

“But hey, there you were, getting fucking wasted…dancing with some random fucking guy in that dress. That guy could easily be a criminal you know. Did you do it to get back at me?”

He bombarded her, rich brown eyes glinting with ire, voice sharpened with dark emotions.

“No!”

She managed to break free even though she stumbled. Feeling like she was in the danger of suffocating any minute, she walked to a large glass window in the middle of the living room, slowly as she couldn’t trust her legs at that moment. She knew the window was facing his vast garden but currently it was pitched black outside. She crossed her arms, feeling his eyes drilling her back. The room was comfortably warm, but she felt strangely cold.

“It wasn’t like that. I saw you with that girl…and I…I just wanted to escape, to not think at all, hence the drink…and Dan.”

“Dan?”

“The guy’s name…I think.”

“You can’t remember your alcohol intake, but you remember his name? Really?”

Her mind was so hazy in the club that she hadn’t really think much when he said he didn’t like it when she danced with other guys, but now….was it jealousy in his voice?

She turned around to face him, who was suddenly standing tall just a few feet away, throwing daggers at her with his eyes. She let out a deep breath, then asked her question. Her bravery improved by the alcohol which still had a grasp on her, though not by much.

“Trent…do you really like me?”      

“Do I – are you seriously asking me that?”

He looked at her like she had grown two heads.

“I do. Do you really like me as more than friends?”

“I kissed you a week ago, told you today you’re all I see, then kissed you again…and more, and you still ask me that?”

The anger in him appeared to be gone, replaced by disbelief. His words rang true, but she just somehow couldn’t believe it.

“This is just….all too sudden isn’t it? Like - if you hadn’t kissed me that day of my return, I never would have guessed. Trent – wait -”

In a flash, he was right in front of her, cornering her against the window. She tried to push him back, but he deftly trapped her wrists with his left hand, bringing it above her head, then stepped forward even closer. Their bodies pressed together, as close as could be with their clothes on. Her heart missed a few beats and her body instantly lit up.

“You said you wanted me to see you, but you didn’t see me at all do you?”

Before she even could process his question, his lips claimed hers in a hungry kiss, destroying her train of thoughts in an instant. He kissed her the way he played football, passionate, relentless, like he could do it forever, and she wished he really could.

Still keeping her mouth and wrists hostage, his right hand traced her heated skin, along the side of her neck, down to her shoulders, then to her breasts. A muffled moan left her as he kneaded the swollen peaks, the dress a meaningless barrier. He then continued down, his hand slipping beneath her dress to squeeze her rear and pressed it forward against his still covered hardness.

“We still need to….talk..”

She said in a breathless moan when he finally freed her lips and wrists to suck hard on the skin of her neck, sinking his teeth in several spots. She shivered, molten heat dripped down straight to her core. It would leave marks and it would take work to cover it. However, as she had just found out herself in that second, him marking her was a total turn on.

“Okay.”

He said against her shoulder, voice thick with desire, while unzipping her dress, and the next second she was clad only in her strapless bra and panties.

“What –“

“We’ll talk, but first… jump.”

As if spellbound, she did as he asked, wrapping her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

“Good girl.”

He whispered against her ear, making her flushed even more, if it was possible. Propping her with his arms, he carried her across the living room and towards the – kitchen?

Still carrying her, he took an opened bottle of water in the middle of the kitchen island with one hand and brought it to her mouth.

“Drink.”

“I already did.”

She said, puzzled.

“Drink more, gonna have to make sure you’re perfectly sober and hydrated when I fuck you senseless at last.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that and her throat all of a sudden felt dry indeed, so she drank, feeling the cold water did nothing to dampen the fever inside of her. He then put the bottle down before claiming her mouth again, smothering her senses. The next thing she knew, she was lying on his bed stark naked, moaning with his mouth suckling and fondling her aching mounds.

“Have imagined about these babies for so long…”

He muttered before lavishing kisses down her abdomen, fingers pinching her tautened peaks, making her back arched. The fire in her was raging and getting more unbearable by the seconds.

“Trent – please - ”

She weaved her fingers through his soft springy hair. She knew they should talk first and set thing straight before doing something as big as this, too much was at stake, but her common sense was gone at that moment.

“What do you want baby?”

“Just….you.”

Moving back up, he pressed their foreheads together, their eyes locked, hips instinctively grinding against her soaking core. He already divested his clothes but still had his briefs on, and she needed more...friction. She could see the carnal longing in his eyes, as she was sure reflected in hers as well.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She had never been more nervous. She wasn’t totally without experience. She went on a few dates and had one, albeit very fleeting, relationship before she went away. She knew Trent had had some girlfriends as well, all of them short-lived, though she didn’t recall he had any in the last couple of years.

“I want you too, you have no idea how much.”

He muttered against her mouth before snatching her lips again, as if he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before staring at her again.

“But first…”

He trailed off and swiftly rolled on the side to sit against the pillows. He then easily arranged her to sit in front of him in a kneeling position, facing him with his hips between her folded legs.

“Let’s talk.”

It took her a couple of seconds to understand what he was talking about. What the-

“Now? Seriously?!”

“Hmmm.”

He said, settling his hands on the small of her back, suddenly sounded not too certain. He chewed on his lower lip and her eyes dropped to his mouth. Damn it, she wanted to have a bite as well.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to sink myself in you so bad, I am dying to, you can literally feel how much…but I don’t want us to do this when you still have doubts about me. I don’t want you to regret this, ever.”

She felt like laughing, crying, and kissing him at the same time. If her body wasn’t currently shouting for him, she would find their situation comical. Her and Trent, naked, in bed…just talking. Gotta hand it to him to still have logic at a time like this. Feeling like he was way older and more mature than her now.

“All right.”

“Do you like me?”

He asked her bluntly.

“I do.”

She said, managing to look straight at him although she couldn’t help the blush on her face. His lips tugged into a sincere smile.

“How long?”

“Looking back now, I think I started to feel differently for you quiet a while before I moved away...you’ve always been special to me Trent, you know that, but when I finally had to go away…there were times that leaving you felt like it was unbearable.”

Her fingers trailed along his defined jaw before she brushed her lips softly against his.

“So yes, I like you, more than that actually - but it’s fine if you don’t love me back – yet – I – I mean the important thing now is you like me too. I –“

He shushed her with a soft kiss of his own, looking deep into her eyes with unabashed affection.

“Three years then…well…I win…try five years. I was seventeen, just lost a match and beating myself up because of it, staying all day in my room. So afraid that was as far as I could go in football, that I would never make it to a first team anywhere. That I would just disappoint my family who have sacrificed so much.”

She gaped at him, in total disbelief of what she was hearing.

“You burst into my room, telling me to man up and return to training, you said I’d make it into the team because I was bloody brilliant, but that even if I didn’t, it didn’t matter...you smiled and hugged me, and said that perhaps I hadn’t seen it yet, but there’s more to life than football and that whatever path I treaded in life, you’d be with me every step of the way. That’s when I knew you’re it for me.”

Gently tucking the strands of her hair behind her ear, he continued his shocking confession.

“So I tried to be there for you for everything, hoping in vain that you’d notice me as more. I watched you go on dates, so I dated as well, wanted to erase you from my mind, which turned out impossible. Then there’s Ben, the guy’s name couldn’t be more boring, honestly, just like his personality, thank God you came to your senses quickly with him. After him, you said that you’d focus on your study, so I held my tongue, quite content with being your go-to person, even though it broke me that you’re so far away.”

“Trent…”

“I had a plan for your return you know, asking you out on a date and all…but you started spouting nonsense about being a sister and I just couldn’t cope with it anymore, so I kissed you.”

He kissed her then, slowly at first, before delving his tongue inside her parted lips, hands smoothened the naked skin of her back, creating delicious shivers as they passed. Her world shifted as he toppled her down onto the bed, him on top of her, propping himself on one forearm so he didn’t crush her, his other hand tantalizingly gliding all over her naked body.

“So yeah, I’ve loved you for five years, wishing that every smile, every hug, every call, every message that we exchange means more to you. Five fucking years…going crazy with countless dreams about you, some sweet, others are wild, and the rest…’’

He pressed his still clothed arousal against her flooded entrance in a teasing manner, earning him a soft moan from her.

‘’…borderline illegal that you’d perhaps run away from me if you knew.”

‘’I…had no idea.’’

That’s all she could say to him. Her heart filled with overwhelming emotions, shock, relief, passion, lust, and so much happiness and love that she felt like she could fly at any moment.

‘’Well now you know.’’

He said as he bestowed a kiss on her forehead then her temple.

‘’So see me now…kissing you..’’

He whispered before kissing the spot behind her earlobe, then down to ravish her mouth.

‘’See me now… pleasuring you…’’

His mouth hovered against the valley of her breasts then captured one pebbled tip into his mouth, rolling the other with his fingers, before switching up the treatment. She shuddered as another stream of pleasure pooled at the center of her.

‘’See me now…worshipping you…’’

She could feel his hot breath on the junction of her thighs and then he delved his tongue into her, slithering through her wet folds. He played her like a violin, and her body was a tight string, getting tighter with every tantalizing move of his tongue.

“You taste better than I imagine baby…my all-time favorite flavor.”

He said, voice heavy with desire, then he licked her upward from the bottom of her weeping core before twirling the swollen nub right above her entrance and gently sucked it. Massive electric current ran through her body and she was done, a high pitch scream of his name left her mouth. He seized her mouth again, letting her taste herself, before aligning his pelvis with hers, his arousal now completely uncovered, eyes almost black with unbridled passion.

‘’See me now… making you mine.’’

Trent buried himself inside of her in one swift move. She was more than ready to receive him, but still as he filled her to the hilt, a little sense of discomfort appeared. He was thick.

He stared at her with concern, muscles tensed as he held himself back.

“All right? Just breathe baby.”

He peppered her with kisses, whispering sweet nothings in her ears to give her time to adapt. It wasn’t long before she rocked her hip, signaling him to move, but he held her still.

“I’m clean. Are you still on the pill?”

She nodded. She hadn’t been dating for a long time, the pill had been more of a convenience means to regulate her period, at least until that moment. It made her realize then just how close they were, how she told him deeply private details about her, hell, even her parents didn’t know that.

“Good...for now. One day I hope you won’t need to be.”

Before she could think about his words, the younger began to move, and her brain shut down. He took her in an unhurried pace, his eyes locked on hers, clearly wanting to savor the moment, but her body was still so sensitive from her previous release that it didn’t take much for her to reach her peak again. A simple twist of his hip and her body quaked involuntarily, eyes fluttered shut as another wave of storm washed over her.

Trent stopped moving, taking a long count to inhale and exhale in an effort not to follow her. Her muscles finally loosened, though barely, and he pulled himself out. A whine left her mouth without she realized it.

“So greedy for me.”

He teased, before making themselves lying sideways and spooned her from behind, embedding himself in her again. He thrust into her in a fast pace then, branding her across every part that he could reach with his lips, one hand playing with the rigid tip of her breasts, his right on her hip to anchor his thrusts.

“Give me more babe.”

“Trent….I can’t…”

She said even as the pressure of another climax began to build quickly inside of her. She had just experiences two best releases of her life, she couldn’t bear a third one. He nipped at her neck.

“You’ve made me pining over you for years baby….I want more…you need to give me more, babe, one more.”

He sounded so demanding that even in the throes of passion, she still had it in her to give him a side eye.

“Look who’s the greedy one.”

She returned his teasing, expected him to chuckle at her jab. Trent cradled her chin between his thumb and forefinger to make her face him, before giving her a rough, thorough kiss which rendered her breathless.

“When it comes to you Princess? You have no idea.”

He said without any humor, eyeing her with absolute possessiveness. He continued to ravage her then, keeping their eyes locked together. It’s like he needed her to literally see him as he’s owning her.

He grazed a certain sweet spot within her, and she jolted, her moaning increased by numbers, yet she still couldn’t look away, trapped by his intense gaze.

“That’s it….such a good girl for me…only me.”

He hissed as he felt her inner walls began to tighten again around him. He felt unbelievable inside her, crazily good, that she lost her mind.

“Baby please…Trent…”

His name came out in a pleading voice. She was on the verge of a burning cliff and he was the only one who could bring her to absolution.

“Come for me, Princess.”

He gave a hard thrust before pulling himself back until his tip is almost out, then drove deep into her for the final time, meshing their mouth together at the same time. She burst then, breaking to pieces as her walls wonderfully clenching him, pushing him through not a second after. She then felt his warmth filled her, but her eyes had already begun to close. She was wholly spent.

“Mine....at last.”

She vaguely heard him and felt his arms around her. The sound of his heartbeat, though still fast, lulled her to the dreamland.

Ray of sunshine seeping through the large bedroom window roused her from her sleep. Her eyes flickered open, she found herself still wrapped in Trent’s embrace. For a second she tensed, couldn’t remember where she was, then last night event flashed through her brain and she relaxed. God, she was sore all over, rarely used muscles throbbing inside of her. She slowly turned around, finding him still deeply asleep and smiled. He looked so adorable in his sleep. Kissing him on the cheek, she grabbed the nearest shirt that she could find, and made her way to the kitchen.

“Excuse me Miss, have you seen my girl by any chance? I think she is around your height, pretty smile, sexy as sin, wearing number 66 on her back?”

In the light of day, he looked just like the sweet Trent that she usually saw around their family. She rolled her eyes at his cheesy lines but couldn’t resist a blush and a smile. He’s just a cute dork sometimes, well, a half naked cute handsome dork with chiseled form and grey sweatpants which was hanging enticingly on his hip.

She looked away in the pretense to turn off the stove, though it was already off.

“Hmm...I think she is right here.”

She said, trying hard not to get flustered.

“She definitely is, and ooh bonus point! She’s making me an omelette for breakfast, just the way I like it. That’s like, two of my fantasies coming true.”

He admitted, giving her his adorable smile, showing his pearly white teeth. She smiled at him, couldn’t hide the fondness in her gaze.

“You’re such a dorky cutie pie sometimes, do you know that?”

He put a hand against his broad chest in an exaggerated movement as if he's offended.

“Excuse me? I am not. I am a grown up fella.”

“One fact does not negate the other you know.”

He tilted his head then, doe eyes flickered with mischievous glint.

“Hmmm. Want to know what else you’re doing with this so-called cutie pie in his fantasy?

Cornering her against the kitchen counter, his hands slipped beneath her shirt, one squeezed her breasts, another dipping between her legs.

“What?”

Her voice came out breathless.

His whisper against her ear was a promise of an immediate action, sending tingles to her every nerve ending.

“My number….plus three, with you all tied up.”

Author’s Note: Aaand that's it! Thank you all for reading my first ever Trent story! Phew this took a while cause really, I love smut but writing smut is hard! Hopefully you enjoy reading this as much as I love making this. Apology for any mistakes as again, I'm not a native. Anway this turned out faar longer than I imagined :A: hope you don’t get bored. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading! <3

[toshisdecadence]

Another Notch on Her Belt

PAIRING(S): sub!yuta okkotsu x dom!reader (descriptions of: reader x suguru geto & reader x satoru gojo)

TAGS & WARNINGS: dark content, dubcon, watersports, humiliation, yuta is a virgin, reader gets massive play, rich girl!reader, cherry popping, forced orgasms, overstimulation, slut shaming, spitting, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, riding, 69ing, public car sex, spitting, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, stepping, trampling, cum eating, footjob, oral sex (m and f receiving), breathplay, yuta is satoru gojo’s cousin, smoking, alcohol consumption

WORD COUNT: 16.8k

SUMMARY: The resident maneater of the university sets her hungry eyes on none other than the shy and bumbling Yuta Okkotsu.

© toshisdecadence

“Pleasure to meet you.”

There’s many things that Yuta was afraid of. Of all the things, they consisted of heights, public speaking, the ocean, his Algebra II teacher, Kanji lessons—you name it. If there were phrases a person should rightfully be frightful of, it should be along the lines of “you’re no longer eligible for your scholarship.” Perhaps “you have diabetes and we have to cut your leg off.” Or, his personal greatest fear—as he presumes to be what other people also fear: “We're so sorry, Mr. Okkotsu, but both of your parents have died in the car accident.” 

But “pleasure to meet you”? It was just four simple words and yet Yuta felt the sensation of unmistakable dread and anxiety travel through his limbs.

It had been quite some time since Yuta had felt this nervous. The last time he felt this unsettled was right before his university entrance exam. He was banking on achieving a specific score in order to qualify for the full-ride scholarship for the psychology department. At that time, it was a matter of life and death to Yuta. He supposed others within the same testing room as him felt the same. Or at least, the ones who needed to worry about money. Despite his more comfortable upbringing, he did not come from money. Nowhere near it. His parents had to ask their absurdly wealthy relatives, the Gojos, to borrow extra money in order to cover Yuta’s prep school costs during high school.

Yuta did not pass the qualifying score for the full-ride, but he did achieve a score that qualified him for a partial scholarship, and his parents were happy for him. They worked hard to support and cover the tuition for their son, insisting that all Yuta had to worry about was his studies and his well being.

His university days had gone by rather peacefully. He had a small and closely-knit group of friends. He did well enough in classes to keep his scholarship, and he got to learn more about the mind as a student of the school’s psychology department.

Yuta was a very warm and friendly person. He was shy, yes, but he always meant well, and that caused him to be surrounded by people who enjoyed his company. Many people had often called him an angel. He was not only adorable, but he was also a good friend. He never had anyone he hated, nor anyone he wasn’t on good terms with. Yuta was the type of person who got along with anyone because of his gentle personality, and nobody could ever get mad at—

“Yuta?”

Your voice incites that panic and fear within him once again, and Yuta is reminded of the reason why he feels such a visceral reaction towards you. The reason why he feels so scared of you.

Right now, Yuta’s stomach felt like it could collapse in on itself. The large space of his cousin Satoru’s mansion suddenly feels infinitely smaller, like it would cave in and push him closer towards your body. The thought of this constricts his throat to the size of a straw. Yuta’s skin was warm from the beer running through his system, but somehow, he felt a cold draft come over him before you. Was he about to break out into a cold sweat? He didn’t even feel this tense even as he prepared to go up for public speaking. Or for when he debated on going up to the waiter at a restaurant and telling them they forgot his side of fries. 

And yet you were looking at him with a blasé stare, as if nothing of importance had transpired between the both of you. You might as well have asked him to grab you some booze from the kitchen when he was on his way there. Yuta finds himself avoiding your gaze, finding interest in the stray spills of alcohol on Satoru’s marbled floors. You don’t budge. You continue to gaze into Yuta’s face, folding your arms over your chest.

Yuta felt like an ant beneath your lofty gaze. Like you were scrutinizing him, picking apart at his expressions and seeing through his feelings. Like you were waiting for the perfect moment to raise your pretty heeled designer boots to stomp on him.

“Sorry,” Yuta finally musters out, still avoiding your gaze. His slender fingers fiddle with his short nails, his head lowered.

“You’re pretty shy,” you hum. It wasn’t meant to be an observation, it was more of a statement, as if you had decided how you viewed his personality. Uncrossing your arms, you reach for the pockets of your brown vintage leather jacket, fishing out an opened pack of black cigarettes. Taking one and placing it between your glossy lips, you outstretch your hand with the pack of cigarettes to Yuta.

His trembling hands gesture to decline, his dark eyes widening. “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but you tuck back the cigarettes in your pocket. You take out a silver lighter afterwards, bringing the flame to the butt of your cigarette and putting it away. You inhale, your cigarette’s embers burning bright red before you pluck it from your lips. A billow of smoke spills from your mouth, and Yuta looks into your eyes. He’s drawn into that indifferent gaze of yours that he’d caught in an accident once before, and the memory forced him still once again.

“Don’t apologize for things like that,” you say in that pleasant and even tone, in that same calm hum as if you have him all figured out. “You should stop doing that.” A puff of smoke billows in the air, and your eyes flicker over to him, pinning him with your dismissive gaze. “It makes your apologies seem less genuine.”

He looks into your pretty eyes, those irises glinting with mirth that makes him feel as if you view him as someone that brings amusement to you. He thinks his knees might buckle under your direct attention. 

Nonetheless, Yuta finds himself at a loss for words. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about you yet. But he was certain that it wasn’t a positive emotion. He looks into your eyes—those same blank eyes that makes him feel as if you view him as someone beneath you, and for the first time, he speaks with a less than civil tone.

“You talk like you’ve known me all my life.”

The small smile deepens on your lips, and somehow it changes the fear that bubbles within his stomach to one of slight indignation.

“I don’t need to know you all your life to understand you as a person,” you state, bringing the cigarette to your lips once again. The embers burn bright as you inhale, never once breaking eye contact with Yuta. “It’s as clear as day. You’re one of those good boys. You never color outside the lines.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, but his eyebrows pinch together.

You don’t add any further commentary.

Not long after, a friend of yours swings by and drags you along to meet some friends, leaving Yuta to gaze at your retreating figure, disappearing within the crowds of people, the trail of your smoke leaving a sour crinkle in Yuta’s nose.

The first time Yuta saw you was a moment he’d never forget.

He recalls it vividly. God, how could he ever forget that? It took place an hour after his lecture had ended and Yuta was passing by the empty hall. It was a Friday, late in the afternoon, and by this time, this area of the building was usually empty as no professors liked to occupy this spot. The halls were quiet, the only sounds coming from Yuta’s faint footsteps as he walked. His face was weary from a long day, bags decorating the skin beneath his face, his lips almost chappy.

The moment Yuta peeked through the doors of the lecture room at the end of the hall, his steps halted to a stop when he heard a faint sound. He turns to the direction of the sounds, his brows pinched together. It was coming from the lecture room. He thought it was weird, who else would be here at this time of the day? There were no more classes left on this floor.

He steps forward with trepidation. His hands grip the cool metal handle of the door, and he twists it, cracking the door open slightly to allow one eye of his to peek in. 

The visage he was greeted with was one of utter debauchery, his breath stilling in his throat.

You were straddling a large man’s thighs with your black skirt hiked up your thighs. He catches the shimmer of black tights pulled taut over your shapely legs. You were fully clothed, almost pristine, save for the half-naked man beneath you. The man looked like a positive mess, his pants pulled down to his knees, his button up shirt wrinkly with a few buttons popped open. Your attention was focused on the man before you, dipping your manicured nails into his mouth. 

“Suck,” you order, and the man follows. His tongue laps up at your fingers, moaning around your fingers with teary eyes, gazing up at you in need. A scoff leaves your plush lips as you let your free stray hand trace the well-sculpted planes of his broad chest, your fingers lingering on his puffy nipples.

“Look at these,” you coo, harshly grabbing the man’s perky nipple and twisting it. This earned a sharp intake of breath from the man around your fingers. “Don’t you think you need a bra, hmm?” A muffled moan comes from the man’s mouth. “You’re sucking my fingers even harder now.” A humorless laugh leaves your lips, your head cocked to the side. “You like to be treated like a bitch? You like being my slut?”

The man gives frenzied nods.

His response seems to disappoint you, and you pluck your fingers from his mouth, a wet squelch echoing throughout the lecture room. Lifting yourself from him, you fix your skirt and stand tall, looming over the seated man. His dick stands erect, flushed and red, twitching pitifully, and you gaze at it with indifference.

“Men like you don’t deserve to get anywhere inside of me,” you say with disinterest. “Men like you just take what I give you, and count yourself blessed because I even looked at you. Do you understand?”

The man nods, panting heavier. “Yes, ma’am.”

You seem satisfied, so you lift your leg, pressing your heeled feet against his erect dick.

“I should reward you for being so good,” you hum, rubbing his dick with the fine leather of your heels. “Cumming just from my feet, hmm? God, look at you, all worked up for me like a needy bitch in the fucking classroom.” The man’s cock twitches as your foot continues its work, stroking him with your heels, watching in sick satisfaction as the sharp heel digs into the flesh of his heavy balls. This earned a pathetic whine from the man’s lips, his hips twitching. “Careful not to cum on my shoes,” you warn in a stern voice, stilling the movement of your foot, “or I’ll make you regret it.”

The man cries out, his hips stuttering. You take a step to the side, watching as the man cums on himself and on the floor. A sneer stretches on your lips, gazing down at the man.

“Did you just cum from being stepped on?” Ridicule laces your voice. You glance down at the cum stains on the floor, and you return your attention to the flushed face of the man, who was gazing at you like you were some sort of goddess.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he exhales, coming down from his high.

You nod your indifferent head toward the floor. “Get on your knees and lick up the mess you made. Don’t miss a spot.”

The man smiles dreamily, nodding his head. He kneels on the floor, on all fours like a dog as he lowers his face to the floor. Yuta’s eyes widen as he sees the man’s tongue stick out, licking up his cum from the dirtied floors. There’s a sick expression spread on your pretty face. You take a step forward, and you press down a heeled foot on the man’s upper back, forcing him to go lower.

“Do it properly,” you order. This earns a muffled groan from the man, and he continues, lapping up lazily at his own liquids, a man lost in the hazy pleasure.

By this time, Yuta’s breaths stutter, and he realizes he has unconsciously held his breath in fear of being discovered. Unfortunately for him, as if you read his mind and readily wish to go against his desires, you look towards the crack in the door.

Yuta feels all the air leave his lungs when your gaze bore directly into his.

For the first time, since he’s encountered you having your way with the man in the studio, he is finally allowed a good look at your face. You were ridiculously pretty, Yuta immediately thinks. You had one of those memorable faces. Pretty features, pert lips, with those void eyes that feel as if they were sucking him in the longer he gazed into them. The pretty features were fixed in an icy manner given your less than friendly disposition, and Yuta felt immense fear with the utter lack of warmth in your eyes.

You break eye contact with him first, not seeming to care if you had an audience as you bent the man before you to your will. Yuta takes this as his chance to retreat, his hands shakily closing the door shut before running toward the elevators to leave.

Yuta never tells any of his friends what he’d seen. Fazed, he returns to his shared dorm with his best friend, Toge Inumaki. The male looks up at Yuta’s approaching figure, noting the odd expression on his roommate’s face.

“Hey,” Toge says from his bed with pinched brows, his laptop sitting on his lap as he did some assignments. Toge became acquainted with Yuta because of Yuta’s cousin once again, Satoru Gojo. It was through Satoru’s vast friendship circle that Yuta had the fortune of meeting the man. Yuta and Toge hit it off as good friends since the beginning of high school, remaining as friends and attending the same university. When deciding on a dorm, both of them needed a roommate, and the rest was history.

“Hey,” is all Yuta says before he crashes into his bed. He relishes in the cold sheets, his body having been warm in the hot and humid weather outside. He feels grateful to have a roommate that knows him so well. Toge always kept the air conditioning system turned on so their dorms were cold and chilly.

“I ordered some chicken, it’s in the fridge so just heat it up if you’re hungry,” his friend supplies.

“I’ll eat some in a bit, thank you,” Yuta mutters out. “I’m just a little out of it.”

“Did something happen?” Toge asks, glancing over at him with a blank face. The staccato of his fingers tapping down on his laptop’s keyboard fill the relative silence of the dorm. “You don’t lie down immediately in bed after coming from outside because you hate the outside germs.”

“No,” Yuta murmurs, burying his face in his pillow, his soft voice almost muffled, “nothing happened.”

An unimpressed scoff comes from the man. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it better.”

Yuta groans, grabbing his sheets and hiding his face. If there was one thing he lamented, it’s his inability to hide his emotions. His friends pointed out how easy it was to see his emotions. He didn’t have a filter. He said what he felt, and if he didn’t, his face would show it. Or his ears. He had the unfortunate tendency for his ears to redden whenever he felt embarrassed.

“So?” Toge probes, his attention still focused on his laptop as he types away. “What’s got you like this?”

“Have you ever met a woman who scared you?” Yuta finally blurts it out. He does so after carefully considering how he felt about you based on his first impression. As far as first impressions go, he could argue that he had the worst one anyone could possibly experience with you. He can still feel it. The chilly gaze of yours that bore into his eyes through the crack of the door. That emotionless stare. It unsettled him. He hadn’t seen anyone so . . . uninterested. In anything, or anyone. Yuta tightens his grip on his comforters at the sudden shiver that travels through his body at the recollection of you.

Toge pauses to consider this. “Hmm. No one except my mom when she found out I stayed up playing games instead of sleeping.”

“Not like that,” Yuta sighs. “I mean, like, someone you don’t know. A woman your age that just scares you from the first impression.”

“. . . I don’t get it. Every woman is scary.”

“Then I don’t know any other way to explain it,” Yuta murmurs.

“Wait, so you met a girl?” Toge sounds surprised, shutting his laptop to properly turn to the direction of his friend. Yuta internally chastises himself for being so open to his friend about his romantic experiences. His friends—Satoru and Toge, basically—had wasted no expense in trying to set him up with girls, but he was never really interested. Some of them also did not like how shy he was. How he stumbled over his words and couldn’t meet them in the eye properly. Yuta was also not keen on the college hook-up world. He didn’t understand how someone could just have sex with someone they just met, and then act as if they don’t know each other afterwards. “Are you finally joining the hook-up world?” Toge probes, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Downloading Tinder?”

“No!” Yuta huffs out with a scandalized expression on his soft features. “Never that!”

Toge’s face falls, turning back to face his laptop, opening it again. He’s typing his password once again. “I should’ve known you’re a forever virgin,” he grumbles. “We’re the same age but how do I get more pussy than you?”

“Because I don’t feel comfortable h-having sex with women I’m not dating!” Yuta protests in a whisper, his ears dusted red.

“Whatever you say, Mother Theresa.”

Yuta falls momentarily silent. His roommate for the past year has been witness to his love life—or lack thereof. College was the time people hooked up, drank, smoked, and had fun. One could argue Yuta was the weird one for not participating, but he was firm in his beliefs. He wasn’t really a ‘wait-until-marriage’ type of guy, but he did believe in reserving those things for someone he’s in a relationship with, hence his inexperience with girls. He’s only ever had one serious relationship during high school, but even then, they never did anything further than kiss. Toge almost dropped his bowl of cereal the morning when Yuta disclosed he was a virgin. With renewed vigor, his roommate sought to help “rid him of his problem,” in Toge’s words, and had also employed the help of his other friends to introduce girls to him. Despite how many girls have been interested in him and attempted their shot, Yuta still finds himself yet to reciprocate any of their advances.

Yuta has a rather innocent belief about love. He wanted to have a girlfriend he truly adored. He wanted to cherish her and kiss her, and make love to her. He wanted her to shower him with kisses. He wanted to whisper words of love into her ear, hold her hand, and feel the warmth of her embrace. He wanted to love only her and to dedicate himself to her. He wanted to marry her in the future, to wake up to the sight of her next to him in bed every day for the rest of his life. He wanted a pure and timeless love.

But his traitorous mind flickers over to thoughts of you back in that lecture room. He ponders silently. You seemed to be completely the complete opposite of his ideal. You treated the man like you hated him. Like he was beneath you. Insulting him by calling him a bitch and a slut, stepping on him without remorse, ordering him to lick the dirty floor, and you seemed to find a sick joy in it. Dominating the helpless man beneath you as if it came as easy as breathing. Like it was second-nature. He didn’t understand it. There was no love in that type of lovemaking. It was just . . . humiliation. Yuta didn’t know how anyone could be into that.

The image of you shoving your fingers into the mouth of the naked man, shutting him up as you straddled him without a care in the world through the crack of the door that Yuta peeked at flashes once again in his mind. The twisted glimmer in your eyes and your plush lips curled in a cruel sneer.

I should reward you for being so good, your low drawl resounds in his head.

Yuta was unfamiliar with this feeling. That feeling that swirled within his stomach seemed to be an odd amalgamation of curiosity, fear… and excitement.

He wonders if you would recognize him just from that brief glimpse through the door.

It becomes apparent to him on the third time you meet, once again at another party, that you do remember him.

Yuta is finding his way to the bathroom, skirting around people. He’d drunk too much iced tea, after Toge had made some when his mother sent over some tea leaves and a family recipe with it. It tasted perfect. Yuta was happy to have it as an alternative to alcohol at this party. He was now lamenting that decision as he was ready to piss any moment.

He does find a bathroom, and he opens it and slips inside immediately, only to find you inside, sitting on the countertops with your skirt hiked up and a man between your thighs.

The man between your thighs immediately protests at the intruder. “What do you think you’re—” he begins.

“Get the fuck out,” you interrupt.

Yuta’s ears turn red, and he stumbles back slightly. What the fuck was going on? He feels his breathing speed up. His surroundings all of a sudden feel small and cramped. He’s glancing at the man who’s glaring at him, then to you who has that same signature blank stare. There it was again. That look. Like you could care less if he stayed to watch you. His hands shakily feel for the doorknob, turning it and getting ready to leave before you—

“Not you,” your voice speaks out, and Yuta freezes. He turns back to see you looking down towards the man between your legs, who you push away with your heels, your shoes pressing painfully against the man’s chest. The man’s back reaches the bathroom’s walls with a grunt at the impact.

“You,” you assert, staring dead into the eyes of the other guy. “You get out. Not him.”

The guy looks alarmed. “What?” he huffs out. “But we were just—”

“And I just changed my mind,” you state, voice so chilly that Yuta shivers in his spot.

The man questions you no longer and scrambles to get out of the bathroom, muttering curses under his breath before he slams the door behind him.

Silence and the muted boom of the loud R&B music blasting outside fill the space of the bathroom. You finally turn to look at Yuta, hiking your skirt down, but remaining on the counter. You didn’t seem to have any plans of leaving. A moment of awkwardness settles in the bathroom, and he couldn’t handle it any longer.

Yuta bows his head apologetically, unable to lift his head to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry for intruding,” he murmured out softly. “I’ll find a differe—”

“What for?” you deadpan, pushing your skirt back down to maintain some decency. “If you need to piss just do it in this bathroom. That’s what you came here for, right?”

Yuta is at a loss for words. He shifts on his feet uncomfortably. Were you that open-minded? Did you not have a concept of personal space? Was it normal for you to just watch strangers piss? Was that also a kink? What the hell was going on?

“If you’re worried about your dick, don’t be,” you state, fishing for something in your jacket’s pockets once again. “This is your second time seeing me like this after all.” Yuta gulps at your words, his eyes widening. So you do remember him. 

A small satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your plush lips upon seeing his expression. “I doubt that seeing your dick would make a difference in our relationship,” you drawl. You produce that same cigarette pack, grabbing one and placing it between your lips. “Or lack thereof,” you add with a light cock of your brow. You light it in that same way, and Yuta briefly thinks to himself about your particular scent. It was a signature one that he was beginning to familiarize himself with. A chilly mint with a hint of smoke. Hot and cold. Distant yet . . .

You suddenly lean in closer, face mere inches away from Yuta’s, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your glossy lips.

. . . close.

“You apologized again, though,” you say, now looking particularly unimpressed. “I thought I told you not to do that?”

Yuta frowns at this. He was beginning to grow irate. His bladder was screaming. His panic was setting in by being in such close proximity with you. He needed to be alone.

“Uh, I need to use the bathroom, so…” he mutters out. “If you could . . . um.”

You lean back at his words. There was no particular change in your expression, but you pluck the cigarette between your lips and exhale a puff of smoke towards Yuta’s face, causing his face to scrunch. He attempts to fan away the fumes from his face. It only makes his need to piss even more urgent, and by now Yuta was biting down on his lip trying to hold it in. He couldn’t piss in front of some random girl. Especially you. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I’ll consider it if you ask nicely,” is all that you say, an amused curl on your lips, crossing your legs on the counter. Yuta’s eyes betray him as they follow the motion. You smile at him, and the little twinkle in your otherwise void eyes tells him you noticed. “I told you I don’t mind if you pissed while I’m in the bathroom.”

“But I mind,” he lets out between gritted teeth, his voice still soft. “. . . Please? I need to use it.”

Your eyes gaze at him with mirth. You cock your head to the side, inspecting him. “You’re cute,” you coo. 

You uncross your legs, getting off the counter. Plucking the cigarette from between your lips, you reach for his mouth, parting his lips to slot in the lipstick stained cigarette between his lips. Your hands ghost over his face for a bit, and he notes the color of your nails. Bubblegum pink. He almost thinks it’s cute, but your unreadable expression renders him quiet. Your face is so close. Yuta swears he can count your individual lashes, see the expanse of your eyes, feel your warm breath against his skin. He can smell the mint much more intensely at this proximity. He detects the barest traces of vanilla mingled in. His senses are filled with you; your skin, your face, the heat of your body, your lips, your eyes, the lingering taste of your cherry lipstick on the butt of your cigarette between his lips. Your stray hand reaches towards his furrowed brows, as if to attempt to smooth them; your other hand reaches for the corner of his lips to tug it up slightly.

“Though you’re cuter when you’re smiling,” you finish, eyes faintly crinkled in a fond manner. You open the door behind him and slip out, shutting it gently behind you.

His cheeks heat up, frozen still in the bathroom. Yuta is left by himself, your cigarette stuck between his lips, and the phantom grazes of your fingers on his skin. 

Yuta knows nothing about you but your name.

He’s on a quest to find out more, walking down the stairs, trying to locate his friends to find answers. He easily spots Satoru’s snowy hair among the sea of drunk bodies and makes his way to his group of friends. He shimmies in, waving his hands as they recognize him and call out his name.

Noritoshi, Satoru, Aoi, Toge, and Suguru are all gathered together. Aoi immediately heads over next to Yuta to put his beefy arms over the younger man’s shoulders as a greeting.

“Yuta,” Aoi greets him with a smile, a red solo cup in hand. His dark hair was pulled up in a neat bun at the back of his head, the scar on his face peppered with a few lipstick marks. “What’s up, man? We were looking for you everywhere earlier.”

“I was in the bathroom,” Yuta replies. “I drank too much iced tea.”

The tall and burly man leans in to sniff him. “Oh?” Yuta tenses at the playful lilt of Aoi’s deep voice. “Did you smoke there too?”

Noritoshi’s brow rises. His dark hair framed the look of confusion that crossed his calm features. “Yuta, you smoke?”

The other guys look equally as puzzled.

Satoru gasps in offense at the thought of his little cousin hitting a blunt without him present. “Since when?” His widened blue eyes fix themselves on Yuta, his jaw dropping. He places his hand on his hip in offense. “And why haven’t you told me? We could’ve dragged you out for Weed Wednesdays!”

“No, it wasn’t me who smoked,” Yuta supplies, smiling awkwardly, raising his hands to wave them dismissively. “It was some other person in the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Satoru frowns, his parted mouth turning to a lopsided frown, then he shrugs. “Well, you’re still invited to Weed Wednesdays.”

“Thank you, Satoru,” Yuta chuckles, his focus a bit scattered as he thinks back to you. His lips pressed into a straight line, debating whether he should ask the question to his friends. He clears his throat, his expression pensive. The other men had fallen quiet, waiting for Yuta to speak. “I . . . actually had a question for you guys,” he murmurs.

With a soft exhale, Yuta finally utters your name and asks about you.

A small silence settles between the men, before Satoru speaks.

“I know her,” the snowy-haired man affirms, now fixing Yuta with that suspicious glint in his large crystalline blue eyes. “She’s a family friend.”

“All I know about her is that she’s loaded,” Toge supplies, shrugging. “She’s pretty. Don’t know too much about her though.”

“Yup,” Satoru affirms next to Noritoshi with a nod. “She’s a looker. Probably one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met.” He kisses his teeth as he cocks his head to the side. “Love her and all. Known her since we were kids. Problem is she’s kind of a slut like I am.”

“And that’s saying a lot,” Noritoshi adds with a sigh, his dark eyes flickering over to the white-haired man next to him. “Satoru’s Instagram account pops up if you Google the word ‘slut.’”

Satoru hums along, taking a sip from the beer in his hand. “I like to call it being charming,” he clarifies with a grin.

“I don’t talk to her much, so I don’t really know,” Noritoshi adds on, ignoring Satoru. “I do see her occasionally at parties. She’s closer to Satoru and Suguru, so she’s more of a friend of a friend for me.” He hums for a bit, pensive. “She knows Aoi too.”

“Not intimately,” Aoi clarifies. “Our only close encounter was when she fingered my ass in the backseat of my car.”

Yuta is scandalized, and so are the other guys. So far, he had seen and heard about your involvement with three guys. Who knows how many there are? Yuta couldn’t believe that someone would be capable of being so . . . open.

Satoru frowns at his friend’s words, taking a respectable step away. “Wouldn’t you argue that being fingered in the ass is rather intimate?”

“No,” Aoi shook his head, looking completely sincere. “She never spoke to me after.”

“Ass game must’ve been weak,” Toge clicked his tongue.

“You try being fingered by her!” Aoi protests with a frown. He reaches over to steal Toge’s solo cup for himself, slotting it over his own cup that was empty by now, earning a complaint from the short man. “I don’t know what type of witchcraft she did but that was the first time I came just from having my ass played with. Say what you want about her but she knows what she’s doing.”

“Oh, right,” Satoru suddenly frowns, turning towards Suguru who had been suspiciously silent this entire time. He points an accusatory finger at the man. “Aren’t the two of you fucking, too?”

‘Too’? Yuta’s gaze shifts between Satoru and Suguru. What the hell?

“Not exclusively,” Suguru clarifies in that playful lilt of his smooth voice. He’s smiling in a charming way. “We fuck here and there.”

“Does she finger you, too?” Satoru asks curiously.

“Does she use toys?” Aoi pipes in.

“Alright!” Noritoshi interrupts, growing tired of his infantile friends. He exhales, pinching the bride of his nose, fixing the other men a flat stare. “Enough of Suguru’s sex life.” The other men glance away, seeming to be chastised. He turns towards Yuta. “The question is: why are you asking this?”

Yuta hesitates in answering long enough for Satoru to fill in the blanks himself.

“Don’t tell me that you’re interested in her,” he gasps. Before Yuta can open his mouth and explain that is not the case, Satoru is already talking in that dramatic voice of his. “Yuta, as your older cousin, I am warning you that she’s the witch they warn us about in the fairytales we read when we were kids! I advise you to stay far, far away from her.”

Aoi whistles in amusement, a teasing smirk on his lips. He leans in to give Yuta a nudge with his elbow. “Maybe Yuta's interested in breaking his virginity spell at last.”

“You’re not helping my case here,” Satoru deadpans, staring in disapproval. 

“The heart wants what it wants,” Aoi sing-songs. “And perhaps Yuta”—he pats the younger male’s shoulder—��like all men with fine taste do, like his women grown.”

Yuta is left speechless. Sure, he did, to some extent, find you attractive. He had working eyes. He can see all the appeal about you. You were pretty and rich. And a good lay in bed, apparently. But he wasn’t looking for that. He was sure as hell that he wasn’t the type of guy you messed around with. And he was certain that you weren’t the type of girl he was interested in.

“You have the wrong idea,” Yuta sighs, gently peeling Aoi’s large hand away from his shoulder. “Besides, you guys already know what I’m looking for in a relationship. I want something that’s—”

“We know, we know—you want pure love, marriage, a blue collar job, 5 kids, yeah, we get the picture,” Satoru finishes the sentence for him with a sigh, reciting it as if it came from his memory. “But seriously. I mean it. Don’t fall for it. For her. She’s bad news.”

Yuta nods absentmindedly, smiling awkwardly. Sure, Satoru had exaggerated some of the details, but he wasn’t entirely wrong. Yuta gathers his thoughts, trying to place what exactly it was that he felt about you. Fear? Fascination? Attraction? Were you a novelty that Yuta was simply trying to wrap his head around?

Spring break came, and he hasn't seen you since that encounter in the bathroom. 

Yuta forgets you for a while. He went on about his life. Classes. Studying. The same old. But he unexpectedly meets you once again this time through Satoru’s spring break party at one of the Gojos’ beachside villas. Only a select group of people were invited. Close acquaintances of Satoru, including his friends and best friends, but even with the party being more selective, there were still easily 30 people at the party. Satoru Gojo was practically friends with everyone. Yuta often marveled at how the guy could keep up with all his friends.

Within the tall, three-story, Mediterranean-inspired architecture of the beachside villa. Yuta made his way to the kitchen. And there he finds you.

You were leaning against the marble kitchen island, a mimosa nestled between your manicured fingers. They were dyed a dark cherry red this time. You wore a white backless silk halter top, tied at the back of your neck with a silk bow that drooped, with a tiny white skirt. Your hair was tied up, and your lips shimmered with a cherry red that complimented the color of your nails. You wore complementary white kitten heels, and you were surrounded by a small group of people. 

One of the faces Yuta could make out was Suguru, who was leaning on the kitchen island next to you, his hand resting intimately at the small of your back. You were deep in conversation, occasionally sipping from your drink, leaning in closer to Suguru whenever he whispered something to you.

“Who are you looking at?”

Yuta jolts from his standing position, yelping in surprise before he turns to see Aoi standing beside him. The older male was dressed in some casual distressed jeans, black platforms, and a cream button up shirt that exposed a generous amount of his collarbones.

“What are you . . . ?” Yuta’s tiny voice trails off in surprise. 

Aoi’s expression has settled into one of those expressions. He’s wiggling his eyebrows playfully before glancing over in your direction and back at Yuta.

“It’s not like that!” Yuta leans in to whisper.

“Really?” Aoi raises a brow, suspicion dripping in his voice. “You mean it?”

“Yes!”

“Okay,” he shrugs, leaning forward to wrap his arm around Yuta’s back. “Let’s go over there and say hello, then.”

Yuta begins to panic. He protests quietly, but to no avail.

Aoi raises his spare hand, grinning brightly. “Suguru!” he calls out.

You and Suguru look back towards their direction, and Yuta swears he can feel himself momentarily stop breathing. Your gaze was fairly unreadable, but yet you were so pretty tonight that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Yuta wasn’t sure whether he wanted to drag Aoi to the beachside and toss his LV shoes in the chilling and dark waters out of anger, or to take the man out for a meal for being given the opportunity to look into your face.

“Aoi,” Suguru’s face lights up. His charming smile stretches further when he catches sight of Yuta. “And Yuta! Come on over.”

You simply sip at your mimosa, not saying a word, and Yuta lets himself get dragged by Aoi towards the group surrounding you. You continue to look impassively at Yuta, before your attention is swept away by Suguru who once again leans in to whisper something into your ear.

You chuckle at whatever it is he said. Your hands reach over behind Suguru’s head. Gazing into the male’s eyes, your fingers massage the back of his head, running your fingers through his chestnut hair. Everyone else seems to acknowledge that you and Suguru are set to disappear somewhere soon, but they pay no mind and continue to talk.

Yuta finds himself drawn to you. The visage of you, clad in all white. The kitchen’s lights and the way they dance against your features makes you seem angelic. He’s still not sure what this feeling is exactly. He’s never felt anything like this before. Did he want to be in Suguru’s place? Did he want your pretty fingers playing with his hair? Did he want your pretty eyelashes fluttering up at him?

You place your unfinished mimosa down on the kitchen island. Your hand reaches to grab Suguru’s wrist before you start to walk away, and he follows you in that practiced manner. As if this was something that always happened.

As you walk, you spare Yuta a small sideways glance, the barest of smiles graces your lips. You look away just as fast, and you disappear in the crowd.

“Look at them slipping away,” Aoi mutters next to Yuta’s ears. “They look like they’re leaving. Probably going to one of their cars and start fucking.”

“Does this always happen?” Yuta asks, furrowing his brows.

“Hmm,” Aoi pauses to think. “Not often? Well, at least, I don’t know everything that goes on. I see her in parties with Suguru and all and since they’re fucking it’s not weird that they slip away once in a while.”

Yuta can’t help but imagine what Suguru’s perspective would be in a few minutes’ time. Would you be straddling Suguru’s thighs in the backseat of your car? Would Suguru get to see your hooded eyes, looking down as you grind those hips on him? Would you let Suguru undo the ribbon of your halter top and play with your breasts? What sounds would you make if he did that? How would you look with your skirt hiked up, panties rubbing against his—

But Yuta quickly stops that thought, exhaling shakily.

Yuta must be afflicted with some odd illness, he decides. Because otherwise, he would not have followed you. 

The hood of your deep red convertible was pulled up, and from the distance that Yuta was at, he could see you sitting on Suguru’s lap through the car windows. Your halter top is undone, breasts freed as Suguru suckles on your breasts desperately. Your head is thrown back, little sighs escaping your lips.

Yuta doesn’t risk going any closer so he doesn’t get caught. So he remains at a distance, peeking just above the gate of the beachside villa to peer at the activity going on inside your parked convertible. He doesn’t hear any sounds due to the closed windows, but he does witness your body moving atop Suguru. You were smiling down at the dark-haired man, and Suguru’s head was thrown back against the seat.

You grab a pair of what seemed to be a tiny piece of black fabric, before you stuff it into Suguru’s mouth. Yuta watches with bated breath as he sees Suguru’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Not long after, you seem to be doing something with your hands that Yuta can’t quite see, causing the man beneath you to thrash around.

Was it from sensitivity? Yuta wondered. He’d never had sex so he never knew how it would feel. He’s jerked off, the usual, and he thought he was satisfied with that until he met his first girlfriend during high school. The furthest they’d ever gone was a kiss. Yuta was satisfied with that back then. He was content to wait until he found someone he truly loved. He wanted to have sex for the first time with his beloved girlfriend. He aspired for something pure. But since he’s met you, he finds his image of the future blurring. Now, looking at you, and how the men with you react in such a crazed way whenever you handle them—when you degrade and humiliate them—it stirs up an odd feeling within Yuta’s stomach. A feeling that’s familiar but he can’t quite place.

Now, he was certain that he was sexually attracted to you. That was the only possible way to explain why Yuta’s hands were trailing towards the tent in his pants, attempting to soothe it, find some sort of friction, to seek release.

Yuta wonders how good you’d make him feel if you ever allowed it. How good you’d feel straddling him. How good you’d smell. How good you’d look. How you’d speak to him. How you’d bend him to your will. He’s chasing that faint mint and cigarette smell. He wonders what it’s like when it’s mixed with sweat and the heat of your bodies. He wonders what it’s like for you to shove those pretty nails into his mouth to shut him up. He wonders what it’s like to let go and let you handle everything. He wonders what it’s like to peer up at your downturned face while trapped between the deathly grip of your plush thighs.

Yuta’s thoughts cease immediately when he glances at your direction. Your eyes bore into his once again through the window of your car. Those same hypnotizing eyes. Hazy, with the mimosa, maybe smoking, maybe with the high of sex, maybe with the high of being watched—or a mixture of everything. Yuta is too stunned to process the situation or move. Once again, you don’t seem to care if he moves or continues watching. 

A small lingering smile that doesn’t reach your eyes tugs at the corners of your glossy lips.

“You seem to have a habit of watching me.”

Yuta freezes in his position on the sidewalk by Satoru’s beachside villa. You’re driving your convertible, cigarette hanging at the corner of your lips, the embers burning bright as you inhale. You seem to be waiting for an explanation, and when Yuta doesn’t immediately provide one, you exhale the smoke right at his face.

He begins coughing, his hands rising to swat away the smoke from his face. You watch him passively as he does so. Yuta doesn’t know how to begin. How does he even explain the fact that he followed you and Suguru to a spot where he could see the both of you fuck? You must have thought he was a weirdo. But wait, aren’t you the weirdo too for not seeming to mind the presence of an audience? What the fuck was going on?

“So,” you probe, breaking his train of thought, “you like watching people have sex?”

Yuta lets out some sort of strangled noise. The notion you just suggested causes him to start coughing, and he’s bringing his fists to his mouth to muffle the sound of his coughs. You look unimpressed.

“You’re not even responding back,” you say, sounding somewhat bored, dangling your left arm on the sides of your convertible.

“. . . I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, his head lowered. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. He was certain his cheeks were flushed red. “I’m really sorry,” his voice was so faint and shaky, “I didn’t . . . mean to. I don’t know what went over me.”

You pause to consider this, inhaling your cigarette. Yuta knows this is just an excuse. A desperate one, but you don’t address it. Thankfully. After you exhale, you tap your cigarette against the side of your car to get rid of the excess.

“You don’t sound awfully sorry to me though?” you muse, a faint smile dancing on your glossy lips.

Yuta’s lowered head shoots up at your words. His cheeks flush red, and he’s sputtering over his words. His mind is blanking. His trembling lips part, opening and closing as if to say something, but nothing ever came out.

Your eyes narrow in mirth, your smile turning into a conniving one. “I like you,” you hum in amusement. “You’re cute.”

And that just about sent Yuta over. His ears were reddening now too, just a bumbling mess of a guy on the sidewalk. You? Liking him? A girl as pretty as you? There was no way.

Yuta’s mind is a mess. Confusion soon settles on his face, and he’s at a loss for words. “What?” he manages to stutter out.

“You heard me,” you hum cooly. Then you nod your head toward the direction of your passenger’s seat. “Hop in.”

“But—”

“But what?” you ask, glancing up at him. “You don’t have any plans tomorrow, do you?” You drop the cigarette in your free hand onto the pavement. Yuta stares at it as the embers die out, blending into the dull gray of the pavement.

Yuta finds his body moving immediately. He’s heading towards the passenger seat next to you, opening the door and settling himself inside. He’s conscious of the groups of people outside, who probably noticed the whole exchange between you and him. He wonders what they think, but that thought is immediately shut down as you’re stepping on the accelerator without a word.

Yuta is surprised by the sudden speed. Panicked, he’s clutching tight to the car door’s handle and carefully reaching for the seatbelts despite the gust of wind pushing his body back. A quick glance to your side shows that you’re not wearing a seatbelt, and before thinking, Yuta leans in and grabs the seatbelt from your side to fasten it.

“Seatbelt!” Yuta attempts to yell as much as he can despite the strength of the wind whipping past the both of you, rendering hearing more difficult than usual. To his chagrin, his voice came out more as a broken squeak.

You’re staring at him now, with that slight curl at the ends of your lips. Yuta reaches for your face and directs your head to face forward in panic, before he returns clutching onto the sides of the car for extra support.

A mere chuckle is all that leaves your lips. Nonetheless, you tap the button for the convertible hood to rise up once again. The car slows down significantly from its former speed, the chill breeze slowly fading away, the loudness of the cold night wind all disappearing as the convertible’s hood shuts. Silence fills the car, and you quietly raise both the windows before turning on the air conditioning.

You drive in silence for a bit, not going near the radio to turn on any sort of music. This vacancy of noise leaves Yuta with own thoughts to brew.

What was this situation? He finds himself pondering. Frantically searching for an answer. And where were they going? Were they just going to leave without letting Satoru and the others know? What was your intention?

“I can almost hear your thoughts, you know,” you say suddenly, reaching for another cigarette and slotting it between your lips. With your free hand, you grab a black lighter and quickly light the butt of your new cigarette, inhaling and exhaling the puffs of white. “Why? Do you not trust me?”

Panicked, Yuta stares at you as if you were some sort of weird creature. “Can you read minds?”

You crack a smile. “What do you think?” you probe, glancing over towards him, faintly fixing the cigarette in your lips with your fingers. “Of course, I can’t. But you might as well say your thoughts because your face is damn awful at hiding it.”

Yuta hesitates. “Where are we going?” he finally asks.

“Back to my place.”

Yuta is at a loss for words, stuttering. “W-Why are we—?”

“I’m going to fuck you, aren’t I?” you interrupt casually, glancing towards him. Yuta’s lips part in disbelief at your nonchalant words. Almost as if you were asking him a simple question instead of telling him you planned to fuck him. “Unless you wanted me to do that in Satoru’s villa?”

His ears begin to heat up at your blunt words. Yuta still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Were you always this blunt? Was this okay? Was he really going through with this? With someone he barely knew? Someone who he wasn't in a relationship with? Someone he didn’t love? Were you really going to . . . ?

You take his silence as an answer in itself.

“Thought so,” you seem pleased. “I much prefer the comfort of my own place. The car could’ve been an option.” You glance at him before returning your gaze towards the road. “But I decided against it.”

Yuta doesn’t say anything, but he quietly ponders. Were you being considerate of him since he saw you riding Suguru just a few hours ago in the very backseat of your car? Or did you just want to go back home? Was he ready for whatever it was you were about to drag him into?

You arrive at your apartment complex some twenty minutes later. It was in a high-scale urban area, the most expensive in the city, with you driving up towards a guardhouse beneath a very tall swanky apartment complex. You pull your window down, showing your face, and the guards immediately open the gates for you, allowing you to drive into the parking lot.

Yuta was in awe as you drove towards a parking spot next to numerous nice cars. Was this normal for swanky apartments? Yuta had never lived in the city so he had never experienced apartments located in the heart of the city, surrounded by all the buzz of nearby people in hot malls, expensive restaurants, flagship stores of designer brands, parks, museums, you name it.

You park safely, and step out of the car. Yuta hesitantly follows, closing the car door behind him. He glances up at you, a black bag of sorts slung on your shoulder. No doubt designer. Yuta just wasn’t fashion-savvy enough to pick up what brand because it didn’t have any logos, or if it did, he didn’t recognize it.

“Come,” is all you say, nodding your head towards the direction of the lobby.

Yuta follows you into the well-lit lobby. Marble floors, tall ceilings, gold fixtures on the walls, carefully curated plants. The lobby smelled nice as well. Like crisp sandalwood and fresh mint. It smelled somewhat like you. 

The silence between you makes Yuta feel the need to break it.

“Your place is . . . nice,” he lets out in a soft mutter.

You glance over towards him, raising a brow, before you let out a small laugh. “Yeah?” you probe, though you sound disinterested, almost as if you’ve heard this numerous times. “You like it?”

He nods, just as the elevator opens.

“Good,” you hum, seemingly satisfied. You start to walk into the elevator, with Yuta in tow.

The elevator was similar to the lobby. Tall and gold fixtures. A glance up revealed a vaulted ceiling with ambient lighting and a modern lighting fixture similar to a chandelier hanging in the center of the elevator. The elevator had a mirror wall with deep cerulean velvet designs, and Yuta could see his reflection in the mirror, standing next to you. He was aware that he was fairly tall, and he felt a small sense of confidence with how you were at the perfect height to nuzzle your head into his neck.

You scan some sort of card in the elevator. It must be a resident access card. Yuta’s stare lingers, widened. Yuta wasn’t rich by any means, but he knew enough to discern what was rich. Growing up with Satoru as his cousin, Yuta knew a lot about prominent wealth signifiers. His eyes follow your manicured fingers, reaching up to press the highest floor, of the 50 floors, called P.

It was a quiet elevator ride, and Yuta allows himself a close look at you. You look even prettier up close. His eyes settle and focus on your eyes, the curve of your nose, and the glossy surface of your lips.

The elevator opens before his thoughts stray any further, and Yuta is floored when he sees an apartment sprawled out before him instead of a hallway leading to the apartment. You step out, stretching a bit as you leave your purse on one of the couches laid around the spacious space.

Yuta follows slowly, and the elevator closes behind him. A quick look around the place shows Yuta a very large and spacious apartment. Bi-loft too, he guessed by the glass stairs on the other side, as well as the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave the apartment panoramic views of the night skyline.

“You have a floor to yourself?” he mutters to himself in astonishment, and you don’t say anything. You probably didn’t hear, you were making your way to the kitchen.

The kitchen looked like it came straight out of those luxury interior design magazines. A big island with five stools stood in the center of the kitchen. Dark marble countertops, top-of-the-line silver appliances, and a cabinet fridge? Yuta gawks as you open your very large fridge whose exterior blends in with the rest of the dark wood cabinets. You grab two bottles of water, placing them on the island.

“Want some water?” you suggest to Yuta, and the male walks over to you. 

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

“Sparkling or still?”

Yuta pauses momentarily, stares up at you and blinks. “Uh, just regular water?”

A smile tugs at your lips. “Still it is.”

You grab the bottles of water, putting them back inside the fridge. You take out two Evian bottles, handing him one.

“If you need to use the bathroom, it’s over there.” You point towards a direction near the stairs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Yuta nods hesitantly. Somehow he feels even more nervous. He empties the bottle you had handed to him, trying to rid himself of the dryness in his throat. 

He follows your directions afterwards, starting to amble over to the bathroom. He thought he needed to collect himself before anything eventful happened. He still couldn’t believe it. How was he in this situation with a woman like you? You were so pretty. One of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. And now he was alone with you. In your apartment. He doesn’t know how anything is supposed to progress. You did briefly mention earlier that you had plans to fuck him. What exactly did that entail? Was it going to be like the time he saw you handling that man in the lecture hall by accident? The idea constricts his throat. He’s not certain whether he’s fearful or anticipating it. This wasn’t what he had envisioned. 

By the time Yuta makes it into your very spacious and large bathroom, he’s looking into the mirror, attempting to fix his appearance as best as he can. He’s grabbing his shirt, smelling it. He hopes he doesn’t smell bad. He reaches for the faucet, trying to shake off his anxiety.

“Her bathroom is the size of my dorm with Toge,” he mutters to himself, pumping foam into his hands. He finds himself looking around the bathroom. How much does this place even cost?

He wipes his hand off on one of the towels. He attempts to fix his appearance one last time before stepping out of the bathroom. When he steps out he hears the sound of the television running, and he walks over to the living room.

You’re sitting on a leather couch, still in the same clothes as before. There was a glass of what seemed to be red wine nestled between your slender fingers. The white halter top exposing your delicate back, that white miniskirt that shows a generous amount of your thighs.

You don’t say anything, eyes fixed on the television before you as you pick out a song to play. Yuta doesn’t know what it was, but he finds his eyes lingering at the hem of your skirt. He’s afforded a very generous view of your thighs, and he finds himself gulping away a lump in his throat that he hasn’t been aware was there.

“You’re back.”

Yuta jolts in surprise at your voice. You glance back at him, and he shifts on his feet uncomfortably. “Um, yeah,” Yuta murmurs. 

You cock your head to the side, raising your glass. You eye him as he stands across from you, his body stiff. “Want some wine?”

He makes a gesture to decline. “No, thank you.”

You shrug, not pushing the issue further. You sip on your wine, your fingers tapping your phone screen to change the music. The sound of your nails tapping against your screen and the faint thrum of the jazz music you were playing resounds in your large apartment for several moments, until you completely shut it off.

You close and then toss your phone to the other side of the couch you were on, exhaling. Then, your eyes regarded him as you crossed your legs.

“You’re a virgin, I take it?”

Yuta’s body froze at your sudden question. His eyes are large as they gaze back at you, his fingers tensing. His head lowers, his ears dusted red.

". . . Yes,” he admits softly.

A smile blooms on your face. “What’s the furthest you’ve gone, then?”

“A kiss with my first girlfriend,” Yuta murmurs.

“Cute,” you hum, setting your glass of wine down on the small table beside the couch. “Did you like it?”

He raises his head and blinks at you.

“The kiss,” you clarify.

". . . I did,” he murmurs. “I really liked her. I was happy that we kissed.”

“Yeah?” you hum, cocking your head to the side. You gesture for him to approach. “Come here. Why are you standing so far away?”

Yuta follows with a hesitance in his steps, stopping just a foot away from you. You gaze up at him expectantly, a pleased curl on your lips.

“On your knees,” you hum.

Yuta glances at you, and he doesn’t utter a word. Quietly, one knee of his sinks, before the other follows, until he’s kneeling before you. He gazes up at you with those big hazy eyes, as if you hung the stars. You reach out a hand, cupping the side of his face. His face leans into your palm, his eyes closing in contentment. Your thumb caresses the smooth skin of his face, and his sleepy eyes open, gazing up at you reverently.

Your thumb presses harder, caressing the plushness of his lips. You part his lips with your thumb, sticking it in. He gazed up at you, his tongue lapping up at your finger. You hum in satisfaction, digging your thumb in deeper and pressing your sharp nail down on his tongue. You relish in the prick of pain that pinches at his brow, and he gazes up at you, almost pleading, but he doesn’t pull away.

You lean down until your face is merely inches away from his own, relishing in his sad pretty eyes. “Is this what you’ve been dreaming about?” you whisper. “Being treated like this?”

Unable to speak a word with your thumb in his mouth, Yuta settles for a nod of his head. The sight has you exhaling in satisfaction. You pluck your thumb away from his mouth, strings of drool connecting from your thumb to his soft lips. 

He’s dazed, still not believing that this is happening. That he’s here, kneeling before you, your hands on him, his face mere inches away from your own. Was he actually liking this? Being with a woman he didn’t love and didn't love him back. Being with someone he wasn’t dating. Being subjected to degrading treatment. You lean in towards his neck, inhaling his scent as your hands travel from his chest to his arms.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” you coo, your heeled feet rubbing through the fabric of his jeans.

Yuta’s breath hitches, your words dawning on him. Was this seriously about to happen? You’re right before him, waiting for him.

Hesitantly, his hands reach for the waist of his jeans, unbuttoning them before he’s pushing them down to his knees. You don’t assist him, opting to remain to gaze at him, silently studying his expression. He’s left in his shirt and his dark gray boxers, kneeling before you.

“Go on,” you hum.

Yuta begins to reach for his crotch, hands pushing down his boxers so his erect cock slaps against his stomach. His shirt covers part of his cock, and you reach for the shirt, tugging it up.

“Remove your shirt,” you order. “Show me how pretty you are.”

The shirt’s tossed to your floor not long after, and Yuta kneels before you, his toned body on display before you. He finds himself wanting to shrink, unsure what to make of that perpetual smile of amusement on your lips. Do you like what you see? Are you making fun of him? Yuta wants to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Your hands reach for his face, commanding his attention back to you. Your fingers trace the strands of his hair, playing with them in a way Yuta enjoys, despite how he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Touch yourself,” you order, gaze drifting down to his hardened cock.

Yuta doesn’t know why his dick isn’t deflating from this situation. Does he just enjoy having you watch him? Is it because you’re so close to him? Was he secretly an exhibitionist?

His hands begin to trace his cock, grabbing the base before he begins pumping his fingers. It was a bit difficult with not much lubrication to help him out, so Yuta reached for his mouth, spitting into his mouth before redirecting the spit onto his cock. It makes pumping his cock a bit easier, and Yuta lets himself relax more.

“Who do you think of when you touch yourself?”

The question from you is unexpected, slowing down the strokes of his fingers. Yuta is quiet, at a loss for what to say. You’re looking at him expectantly, awaiting an answer. Like you’re certain he has one.

“Do you think of me?” you probe, grinning. “Do you imagine your hand as my hand, jerking you off? Maybe it’s my mouth?”

Yuta lowers his head, avoiding your gaze. He considers his current position. He was in your apartment. Almost butt-naked. Kneeling down before you in your living room with his hand wrapped around his dick. He didn’t see how he could lie to you given how his cock was quite obviously rising just at the sight of you.

“. . . I do,” he quietly admits, turning his head to the side to avoid your heated gaze.

“Did you ever think this would happen?” you ask him, letting your manicured nails run through the tufts of his dark hair. “Being in my apartment, touching yourself off in front of me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

A meek response. “I just don’t think I’m your type,” he admits. “I heard that you’re . . . with Suguru.”

There’s a grin on your lips. “You’ve asked about me.” 

His cheeks burn. “I don’t mean to be creepy about it! I was just curious about—”

“No need to stress about it,” you interrupt him, fingers caressing his thigh. His hands tighten around his cock. “Suguru and I just fuck occasionally. Do I look like the type to date?”

Yuta shakes his head. “I heard from Satoru that you’re not the type,” he admits breathily, gazing up at you. “He told me I should stay away from you.”

You throw your head back in laughter, a pretty little laugh leaving your lips. “That bastard’s always cockblocking me.”

Yuta finds himself admiring your face. The way the smile reaches your eyes this time. He’s momentarily dazed.

“So?” your voice pulls him back to the present. “Are you planning on staying away?”

He’s staring at you, the swell of your lips, and the amused twinkle in your eye. His hand slows to a stop around his cock.

“I don’t know,” is all Yuta was able to say.

“Yuta,” you murmur softly, in that low tone that has him hypnotized. “If you really wanted to stay away, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Yuta doesn’t respond for a few moments. His throat feels dry, and he’s unable to rebut your statement. Your fingers reach for his lips, your thumb ghosting over his bottom lip as you gaze at his lips. Yuta attempts to read your face. He finds it unsettling how you don’t allow any readable emotion to settle on your face. That is until he sees a satisfied smile stretch across your lips.

Satisfied with his silent acquiescence, you dip your heeled feet down, caressing his cock. With a grin on your lips, you watch as Yuta twitches in his kneeling position as you begin to stroke him with your foot, teasing his sensitive tip. Yuta pulls his own hand away from his base, gazing up at you with a hitch in his breath.

“So cute,” you coo appreciatively, gazing down at his pretty cock. The tip was slender and flushed an adorable pink, with some veins decorating the shaft. The thatch of dark hair at the base of his cock is trimmed neatly. He was cute. A decent size and girth.

Yuta clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the gasps leaving his lips. You begin to apply more pressure to his cock, and he peeks down to see that the sole of your heels fully presses down on the base. The pressure earns another round of moans from him, which are muffled by his hand.

“Continue covering your mouth and I’ll gag you myself,” you threaten.

Yuta reluctantly lets his hands fall to his thighs, gripping them hard as he moans from the mixed pain and pleasure of your feet on his cock. You resign yourself to stroking his cock with your feet, smiling in amusement as you continue your strokes.

Yuta can’t believe how he’s actually enjoying this. Such a degrading act. Your heels practically step on his hardened cock, as if you couldn’t bother touching it yourself. As if he didn’t deserve even being touched by you.

“So sensitive,” you muse as you play with his reddened tip, caressing it languidly as you stare at his flushed face. “Your girlfriend never touched you like this?”

Yuta nods, his chest heaving up and down.

You scowl. “Answer me with your voice.”

Yuta answers in between stuttered gasps. “N-no, you’re the first one.”

“Good,” you hum pleasantly. “Does it feel good? Being stepped on like this?”

Another meek nod, and a shaky whisper. “Yes.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, leaving Yuta to wonder if that turned you off. Then, he glances up, noticing you gazing down at him with something he can’t read simmering in your eyes. Then, your hand reaches for the back of his head and you pull him in for a kiss.

The kiss is completely unlike what he had experienced before. If the kiss he shared with his first girlfriend was brief and chaste—almost innocent—then the only way he could describe kissing you was intoxicating. 

Yuta can taste a mixture of cigarettes, red wine, and cherry from your chapstick. He feels your warm tongue moving, swiping against his bottom lip. His mind blanks, his lips moving against yours automatically. You kiss like you want to deprive him of air. Like you want to swallow him whole until he’s nothing but a putty mess. Your hands travel down to grip the sides of his face, and Yuta finally allows his hands to travel. With your guidance, his hands settle on your plush thighs, gently squeezing it. He groans into your lips as he touches you. He still can’t believe it. That this is happening. That he’s actually touching you. You’re impossibly soft. He swears he’s in heaven.

Yuta chases after your lips when you briefly pull away. He wasn’t aware that a kiss could be like this. Why was he suddenly aware of what to do? You taste so good. You smell divine. He feels like he’s drowning in you. He wants to drown in you. He wants to receive all of your affection. He wants to be the object of your attention.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he finds himself muttering against your lips.

You chuckle into his lips, pulling away with a pop as you pause to undo the ribbon holding your halter top up. Yuta gawks as the fabric falls and reveals your bare breasts to him. You reach for his hands and direct them to grab your breasts. Yuta’s hands were rather large, and they effectively cupped most of your breasts. He gently squeezes them, earning a small sigh of pleasure from you.

He’s tentative in his movements, gazing up at you to check whether you’d stop him. He fondles them gently, before his movements before firmer, his hazy eyes focused on the way your supple skin moved under his fingers.

“How eager,” you comment, your hands stroking his hair, your fingers tangling through the dark tufts of his hair. You pull his hair back, forcing him to gaze up at you while he knelt before you. A glimmer of satisfaction flickers in your irises, before you push his head down to your thighs.

Yuta is puzzled, but his eyes follow the very short hem of your skirt. The sight of your bare thighs makes his cock ache, and with a little grin, you spread your thighs, revealing your bare cunt. He freezes as a realization dawns on him. You didn’t have panties on since this entire time. Yuta is too stunned to say anything. He thinks back to the time in the car. Through the entire exchange.

“Let’s see exactly how eager you are, hmm?” you propose with an amused glint in your eyes. “You’ve been hungry all this time, I’d be a bad host if I didn’t let you eat.”

Yuta hesitantly grabs the smooth surface of your thighs. His chest is heaving up and down. He still can’t believe this is happening. You’re so warm. You smell divine. Your cunt looks so pretty. He wants nothing more than to dive in. 

“Never eaten pussy before, right?” you query, gazing down at him.

Yuta doesn’t respond, his mind almost blanking.

“That’s okay,” you hum. “I’ll lead you through it. You begin by teasing the clit.” Your fingers go down to demonstrate, pressing down and massaging it in circles. A small sigh leaves your lips, before you continue. “Use your saliva. The wetter the better. It’ll make it easier for later.”

Your fingers reach towards Yuta’s mouth, doused with your slick.

“Suck,” you order him.

He obeys, wrapping his lips around your fingers. 

“Spit.”

Yuta follows suit, and your eyes narrow fondly. 

“Good boy.”

Your fingers, now slicked with Yuta’s spit, move towards your clit, and you massage it in, your head thrown back as your fingers dip inside your sopping cunt. “You do it just like this,” you say between heavy breaths. Your fingertips rub over the delicate nub of your clit, flicking over the hood of the bud. “Slowly. Take your time.”

Yuta is mesmerized. His saliva was on your cunt. You were touching yourself in front of him, mewling softly, exposed all for him. He watches your red nails dipping inside of you, and he finds his fingers reaching further up your thighs.

“Can I?” he asks, his weeping cock pulsating.

Pausing, you regard him with a look, before pulling your fingers away from your clit. You gaze down at him expectantly.

“Go on then.”

Yuta leans in closer after you give him permission, his fingers ghosting your cunt, before he starts to massage the bud, his finger occasionally dipping inside. You’re evidently wet by now. Yuta still can’t wrap his head around what was happening. You were gasping before him, with his fingers inside of you.

The slow, squelching sound of his fingers going inside of you is obscene. Your sounds are sweet and angelic, and they only serve to further encourage Yuta in maintaining his pace as his finger pumps into you. He’s leaning down now, burying his head between your cunt and licking at it. He’s sucking and nibbling as his fingers bring you to your high. He is clearly inexperienced, but the desperation in his tongue’s movements more than made up for it. You gaze down in arousal, seeing his pretty puppy eyes gazing up at you in adoration as his needy mouth laps up at you. He was a starving man partaking in your essence. Your thighs quiver at the sight, and you wanted nothing more than to ruin Yuta Okkotsu.

Your fingers tangle in Yuta’s dark hair. “Keep going.”

That encourages Yuta further. By now his nose is digging into your cunt, continuing his relentless sucking and fingering. He swears you’re intoxicating. He wasn’t aware that pussy tasted like this. Or was it just you? He was finally getting a taste of what he’s thought of before. The sight of you gazing down at him with his head buried between your heavenly thighs. Yuta doesn’t even know what’s happening to him. He was desperate for you. Desperate for your approval. He believes he can have this one experience and jerk off to it for the rest of his years.

One particular suck causes your thighs to clench around Yuta’s head, a melodic moan leaving your lips. You grip his head, pulling him to your cunt. You moan softly as you grind your hips onto his starved mouth. His spare hand travels down your thigh, massaging them before they settle on the swell of your hips. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’m close,” you let out in stuttered gasps. “Keep going. Don’t speed up or slow down.”

Yuta obeys. His tongue continues at that same pace, sucking on your clit as his fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. His tongue flicks at the pearl of your clit, leaving at it like a starving puppy. True to your word, your grip tightens on his hair, and you cum on his tongue. Yuta stops and gladly drinks up your cum, earning moans from you as you squirm in his hold.

Yuta licks you clean, and he looks up, panting heavily. He looks like a delicious mess. Puppy eyes widened, hazy with arousal, eager for your approval and praise. Face smeared with your slick, his sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead.

You offer him a tired smile, leaning down so you can kiss him properly. Yuta obliges, closing his eyes as you suck on his tongue, your heeled feet gliding down to his hard cock. His hands settle at your waist, before they move down to your ass, squeezing them as you smile against his lips.

Pulling away from him, your fingers run down the fabric of his shirt.

“Take this off,” you order.

He obliges with a nod, shedding the fabric on your living room floor, leaning his body under your watch. Your eyes admire his build appreciatively, not having expected him to be this well-built. Your hands reach for his shoulders, fingers slowly trailing down the expanse of his toned chest and arms. Your hands settle at his nipples, smiling up at him before you press a kiss to them.

“So cute,” you murmur. “You’re only good for me, aren’t you?”

God, Yuta will only be good for you if you let him. He nods obediently, opting to keep his mouth shut so moans don’t leave his lips.

“I asked you a question.” The smile drops on your pretty face. Your voice is more clipped this time. Your hands grip his chin firmly, harsh enough that the crescents of your nails etch themselves onto his supple skin. “When asked a question, you give an answer.”

“Y-yes,” Yuta manages to utter out in a voice barely above a whisper. His pretty eyes gaze up at you reverently. “I’m only good for you. Wanna be your good boy.”

You hum, seemingly satisfied. “I know,” you coo softly, your soft hands running through his hair. “Tell me, what do you want me to do?”

His pleading pretty eyes, widened and glassy from arousal. His face rests on your plush thighs, gazing up at you like a needy puppy. His hips buck desperately into the air, his weeping cock twitching.

His lips part, his words almost a whine.

“P-please,” he pleads. “Let me feel you.”

Mirth dances in your eyes. “Feel me how?” you whisper. “Use your words.”

“Please let me make love to you,” he whispers, his ears flushing red.

“Make love?” There’s an amused lilt to your voice. “You’re going to make love to me, pretty boy?”

“If you’d let me,” he exhales breathily, gazing up at you. His body trembles, thrumming from anticipation and arousal all at once.

“Up on the couch,” you hum, patting the seat next to you.

Yuta nods his head, immediately rising and sitting down on the couch. He gazes at you with dilated pupils, breaths heavy as you push his pants down, letting it pool at his feet.

You rise before him, pushing your skirt up. Your head cocks to the side, gazing down at him in amusement as you straddle him. Your sopping wet cunt brushes against his flushed cock, and Yuta’s body is trembling at the brief contact.

“Is this what you wanted?” you coo softly, rubbing the lips of your cunt against his cock.

Yuta’s body trembles beneath you on the couch. His chest heaves up and down, his eyes glistening as he gazes up with you.

“Y-yes,” he babbles out breathily. “P-please. Please. Want you. Want to feel you. Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” you whisper into his ear, leaning down to pepper feathery kisses on his neck. Your soft hand reaches down, gripping his base, aligning him properly.

Yuta’s stomach dips in anticipation, his thighs quivering as he feels his tip pressing against the slick lips of your pussy. You smile wryly into his neck as you slide down onto him.

All the air is knocked out of Yuta’s chest. His dreamy eyes roll into the back of his head. Warmth. Overwhelming warmth. It wraps around everywhere. And so tight. It grips him so tight he swears he's ascending. It was nothing compared to his hand. The weight of your body on top of him. The tickle of your hair. The sensation of your soft lips pressing to his neck. You smelled divine. You felt divine. It was too much. Your walls are pulsing around him. It was warm. Yuta swears he’s on fire.

Yuta whines.

You hum softly at the stretch, pulling back to look at his face. Yuta’s face is flushed red, his eyes glassy and lost, utterly debauched.

“Feels good?” you coo softly.

He nods his head weakly. “Y-yes,” he mumbles faintly, almost incoherent. He sounds like he’s on the verge of sobbing. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper softly, resting your hands around his neck, tangling in the locks of his hair.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you’re moving your hips. You watch in delight as Yuta’s mewling and gasping beneath you. His hands shakily hold onto your gyrating hips. White hot pleasure fills his vision. He’s sputtering, mewling, whining like a needy puppy. It’s too much. Way too much. Hot tears prick his blown out eyes. That heat simmers in his stomach, a familiar coil snapping.

He cries out pathetically as he cums immediately. Your sneer deepens as you feel the thick strings filling you.

Yuta’s head slumps back on the leather couch, exhaling heavily.

Your hand rests at the juncture of his throat, pressing down. Your voice is a low snarl. “Did I give you permission to cum?” 

Yuta’s glassy eyes flicker up to you in panic. His soft lips part, his body flushed prettily.

“‘m s-sorry,” he whispers out, his voice cracking faintly. “I couldn’t—it was too g-good—I’m sorry I couldn't hold back.” He’s crying now, tearing up as he gazes up at you. “P-please forgive me.”

You roll your hips. Yuta’s eyes widen, a sharp gasp leaving his lips. Extreme sensitivity runs through his limbs, sending him into overdrive. He whines, his hips stuttering as you ride his poor cock.

“I-it’s too m-much,” he whines out, crying so pathetically, so prettily. “P-please, I can’t–hah!”

“You’ll shut up and take it,” you scowl, riding him. You bounce on his cock, moaning softly. “You wanted to cum without telling me? This is your punishment.”

“F-forgive me,” Yuta mewls softly, his hands trembling in a weak attempt to slow down the movement of your hips. But he’s lost at this point. “Please. I-I just wanted to be—ngh—good for you.”

“Yeah?” you whisper breathily. “Wanna be good for me? Then stay fucking still. You wanted to cum, didn’t you? Go on.” Your hands pull at his hair. “Cum again.”

Yuta’s sobbing by now, his hands gripping onto the flesh of your hips as you rode him. Used him like a fucking dildo. It was too much. Way too much. Yuta’s mind was blank. It was overwhelming. The clamping of your walls. The slick pooling down his shaft. The creamy mess of his cum swirling inside of you.

“I-I can’t!” he cries out.

Your hands tighten around his neck, applying pressure to the juncture of his windpipe. Yuta’s eyes roll back into his head. His stomach was tensing. His chest heaving. His cock being hugged by the tight and plush embrace of your cunt’s walls. It was so good it was bordering on painful. This isn't making love. This was far from it. 

“You’re going to fucking cum,” you snarl.

Yuta’s hot tears stains his flushed cheeks, his lips trembling as soft gasps left his lips. Your hand continues to press down at his throat, before you lean in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Yuta feels faint. He’s lightheaded. He’s whining, gasping, mewling. He can’t breathe. It’s like you’re intent on draining everything out of him. All he can feel is the warm embrace of your cunt. The softness of your body. Your fingertips pressing down on his throat. Your lips, your tongue swirling against his own. The taste of wine on his lips. The sweet powdery scent tinted with cigarettes. The beads of sweat forming between your warm bodies.

With a cry, Yuta cums again. He’s sobbing, and you pull away from the kiss. He breathes in oxygen, whining pathetically as his cock twitches inside of you, filling you. You moan softly, clamping down on his walls. 

Yuta’s head slumps back against the couch. The fringes of his dark hair stick to his forehead, beads of sweat running down his face. His eyes are blurry, both from his tears and sweat. 

You admire the sight of him. So weak. So pathetic. So pliant.

He looks so pretty like this. Crying. Those pretty puppy eyes, lined by bags, irises blown wide, gazing at you as if you were a walking goddess.

You lean in, licking up the tears on his cheek. You relish in the salty taste, the faraway haze in Yuta’s eyes. How his thick lashes flutter slowly.

Slowly, you lift yourself off of him. Yuta hisses in sensitivity as his cock drags out of your walls, gazing down at his spent cock. It’s covered in a thin sheen. The patch of trimmed hair at the base of his cock is smeared in cum.

“Lay back,” you hum.

Sluggishly, Yuta nods. He shifts on the couch, laying down on his back. His pretty eyes gaze up at you. You smile at him, moving to hover your cunt over his face.

Yuta’s breath hitches at the sight of your cunt under your skirt, smeared with his cum. You kneel on the sides of his shoulders, facing his stomach. You gaze over your shoulder, lowering your cunt to his lips.

“Clean up your mess,” you order.

His mouth moves automatically, his tongue lapping up at the frothy mess of your cunt. His lips are shiny, kissing and flicking his tongue. You moan softly, grinding your cunt onto him.

Your soft hand reaches down, reaching for his soft cock. You wrap your hand around it, your fingertips brushing against the tender skin. You can feel Yuta’s body jolt briefly upon your touch, his tongue halting momentarily as he whines into your pussy. You sneer in satisfaction, leaning in to kiss the tip of his soft cock. It twitches in your hand, the tip a pretty shade of pinkish red. You lick your lips, leaning in and dragging your tongue up the shaft.

Yuta gasps into your cunt, his soft hands gripping onto the flesh of your thighs. His thighs quiver as your tongue laps at him. Your hands pump him, relishing in how he whines into your pussy.

You tighten your grip around his cock when he stops moving his mouth. Yuta gasps, and despite the tears pricking his eyes, he laps up at your pussy in a daze. He’s certain he must be drunk. Drunk on you. On the feel of you. 

You smile as your hands pump his cock, watching as it twitches, soft and spent. It looks so pretty. One of the prettiest cocks you’ve seen.

You lift yourself off of Yuta’s mouth. He gazes up, dazed, confused at the sudden loss of contact with you. 

“Sit up,” you order.

His trembling body obeys, sitting up on the couch. You settle behind him, pressing your breasts against his back. Your hand wraps around his cock from behind, pumping him as your lips graze his ear. You can feel Yuta shiver from your touch, melting into you. 

“I-I’m still sensitive,” he whines out in between stuttered breaths. “I can’t—”

“You can’t?” you mock him. “Should I stop touching you then?”

“No!” His protest is quick, a sob that bleeds into a whine. Despite the burning sensitivity. The flicker of pain, he finds that the thought of you pulling away is more painful. “P-please, don’t stop.”

“No?” you sneer. 

His breath is shaky, his hips quivering. It was too much. The sensitivity was bordering on pain. His muscles are taut. His chest heaving up and down.

Your free hand reaches up to cup his chest, your fingertips brushing against his nipple. You pinch it, twisting. Your hand continues pumping his cock, your thumb playing with the slit of his tip.

This earns a shudder from Yuta, who mewls at the sensation. “N-no more, please,” he mumbles out, exhaling, his entire body trembling. “‘s t’much—mph!”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you whisper, your warm breath brushing over his glistening neck.

Yuta’s mind is foggy. There was too much going on. Your fingers pinching and twisting at his nipple, your soft hand pumping his cock and thumbing at his leaky tip, your soft lips on the curve of his neck, the low whispers into his ear.

His lips are parted, soft whines constantly slipping out. His eyes are scrunched shut, his lips trembling. He was moaning, his head tipping forward. He was drooling at this point, his lips and chin smeared with the sticky trail of saliva.

“So fucking pathetic,” you coo, your tone almost a sneer. “I haven’t even finished and you’re already fucked out?”

His glassy eyes gaze back at you, tearing up from the overstimulation. He tries to say something, but it slips out as a weak murmur, an unintelligible whimper.

Then he feels it. The tense coil in his lower stomach. That familiar pressure. His face heats up. He’s shaking his head weakly, the stuttering of his hips increasing. His muscles are contracting, his cock feeling almost painful.

“N-no—ah!—stop,” his airy voice protests, “p-please—’m gonna p-pee!” He sobs out.

Something close to surprise crosses over your features for a split second, before it’s replaced by a malicious curl of your lips and the pleasant narrowing of your eyes.

Yuta expects you to let go of him. He surmises that he’ll be embarrassed, running over almost butt-naked to your bathroom so he can pee and awkwardly interrupt the both of you. He wants to disappear, to crawl into a whole. He’s certain he’s absolutely blown it with you. Made a fool of himself all because he can’t control his fucking bladder. He’s crying freely, warm tears decorating his flushed cheeks, sniffling. 

But your hold tightens even more around his cock. Your breasts press against his back, feeling the trickle of his sweat.

“Do it,” you purr into his ear. “Make a mess.”

Yuta’s stomach dips.

“Nonono, p-please no, I can’t!” he cries, coming close to the precipice. He can feel the pressure on his bladder. He’s doing his damnedest best to hold back. “‘s too m-much! I’m not—”

“You will,” you never ask, you demand.

Yuta sobs out, his tears trickling down his cheeks onto his chest as he finally breaks. The stream of liquid shoots out, and you grin in mischief as you watch him make a mess on the leather couch. The warm liquid trickles down to your fingers that were wrapped around his cock. His body is trembling, his cheeks and ears red, wailing softly. 

You grin in sick satisfaction, a shiver running through your body at the sight of Yuta putty in your arms, crying. Wrecked. Absolutely humiliated.

“So fucking dirty,” you chuckle, pressing your lips against his ear from behind him.

Yuta’s eyes are closed shut, his face burning furiously. His body is trembling, his soft cock drooling. Your damp fingers grip his chin, almost bruising.

“Open your eyes and look at the mess you made,” you scowl.

Yuta’s eyes peel open. His rich dark lashes are bunched together with his tears, his eyes swollen and reddened, gazing down at the mess he made of the couch. His piss, soaking the throw pillows, collecting on the leather of the couch. His eyes are blurring with a new onslaught of warm, salty tears.

“How’s it feel, hm? Pissing all over my couch like a damned dog?” you hum, letting go of his chin and playing with the slit of his tip with your fingertips.

Yuta shivers under your touch, with the sensation of your body pressed against his back. “‘m s-sorry,” he whispers out, so faint you could barely hear it. His traitorous body was acting on its own. “I-I’m so sorry. I—“

“You don’t sound all that sorry to me,” you muse, feeling his cock harden under your strokes. Your thumb runs down a vein on his shaft. “You’re getting hard after that?” A sneer. “You like pissing on yourself?”

He shakes his head limply, sniffling softly as he cries. “N-no,” he protests weakly. “I didn’t m-mean to. I—“

“For a virgin, you’re such a slut,” you murmur into his neck. 

Yuta shivers at your voice. 

You shift positions, pulling away and shoving him down to lay on his back on the couch. He falls back with a soft thud, his wide teary eyes gazing up at you. His cock stands tall, and you regard him with a sneer as you hover above him, gripping his cock and aligning it with your cunt. You rub his flushed tip against the lips of your pussy, relishing in how his expression falters, how soft sighs leave his lips.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you coo, watching how his pretty eyes gaze up at you, misty with tears. “So pathetic.” You sink down on him, gasping softly at the intrusion, but your eyes remain trained in how Yuta’s eyes blow wide, how his lips part, how his brow furrows, how his hand balls into fists. 

“‘m n-not—“

“You like this, don’t you?” you purr, his words dying in his throat as you roll your hips, watching how he thrashes in sensitivity, his thighs stuttering under you. “Being used like a dildo.”

You throw your head back, moaning softly as you rock your hips. You drag his cock through your spongy walls, relishing in how it curves and bends, sticking and rubbing against you. Yuta whimpers beneath you, gasping out as you use him without a care. He’s throbbing with sensitivity, but he can’t bring himself to stop. His eyes drink up the sight of your pleased expression, your soft lips parted as you moan softly, dragging his weeping cock in and out of your walls with slow strokes.

This isn’t making love, Yuta thinks through teary eyes, but it felt heavenly. His hips buck up into you as you ride him, addicted to the feeling of your warm and tight cunt.

There’s no love in this, but he thinks he just might grow to love you. The sight of you riding him, how your pretty breasts bounce, how your pretty face twists as you use him for your own pleasure—it was too much. His spent, misty eyes gaze up at you, white prickling his vision from the extreme sensations.

There’s no love in the way you ride him, the way your fingers come down to grip his beaded face. His dark fringes stick to his forehead, his body glistening. You lean down, continuing to fuck yourself using his cock, parting his mouth with your thumb. A cruel smile stretches on your lips, and even through the hazy pleasure, Yuta thinks you look beautiful. You spit in his mouth, watching as the glob of spit gathers on his tongue. Yuta cries out softly, still tearing up, but you see the way his throat swallows. How he takes it all. All that you give him.

This isn’t making love, but Yuta’s cumming again, sobbing out your name as he comes deep inside of you.

“—to Yuta? Earth to Yuta? Hello?” A voice slowly fades in from a dull ringing in his hazy head, snapping Yuta out of his reverie.

He blinks rapidly, rousing himself from his disoriented state, suddenly remembering that he was at a cafe near the university with his roommate, Toge. Yuta glances down at his opened laptop, the cursor of an opened Word document blinking back at him. He was doing an assignment for one of his elective classes, though he didn’t have much progress done. 

“Dude, your coffee’s been ready at the counter for like ten minutes,” Toge says, his brows pinched together. His face is illuminated by the screen of his own laptop before him. He tilts his head, appraising his friend who sat across from him. “You okay?”

Yuta slowly nods his head. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” He rises from his seat, trying to offer his friend a reassuring smile. “I just haven’t slept well because of the exams coming up.”

A half-truth, really. He was both occupied with both the exams looming over him, and the haunting visage of your pretty face gazing—no, sneering—down at him as you sank down on his cock. 

Toge gives his friend an odd look, but to Yuta’s relief, doesn’t press further. Yuta exhales, making his way over to the coffee counter, apologizing softly to the worker who he presume has been calling his name periodically for the past several minutes as he retrieves his warm cup of coffee.

It’s been a week since he last saw you. Since that fateful evening occurred. Yuta hasn’t stopped thinking about it since then. He also hasn’t heard of you since. Your social media accounts were all private. You hadn’t offered him your number, either. He had no way of contacting you. 

He sighs softly to himself, ambling back to sit across his friend with his hot caramel macchiato. He blinks at his dark laptop screen, and he logs in again. He brings his lips to his coffee cup, his tired eyes gazing out at the window of the booth they sat next to.

His lips still, his breath catching in his throat as he catches the familiar white snowy tufts of hair belonging to none other than his cousin, walking on the street.

Satoru Gojo was dressed in a black turtleneck, stretched around his broad shoulders and toned frame, dark gray slacks adorning his long legs, to black leather loafers. He had one strong arm wrapped around the waist of a woman walking next to him. They slow to a stop, and the woman takes her ringing phone out of her purse. When the woman turns to the side, pulling away briefly from Satoru’s clingy touches, Yuta’s throat dries up.

It was you.

Your lips were moving, speaking to the person on the phone. Satoru’s large hands trail down from behind you, resting at the swell of your hips. He’s almost clingy, a small pout on his face as you continue your phone call. Yuta can almost hear the complaint tumbling from the snowy-haired man’s lips. Your face is passive as he does so, gazing out to the side. Your lips part, conversing absentmindedly, before your eyes bore past the window of the cafe.

Yuta stills on his seat in the cafe’s booth as you make direct eye contact. Your pretty eyes widen slightly for the briefest moment at the sight of him, before they narrow fondly. A small, languid smile stretches on your plush lips. Yuta’s chest pumps erratically, his stomach sinking. 

Satoru stands behind you, none the wiser to the clandestine look you were exchanging with Yuta, his head lowering into your neck. His long fingers toy with the belt loops of your mini skirt.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

a part 2 of Absolutely Not! thanks

Absolutely Not! Prt II

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Demon Reader

A/N: Prt1 Really didn’t know what to do for another part so just a little catnip cop out. Hope you still enjoy it! Word Count: 1,436

Uzui couldn’t believe what buzzkills the other Hashiras were.

“Come on, it’ll be funny! Don’t you wanna see what’ll happen?”

It’s inappropriate, it’s in bad taste, that’s dumb, not worth my time, I’m an unflashy unfun loser blah blah blah. Not even Rengoku would join in, although that should not have been that surprising.

Well, Uzui would have fun on his own then. He wasn’t sure if it would work… but he was down for a little experiment. Kochou couldn’t be mad at him for a little joke if it was for science, right?

He smirked at the small potted plant in his hands. All he had to do was sneak this to the cat demon and watch the chaos unfold. How could no one else be curious if catnip would be effective on a cat demon?

Uzui silently navigated the halls, snooping around for the demon. The demonic presence she had was weak, so it was difficult to pinpoint exactly where she was. But he could feel that he was getting closer. He smiled, got ready to put on the charm, and turned the corner, running right into… Shinobu.

“Uzui-san,” she blinked, mildly surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Kochou, hey!” He kind of wanted to avoid her if he could help it, but given that she kind of had a demonic aura about her at the moment, he never stood a chance, “Do you know that you’re giving off a demonic energy? Kinda weird.”

Shinobu sighed, “No, I didn’t know that, but given how many head bumps (Y/n) insists on giving me, I am not surprised. Now why are you here? You look perfectly healthy.”

“What? Can’t a Hashira pay a fellow Hashira a visit?”

“They can, but you never visit me unless you need something. What do you have behind your back?”

“Oh, what? This?” Uzui presented the plant as if it was the most unassuming thing in the world, “My wives picked it out. Just a little thank you for when you took care of Hinatsuru when she was sick. I told ‘em I thought it was kinda unflashy but they thought the little purple flowers were cute so, here you go! Put it somewhere everyone can enjoy, yeah?” He put the pot into Shinobu’s hands.

“Uzui-san,” Shinobu twirled the potted plant in her hands, “do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Huh?”

“I know what you’re doing. This is nepetalactone, catnip.“ Shinobu was still all smiles, but an unmistakable shadow seemed to fall over her eyes. “Just what were you hoping to accomplish here?”

“H-hey— I didn’t know!” Uzui waved in hands defensively, “Like I said, my wives—“

“Your wives had already gifted me a lovely fruit basket a few days ago.”

“Well would you look at the time! I better go home, nice talking with you, Kochou!” And in a puff of smoke he was gone, leaving Shinobu alone with the catnip.

“He is much too old to be acting like such a child.” Shinobu shook her head in disbelief.

She looked back down at the plant and sighed. Now what was she going to do with this? Tea might be good, but she really didn’t want to risk exposing (Y/n) to the catnip in any form… no matter how curious she was about how she would react.

“To the woods with you then.” She decided, making her way through the mansion to the nearest door to the outside. As long as she didn’t run into (Y/n) along the way, all would be fi—

“Get out of Shinobu-sama’s house!” (Y/n) hissed as she skidded around the corner.

“Ah!” Shinobu hopped from one foot to the other as a chipmunk scurried between her legs and zoomed down the hall.

Having not seen Shinobu, (Y/n) ran into her before she could stop herself and they both fell to the ground. The pot upturned in the fall, covering them both in plant debris and soil.

“Oh no, Shinobu-sama, are you okay? I’m sorry! Someone left a door open somewhere and a chipmunk got in, but don’t worry I’ll… I’ll… oh, what is this?” She asked almost sluggishly rolling a leaf between her fingers. Shinobu snatched her wrist to make her stop.

“(Y/n), we must wash this off immediately, do you understand? Oof!”

(Y/n) face planted into Shinobu’s chest and the loudest purr Shinobu had ever heard from the demon began to rumble through her.

“(Y/n), are you okay? We should really get up.”

Slowly, (Y/n) rose her head and all Shinobu could see was a black abyss, her irises had been completely swallowed up by her pupils, something Shinobu had never seen to this severity. Sometimes when (Y/n) saw a bird through the window or she got the zoomies, her pupils would round out, but never to this extent.

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu tested again.

(Y/n) didn’t answer her, but her purring did get louder. She flopped back down and began rolling around nuzzling Shinobu every other roll across her body, further smushing the catnip as well.

Shinobu wanted to be serious, they were in the middle of the hall and covered in dirt, but she couldn’t help but chuckle as the cuddle attack persisted, (Y/n) leapt on top of her and attached to her back when she tried to get up.

Suddenly (Y/n) stiffened, alerting Shinobu to look ahead down the hall. The chipmunk was back.

“Kekekekeke!” (Y/n) clicked, bracing herself against Shinobu’s back in a hunting stance.

“Don’t you dare use me as a starting block. If you are going to act more cat than demon, then you had better shift before you cause any real damage.” Shinobu warned.

But (Y/n) wasn’t in a very rational state of mind to heed that warning. She sprung off of Shinobu’s back and chased after the chipmunk on all fours, slipping and tumbling multiple times because of the restrictiveness of her kimono.

“Oh no,” Shinobu got to her feet as well, mentally apologizing to whoever would have to clean the mess on her behalf, “(Y/n), come back! You better not eat it!”

With how hepped up she was in catnip, Shinobu was worried she’d hurt herself or someone else on accident so she couldn’t leave her alone. She ran after (Y/n) and it was thankfully not to hard to catch up to her. With her terrible coordination at the moment, she kept banging into walls and slipping on the floor. Shinobu tackled her and pinned her to the ground, trying to block the fleeing chipmunk from (Y/n)’s view. She really hoped someone else would take care of the little pest.

(Y/n) struggled and wiggled against Shinobu for a moment, but another hit of that sweet, sweet catnip had her docile as a lamb again before long and the purring started up again.

“There we go… just relax.” Shinobu lightly scratched behind (Y/n)’s ears, a known favorite spot, she smiled when (Y/n) snuggled into her hand and closed her eyes.

Then the cat demon began to shrink, but having seen the process on multiple occasions, Shinobu didn’t flinch. With an amused breath, she untangled the cat from the bundle of clothes and neatly folded said clothes before setting the cat on top of the pile and taking the whole thing in her arms.

“Let’s get you to bed so you’ll have a safe place to rest while this wears off.”

Shinobu placed (Y/n) on the bed and then got to work, placing all the contaminated clothes into the wash and putting on something fresh. She laid out a new kimono for (Y/n) as well to wear once she awoke. Then she took a moment to watch her sleep, all curled up in a ball.

Part of Shinobu really wanted to go to Uzui’s house and put laxatives in his afternoon tea, but in the other hand, a dusting of blush highlighted Shinobu’s cheeks, the over-excited cuddling had been rather sweet, pleasant even. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to grow a little catnip in the herb garden from now on. In smaller doses she could probably get the cuddly ratio she would like best.

Of course (Y/n) was rather cuddly normally, but Shinobu had felt a little jealous since Mitsuri came to visit a few days ago. Mitsuri was a cat whisperer and that extended to cat demons as well apparently. Shinobu would have liked more reassurance that (Y/n) liked her more, but of course she was too stubborn to tell the demon as much. The next time Mitsuri came to visit, Shinobu would have a secret weapon up her sleeve to keep the cuddles to herself.

[louellaby]

FORGET-ME-NOT

REPLACED!MC AU

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

W A R N I N G

May contain bad grammar, limited vocabulary, and OOC characters. Please mind that English is not my first language, and it takes a lot of courage for me to post due to my anxiety and paranoia.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

taglist: @books-and-catears @owl778 @yourlocalgrass @kaiserkisser @hhurric4ne @amberheavendremurr @yu-ulda @bk-4-trash-fire

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER I | CHAPTER II | CHAPTER III | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER IV | CHAPTER V | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER VI | CHAPTER VII | CHAPTER VIII | CHAPTER IX | CHAPTER X | LOUE'S LETTER | EPILOGUE

F I N A L C H A P T E R

「 Forget-Me-Not 」

"M—MC...?! Wh-What are you doing back here in the Devildom? Aren't you supposed to be in the human world?!"

Everyone's eyes were fixed on Soley as she tried her best not to panic at the sight of you. Then, she set her gaze on Lucifer.

He saw the expectant look in her eyes as she was clearly pleading for help. She wanted him to shield her with his body, just like how he protected her from harm multiple times before. She wanted him hold her tightly against him and stroke her head while he questioned you about your unexpected appearance.

But nothing like that happened.

Lucifer didn't move an inch.

"What am I doing here?" You repeated her question as if it was the most stupidest thing you've ever heard. "I am the proud owner of this mansion, you see. Of course, I haven't had it built myself. This was a gift from Dia."

The prince walked into view and stood to your right while his butler Barbatos followed suit and stood to your left. Diavolo had a smile on his face. It was you who put it there the moment you said you were proud of the property.

The three of you walked down the stairs of the hall balcony so you could face the others on the same level. "I haven't left the realm at all, Soley. You clearly didn't know your place, and you still don't, so I thought I could... help you see it."

"You were too wrapped up in your own fantasies about being the only one who's loved that you didn't even notice you were being brought straight into a trap."

"W-Wait.. you mean.. since when—"

"Did you really think they're here to celebrate your birthday after the way you treated their beloved family?"

"I hope you don't mean you." She spat, rolling her dainty little fists. "You're not their family. You're just a human they didn't care enough for."

You smiled in response. She was finally starting to show her true colours.

"You see, that's where you're wrong, Soley." You took a step towards her, an action that made her take a step back. The anxious look on her face fueled you, making you grin like a mad person. The brothers did nothing but watch. They were all looking at you, completely proud of their precious human.

"I've always been their family even before anyone knew it. They care about me more than they made you think they care about you. Remember that in this place, Soley, you're nothing but a powerless little ant surrounded by a group of children with magnifying glasses."

The more you approached her, the more she stepped back. Her mind kept racing, trying to figure out every step of your plan. Too bad for her that you're already at the very last step.

Because she was distracted, she tripped over her own feet and stumbled on the marble flooring, yelping in pain. By the time she opened her eyes and came to, you were already standing in front of her, towering over her helpless figure. You could all hear her breathing getting more desperate; it was echoing through the halls. As she trembled in your gaze, she failed to realise that she was already surrounded by the same demons who made her believe she was special. Mammon and Satan were right behind her, waiting for you to give command.

You held your staring contest with Soley, ending in her failure as she tried to hold back her tears. She tried to look around for a way to escape.

That's when she realised her situation.

"Y-You can't hurt me! Any one of you! I'm important to the Devildom!" She exclaimed, glaring at everyone but mostly at you.

You knelt down in front of her with an amused expression on her face and asked, "Is that so? Please tell me your worth in this realm."

"I'm an exchange student of Diavolo! He said that I'm protected as long as I'm in the Devildom!"

"And who were supposed to be your protectors, hmm?" You added, smiling warmly as if to mock her. She tried to think of something when she realised the very answer to your question.

"That's right, Soley. The Seven Rulers of the Devildom and the ambassador from the Human Realm. Those eight were supposed to be your knights in shining armour; to take care of your every need and protect you when harm comes. But... they can't really do all that when they're the ones hunting you down, now can they?"

Soley felt small. She tried to hide her furious trembling, but she couldn't. Even her own body betrayed her. As she hung her head to keep you from seeing her pooling tears, she croaked, "S-Since when have you been... been planning th-this..?"

Her eyes widened, her head tilted upwards, and all eyes were suddenly directed at the source of someone's laughter— yours. You apologised for the sudden giggle and stared at Soley's watered green orbs. "I guess I can tell you now since, well, we're all trying to be nice here."

"You're not being nice here at all, MC."

"Now, now, Soley. There is no need to point out the obvious. I'm about to answer your question, so it's best if you just shut up and listen to me."

Silence fell onto the girl. Her eyes were focused on yours, waiting for you to continue talking. You were amused by how cooperative she was being, so you thought to reveal what you had been planned from the very beginning.

"I don't have a good feeling about that human," Mammon mentioned once again as he kept pacing back and forth. The others in the room, his younger brothers, just ignored his pacing and gathered all their thoughts.

"Isn't it obvious?" Levi asked, which got everyone's attention. The demon didn't look up from his game console and just kept talking. "That human doesn't like MC, or any of us for that matter."

"Levi's right." The fourth-born leaned back on his chair and nodded along with his brother's comment. "It's certainly possible that she'll do something to MC."

"What?!" Beel panicked, almost dropping his food. His twin brother, who was resting his head on Beel's lap, woke up because of Satan's statement.

"Do you think she'll really do that here?"

"Hey, by "do something to MC", I didn't mean she'll hurt them. At least not physically." The six of them shared worried glances before someone entered the room. It was you.

"MC, did you..."

"I heard every word from the beginning, Satan, and I agree with you. Soley was jealous, and it was clear as day when I went out with her earlier. She tried to ask me for help getting along with you guys, and I'm warning you that she'll be hanging around you all in the upcoming days, maybe even for the whole year."

"What?! MC, you can't do that to us!"

"Yeah, we don't want to be stuck with her! Especially not for a whole year!"

"Guys, I need your help here. I need to show her that I'm not someone she can mess with. And certainly not someone she can replace."

"S-So, everyone— everything.. they were all—"

"—lies, yes." You cut her off with a nod and an amused smile. "Ever since that day, the day we last went out together, everything had been planned by me. Of course, I can't really take all the credit; all of the demon brothers, as well as Diavolo and Barbatos; they all helped prepare everything. It wasn't scripted or anything, but it was all done as it should be. Would you like for me to list them all?"

"No, ple—"

"First, the brothers making you feel like you were the most special person to them. I'm sorry, but in all honesty, they couldn't bear your presence. None of us could. I'm impressed that they managed to continue their act for almost a year."

"Of course, MC! We didn't want to disappoint you!"

"Thank you! I'm so proud of all of you!"

"Wh—

"Hush now, Soley, I'm not done talking." You snapped and continued counting with your fingers. "Second, the brothers made you think that I was no longer important to them by stopping to be around me. It hurt all of us, but it will all be worth it by the end of today."

"What do you mean by th—"

"I said, hush," you snapped again. "You're a noble lady, Soley. You should know better than to interrupt a higher ranking person." The girl's brows narrowed, but she held her tongue. You continued to speak.

"Third, the brother's overprotection. I mean, our overprotection of you. You know that we tried to keep you safe, right? Of course, we needed to do it for our plan to succeed. If you got in trouble with another demon, well... that would spoil our fun, wouldn't it?"

"Fourth, that farewell letter. Let me guess, you somehow destroyed it before any of the brothers could read it. Oh, but not to worry, I sent them a picture of it before leaving it to you. I needed to make sure it was believable enough. And it sure was when one of them thought it was actually real."

The brothers all looked with smirks on their face at the Avatar of Greed, who glared at the rest of them, but he did his best to keep quiet for you.

You scoffed in amusement the moment you saw the deep terror in Soley's face. You reached out and squished her cheeks together. Her body flinched at your sudden touch. "All of that, my dear, all of it— was just a bunch of planned lies. Do you know why? It's because no one, and I mean no one, could ever replace me."

With one look from you, Mammon and Satan grabbed her arms and pulled her up on her feet. She struggled to no avail. She kept struggling, and you just shrugged it off, getting up on your own feet and leaning in closer to her ear. With a low voice, you whispered, "Oh, and by the way, my favourite flowers are scorpion grasses. They're otherwise known as forget-me-nots."

You retreated your head back to see the horrified look on her face. "So please, Lady Soley..."

"... don't forget me."

「 CHAPTER IX | LOUE'S LETTER 」

[twilight-zoned-out]

Things I noticed about The Great Gatsby that might help put the book in perspective:

-It takes place during Prohibition. Although the book is constantly filled with people drinking, the making and selling of alcohol was technically illegal and had been since 1920.

(Note: this is also why everyone gets mad at Daisy when she wants mint julep when they get to the hotel. Unless they smuggle in alcohol from home, it’s a ridiculous thing to ask.)

-1920′s humor included absurdism and wit, which combined humor and intelligence or ‘sharp’ intelligence. Daisy makes witty comments throughout the book. When she talks about Ferdie in a ridiculous way and Nick continues the conversation as if he thinks she is being serious, they are essentially joking with each other in the conventional way of the period.

-Nick is older than Tom, Daisy, and Jordan. He is not only an outsider in terms of location and wealth, but in terms of a (slightly) older culture looking in on the newer generation. When Nick leaves Jordan with the comment that he is “5 years too old to lie to [himself] and call it honor,” his insult carries extra weight because he is saying she is too young to mature herself enough for a reasonable conversation.

-It takes place after World War I, during a time when the US aggressively pursued an isolationist stance. The US did not want to become involved in any overseas wars. Most of the main characters in the book served in some way during World War I. 

(Note: This story was written before Germany began to loom as a threat in the years before World War II. When Nick calls the deaths at Gatsby’s mansion a Holocaust, it did not have the same connotation it has today.)

[edits made]

[ibims1seb]

A Gift II

Part one

TW: mentioned bruises, mentioned kidnapping, implied nudity (in a bathtub and their alone), phobia Whump, triggered haphephobia (fear of being touched), intimate Whumper, non-con touch, implied enjoyment of panic, (let me know if there is more)

The water wrapping around their body like a comforting hug would have made them huddle into it and not leave any time soon, but the circumstances under which this came to be killed any kind of relaxation Whumpee could have had. They were too aware of the soap in their bruises, the shadows lingering outside of the door and the clear lack of natural light. It was obvious that this wasn’t some sick joke. They were truly not meant to get out of this building any time soon. Maybe even never…, the thought about that stung more than the oils in their wounds. They didn’t want to stay here. Of course, they were grateful that the man, Whumper, had been rather kind, but only god knew how long that would last.

With a sad sigh they dove back down into the water, submerging them self in the slowly cooling liquid. They shuddered, not sure why, sending small waves across the surface. It took their everything to ignore the pictures of friends and family flashing in front of their minds eye, reminding them of what they would lose if they didn’t get out of here. They had to get out of here, no matter what.

With that goal in mind, they pushed them self up and out of the water. They snatched the towel off of the heater close by and nearly to squeaked at the comfortable warmth. They dried their body before taking the provided first aid kit on a stand close to the bathtub. They had absolutely no experience at tending wounds, the worst thing they’d ever done was break their arm once and of course they didn’t have to care for it themself. But now they were alone and too afraid to call for anybody who could help them. So Whumpee just did their best to wrap up the worst bruises in the white fabric, hoping that the soap had eliminated any kind of bacteria.

When they were done with that, they turned to the given clothes. It was a big, mint green T-shirt with a V-collar and knee long, slightly too big pants. It was only for sleeping they recalled, not for wandering around the mansion. Whumper probably wouldn’t have been mad at someone, who let them wear rags, if he himself was going to humiliate them by giving them these clothes. After changing, they didn’t know what to do. They just sat on the bathtub wall, waiting for who knows what.

After a few more minutes, Whumpee realised that, whatever they were waiting for, wasn’t going to come. They were alone in a way too big building with someone who claimed them as their own. A gift, that’s all they were. That’s what the man who took them had said.

“You are a gift for the highest of the high! You should appreciate it, so stop crying for fuck sake!” But they did not appreciate it. They couldn’t. And they didn’t think they could be blamed for that.

Before the tears could overwhelm them, they stepped out of the bathroom, startling the maid who had brought them here. They gave each other tired smiles and the woman waved for them to follow her without a word or question about his red and puffy eyes. Maybe she was already familiar with this scenario, Whumpee tried hard to shove that thought out of their mind, but it never fully disappeared. No, it stayed in the back of their head together with other, awfully reasonable ideas.

The hallways that they were lead through felt just a little bit too long, the ceiling being just somewhat too high and and the light felt just vaguely too bright. It was just overwhelming. Everything was. So, when the maid finally stopped in front of a tall, wooden door, they were glad. They could just relax for a little. Until dinner, whenever that might be.

———

When Whumpee woke up again, they were warmer than they remembered. It felt weird, like a slightly to tight hug…

They froze and every muscle in their body started to work when they realised that it did not only feel like a hug, it was one. There were arms wrapping around their chest, and a forehead nuzzled in between their shoulder blades. The supposedly gentle touch made them choke on their own fear and they screwed their eyes shut, hoping that, if they didn’t see the hands clawing awful close to their body, the panic would disappear. It didn’t though. They started to get way to aware of the other ones movement. The breath against the shirt, sort of protecting them. The slight brushing of the persons stomach against their back while they breathed. It was too much. Way too much!

Air caught in their throat and every puff of it slowly turned into uncontrollable sobs. They wanted to get out. Out of the grip the bed and this damned house. They just wanted to leave.

The crying, involuntarily growing louder and louder, finally woke the monster sleeping behind them. Its breath quickened and the head was removed from their upper back.

“Oh my, I’m sorry! I must have moved in my sleep.”, Whumper’s voice didn’t sound as apologetic as the words he spoke should have made it and Whumpee forbid themselves from looking behind them, afraid of seeing a smile. They had known this man for a few hours at best, but they were already sure that they knew him well enough to say one thing for certain. He wasn’t sorry at all, no matter what!

The arms were withdrawn and they could finally breath again. Their heartbeat slowed down and their sobbing slowly but surely eased again, turning into quiet whimpers of gratitude. They couldn’t believe it. They were glad that someone respected their fucking boundaries. That this man had the decency to act on his manners, no matter if he wanted to or not. They were glad that they were granted space like it was a privilege! Though, considering their situation, it probably was.

Whumpee could still feel his stare in their neck, but they did nothing. They didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement. They were forced to either stay in this bed with a person triggering their phobias, purposely or not, or to go and sleep on the ground. Biting their cheeks at the realisation, they closed their eyes again, hoping to drift back into sleep before Whumper could act again.

~~~

I have just realised that I have too much free time…

Well, enjoy your whumpy treat and I will see you the next time I get on this App. Who knows when that will be ;) (probably in a few hours though lul)

Tag List: @turn-the-tables-on-them , @villainsandheroes ,

(Lmk if you wanna be added)

Masterlist

[answithvanzz]

a quick hi from the mansion’s maids, Soap, Taco, and Clover!

this is for my ii Mansion of Madness au

[thewarmestplacetohide]

Dread by the Decade: 1940s Master List Part II

👻 You can support me on Ko-fi! ❤️

Part I

The Monster and the Girl (1941 | USA): a man's brain is transplanted into a gorilla. ½

The Tell-Tale Heart (1941 | USA): a murderer is haunted by guilt. ★★½

The Wolf Man (1941 | USA): a nobleman is cursed to become a werewolf. ★★★

Spooks Run Wild (1941 | USA): teenage hooligans encounter a possible murderer. ★½

Among the Living (1941 | USA): a man's secret twin brother escapes confinement. ★★★

Old Mother Riley's Ghosts (1941 | UK): a cleaning woman inherits a haunted castle. ½

Cat People (1941 | USA): a woman fears she is cursed to turn into a panther. ★★★★½

The Ghost of Frankenstein (1941 | USA): Frankenstein's monster is brought to the late scientist's son. ★★

Una luz en la ventana (1942 | Argentina): a young nurse is experimented upon. ★½

The Mad Doctor of Market Street (1942 | USA): shipwreck survivors are bedeviled by a mad scientist. ½

Night Monster (1942 | USA): doctors are picked off at a recluse's mansion. ★★

The Undying Monster (1942 | USA): a family's history of violence haunts them. ★★★

La Main du diable (1943 | France): a painter sells his soul for success. ★★★★

Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943 | USA): the Wolf Man encounters Frankenstein's monster. ★½

I Walked with a Zombie (1943 | USA): a nurse turns to Vodou to save her patient. ★★★½

The Leopard Man (1943 | USA): women in a small town are believed to be killed by a leopard. ★★

[meetinginsamarra]

My Fave Sherlock BBC AUs - Historical Era

Around mid-month I’ll do a fic rec list with my fave AU genres or tropes. Summaries are taken from OP on AO3.

Roman Times

“Infamia” by Mr_CSI, thisisforyou

https://archiveofourown.org/works/485828

Ancient Roman AU. After his wife's brutal murder, John Watson shuns society and becomes a gladiator. He didn't expect to catch the attention of the Emperor, Sherlock Holmes himself...

“Guardian” by PoppyAlexander @fuckyeahfightlock​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381219

In Ancient Rome, Centurion John is hired to act as personal, round-the-clock bodyguard for the mad emperor's hedonistic, philosopher brother (that would be Sherlock). Sparks fly, John peers through a partly-open door, arrows fly, and Sherlock learns the very apt name given to John's 22-inch sword. No, his *actual* sword. He's a Roman solider, remember. What you were thinking would be. . .just, no.

“Of Chaos and Calculation” by  i_ship_an_armada @i-ship-an-armada​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670600

When John is captured and brought to Rome, he's sold to the most noted ludus in The Eternal City, the emperor's. There, he meets Sherlock, auctorati, enigma, a perfect partner in the arena. And out. Sherlock is investigating the murders of several gladiators, but has secrets of his own that could be more destructive than a defeat on the sands.

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

Regency/Victorian-ish Times

“The frost is all over” by Chryse

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1614890

John was brave and clever and loyal, a commoner who longed for an exciting life. Sherlock was dashing and brilliant and passionate, an Earl’s son who longed to solve crimes. Being a Tale of Glorious Adventures, Love Letters, Treachery, Longing, Secret Identities, Deathbed Confessions, First Kisses, Daring Escapes, and True Love.

“Vows made in wine” by love_in_mind_palace (mysleepyhead)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063517

John Watson, a low born young man from the slums of London appears in the farthest corner of country to work as a valet for the young master living in the secluded mansion. Secrets, betrayal, conspiracy. A love blossoming in the most unfortunate circumstances.

“The Courtesan” by delightful_fear @delightful-fear-sherlock

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195437

Desperate times call for desperate measures. John takes a job as a live-in doctor in the most exclusive brothel in London, never thinking he would fall under the spell of it's most infamous consort, Sherlock Holmes.

An AU set in 1860's Victorian England.

“Human Nature” by delightful_fear

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907847

Rich and spoiled Sherlock makes a wager with his older brother that he can take a penniless man and make him presentable in high society.

An AU set in Regency London (1819).

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

Wild West Times

“Unbranded Air” by suitesamba

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804084

John Watson, widower, tried to leave medicine behind when he left England and came to America. Sherlock Holmes, trying to avoid the marriage his family insisted on, was sent to America after embarrassing his mother and damaging his family's social reputation. Hired to help solve a cattle rustling ring with his unbelievable deductive skills and knowledge of soils, Sherlock is injured and taken to John's ranch. He holes up there while his broken leg heals and pulls John into the investigation, and the two find common ground in more ways than either expected. An AU set in the Wyoming Territory in the 1890s, with John as an army doctor/Afghanistan veteran who wants to start over and Sherlock as a detective without a mobile phone and only John to ease his boredom.

“Buckaroo Fringe” -series (9 fics) by ponderinfrustration

https://archiveofourown.org/series/152033

The Varied Western Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson

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

World War I&II Times

“Enigma” by khorazir and “Silent Night” sequel @khorazir​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991325

It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17313302

It’s Christmas Eve 1944, and Sherlock Holmes has received his most precious gift already: after a long, dangerous deployment, Surgeon Captain John Watson of the Royal Navy has unexpectedly returned from the front. As if this weren’t enough, there’s a case. Both events make for a night full of promise, excitement, and the difficult task of getting reacquainted with the man Sherlock hasn’t seen in three years and feared he’d lost forever.

“The secret patient” by PlainJane

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953210

WWII, the Italian campaign. Dr. John Watson is left behind at a lonely chapel with a mysterious patient who cannot be evacuated with the rest of the field hospital, due to his injuries. John is fascinated by the man and his tales...or perhaps there is more to it than that.

“Rosethorne” by suitesamba

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365160

John Watson, WWII army doctor, is injured in the line of duty and can no longer wield a scalpel. Sherlock Holmes, Britain's best code-breaker, is side-lined by his own devastating injury. In a work inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett's "The Secret Garden," the two men must find meaning and purpose in a world which seems to have taken away all they hold most dear. But of course, it really hasn't.

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

1950′s Greaser Times

“Still of the Night” by michi_thekiller

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647849

1.) Curfew must be obeyed. 2.) Streets must be clear by sundown. 3.) If you find yourself out after curfew, seek shelter at the home of a friend, relative, or neighbor whom you know and trust. 4.) Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES should any unknown persons be allowed into the home after curfew.

It's a vampire greaserlock kids!

“You give me fever” by michi_thekiller

https://archiveofourown.org/works/785061

Thou givest fever when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth Fever I'm afire; fever, yea, I burn forsooth "He's the kind of boy you want to take apart."

“Go to the Devil” by JeanElizabeth​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4323648

unfinished but still worth a read imo

“I’m going to kiss you. You have the choice to push me away at any moment and I will pursue no further. But I want to kiss you. Ever since you walked into that room with that cocky attitude and charming smile. You are all too perfect John Watson. Just push me away.”

John Watson is an All-American Boy; Star of the football team and straight A student. Sherlock Holmes is a dangerous dropout who gets his kicks from fast cars and cheap cigarettes. John struggles with his attraction to this greased up vagrant, who seems to take no shame in their sinful acts.

[dino-fart]

The Hawk and The Canary | Chapter 1: The Tipsy Bison

Summary + Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Genre: Action, Adventure, Romance

Setting: The Last of Us Part II

Reader Information: You are from North Virginia and have a southern accent. You are in your late 30s. You have a scar on your left cheek from a recent fight where you were captured by raiders but made your escape.

Summary: You make a stop in the settlement in Jackson, Wyoming. You find yourself at the bar admiring how peaceful the community is. Your keen eye spots a handsome and gruff patron and his brother. Now it’s the fun game of who makes the first move...

March 1st 2038

You were on your way to the Baldwin Mansion to meet a few...Acquaintances. But you were tired and needed to make a stop somewhere safe. Luckily enough, you came upon a settlement in Jackson, Wyoming. You were wearing an olive green v-neck button blouse with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows, a white tank top underneath, blue pants, black combat boots, and a brown cowboy hat. You wore a golden necklace with a canary-shaped pendant.

“State your business, ma’am.” One of the guards asked you while you sat on your horse. 

“Just wantin’ somewhere safe to stay the night, then in the mornin’, I’ll be on my way.” You tipped your cowboy hat. 

The guards asked you to dismount to check if you had bites. Once you were cleared, they let you in. “You can drop your horse off at the stables, you should head over to the Tipsy Bison for something to eat.” The guard advised and you thanked them. 

You did ask they advised and made your way to the mentioned bar. “Cute name.” You said to yourself as you read the sign and entered the bar. 

You made your way to the bar counter. 

“Well, well, a new face, pretty one too! What can I get ya?” The young bartender asked. 

“Whiskey on the rocks.” You smirked. 

The bartender made your drink and set it down, “Say, pretty lady, can I ask how you got that big scar on your cheek?” 

“Ain’t your mama ever taught you not to ask a lady too many questions?” You smirked as you took a sip of your drink. You were about to divulge into the scar when you heard shouting. You turned around to see two men fighting each other and a woman holding back two teenage girls. 

“Aw, god dammit Seth...” The bartender sighed. 

“Nice to know that even in the apocalypse, bars will always be bars.” You smirked and finished your drink. You set your glass down and thanked the bartender. You took a step back when a man stumbled back toward you. You watched him hit his back against the bar counter. 

“Seth stop it!” You saw the blonde woman shout. 

“You better listen to her, partner, she sounds mad.” You smirked at the drunk and angry Seth. 

But of course, he didn’t listen and stood up tall, he began to charge toward the other man who was standing in front of the blonde woman and the two teenage girls when you stuck your foot out and tripped him. Seth landed on his face and everyone rushed to him. “Oops~” You grinned and tipped your hat at the man who lowered his fists and gave you a silent nod. 

“Much appreciated, ma’am, I think you put him to sleep.” Another man with blonde hair approached you while helping everyone get Seth up. 

“I’ll send you my bill.” You smirked and made your way to the doors of the bar. 

“Who the hell was that, Tommy?” The man asked stepping away from the woman and the girls. 

“She’s a visitor, Joel, a visitor that saved your ass.” Tommy watched two men take Seth away. 

Joel didn’t answer, his eyes watching your figure leave the bar. 

“Get off me!!” Joel’s thoughts snapped when he heard Ellie shout. 

He turned to see her storm off. “Goddammit...” He sighed. 

He followed her out of the bar trying to talk to her but Ellie made it clear, she had no interest. Joel stopped and watched her get to her house. He sighed in exhaustion and shook his head. 

“That’s quite the punch you had there.” He turned to his right to see you leaning against the porch frame with a cigarette in your hand. 

“Thanks...And thanks for...” Joel began to say. 

“De-escalating the situation?” You smirked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Maybe you can get me a drink sometime, Tex?” You winked. 

“Maybe.” 

You told him your name in between puffs of your cigarette. You watched as he nodded his head and then told you his name. “Joel...Yeah, you look like a Joel.” You teased. 

“Whatever that’s supposed to mean.” He gruffed. 

“Have a good night Joel.” You put out your cigarette and headed into the guest house. 

Joel watched you leave then made his way to Ellie. 

You sat down on the bed and took off your cowboy hat. “Well, Abby...You have no idea how close you are.” You murmured looking at the handwritten note that says ‘Target: Joel Miller’.

[worstvideogamesong-poll]

Worst Video Game Song Tournament Masterpost

The tournament has begun! We are currently in round 4, and each poll will be open for a week. I will also be reblogging each poll 12 hours after it is posted so that people in different time zones are able to see them more easily. If you don't want to see these reblogs, block the tag #12th hour reblog. There will be a total of 8 polls in this round. 4 polls will be posted a day for a total of 2 days.

When you vote, I would recommend listening to as much as you can of each song before voting, but how you choose is up to you. Remember to be civil in the tags and replies! Some posts will have propaganda included with the songs, but feel free to add more propaganda in the tags and replies, or send it to me in the ask box and I'll try to share it as soon as I can!

View the bracket, make predictions and more on Challonge here

View the spreadsheet of submissions here

View the original introduction post here

Read the FAQ here

Listen to the full playlist on YouTube here

Full list of polls under the cut:

Round 1

Match 1 - Lavender Town (Pokémon Red/Blue) vs. Vs. Odd Yo-Kai (Yo-Kai Watch)

Match 2 - K.K. Synth (Animal Crossing New Leaf) vs. Bad Feeling (Mad Rat Dead)

Match 3 - This is Where You Are Caucasian Destination Boy (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage! feat. Hatsune Miku) vs. Morpho Knight (Kirby and the Forgotten Land)

Match 4 - Track 6 (The Ring: Terror's Realm) vs. Fallen Down (Undertale)

Match 5 - Rodeo Time! (Yo-Kai Watch 3) vs. The Fade (Dragon Age Origins)

Match 6 - Rivers in the Desert (mito Remix) (Persona 5 Dancing in Starlight) vs. Birthday Cake (Jet Set Radio Future)

Match 7 - Let's Start the Killing Game (Danganronpa v3: Killing Harmony) vs. You've Got to Eat Your Vegetables! (Commander Keen 4)

Match 8 - Venus (Doom Troopers Sega Genesis) vs. GB Hunter Theme (GB Hunter)

Match 9 - Know What I Mean? (Mario Party 2) vs. Boss Theme 1 (Sonic Superstars)

Match 10 - Area 4, 8, & 13 (Santa Claus Saves the Earth GBA) vs. The Yoshi Clan (Yoshi's New Island)

Match 11 - Bomb Rush Blush (Remix) - Splatoon 2 vs. Mansion Basement (Resident Evil Director's Cut)

Match 12 - Monkeys (Nancy Drew: Ransom of the Seven Ships) vs. Vacation Music 1 (The Sims 1)

Match 13 - Hazy Lane (Yo-Kai Watch 3) vs. Central City (Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood)

Match 14 - Mumble Blues (Armed and Delirious (Dementia)) vs. Crazy Bus Title Screen (Crazy Bus)

Match 15 - Striptease (Persona 4) vs. Professor Birch's Laboratory (Pokémon Omega Ruby/Alpha Sapphire)

Match 16 - Oppression (Cave Story) vs. Spookwave (Undertale)

Match 17 - Nocturne (Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood) vs. Ancient Chozo Ruins (Metroid II: Return of Samus)

Match 18 - Diggity Dog (WWF No Mercy N64) vs. YZAP (Yo-Kai Watch 3)

Match 19 - Versus (Sonic Eraser) vs. Neo-Opportunist (Mad Rat Dead)

Match 20 - 50m (Donkey Kong '94) vs. Black Tar (Xenoblade Chronicles X)

Match 21 - Shadow World (DE DE MOUSE Remix) (Persona 4 Dancing All Night) vs. Mushroom Road (Tales of the Abyss)

Match 22 - Fest Zest (Splatoon 2) vs. Survival Instincts Kicking In (Bravely Default II)

Match 23 - Drawbridge Dilemma (WarioWare: Get it Together!) vs. Fight Theme 1 (Omikron: The Nomad Soul)

Match 24 - Thrifty Megamart (Pokémon Sun/Moon) vs. Metal Gear MS DOS Soundtrack (Metal Gear MS DOS)

Match 25 - NLA (Night) (Xenoblade Chronicles X) vs. Spooktune (Undertale)

Match 26 - Namco Arcade 80's Retro Medley (Super Smash Bros. for Wii U) vs. I Love Beijing Tiananmen (Hong Kong 97)

Match 27 - Stage Theme (1942) vs Red-Green-Yellow-Yellow (Mother 3)

Match 28 - Din's Power (Harp) (The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword) vs. Wildfire (Honkai: Star Rail)

Match 29 - Midna's Lament (Remix) (Super Smash Bros. Ultimate) vs. Tired of Life (Lady of Beestmeel Bro)

Match 30 - Holy Orders? (Guilty Gear XX) vs. Burning Men's Soul (Persona Trinity Soul)

Match 31 - Built to Scale (Rhythm Heaven Fever) vs. Main Theme (Beverly Hills Cop)

Match 32 - Just Leave Me Alone (OMORI) vs. Denegul (Lagoon)

Match 33 - Now or Never! (Remix) (Super Smash Bros. Ultimate) vs. Crown Dungeon (The Legend of Zelda: Oracle of Ages)

Match 34 - Heart and Soul (Cutscene) (Sonic Frontiers) vs. Dungeon Man (EarthBound)

Match 35 - Resetti's Theme (Animal Crossing: Wild World) vs. Rise & Shine, Ursine! (Danganronpa v3: Killing Harmony)

Match 36 - Belly Flop (Splatoon 3) vs. Lemon Jelly (The Sims 2)

Match 37 - mmm yess put the tree on my pizza (Pizza Tower) vs. The Moving Gigantic Ship (Tales of Xillia)

Match 38 - Comin' at ya, My girl (Yakuza 5) vs. Track 7 (Frozen Fruits)

Match 39 - Battle (Field) (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild) vs. Title Theme (The Adventures of Rad Gravity)

Match 40 - Emphasis on Scat (BattleBlock Theater) vs. Shipwreckin' (Splatoon 2)

Match 41 - Tem Shop (Undertale) vs. Character Select (Marvel vs. Capcom 2)

Match 42 - Title Screen (Tagin' Dragon) vs. Path of Pain (Hollow Knight)

Match 43 - What's Your Name? (San Fransisco Rush) vs. Pathetic House (Undertale)

Match 44 - Mine: Zew (The Void/Tension) vs. Chocobo Theme (Final Fantasy 2)

Match 45 - Versus Giegue (EarthBound Beginnings) vs. Dragon's Den (Pokémon Gold/Silver)

Match 46 - Great Bay Temple (The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask) vs. Sagat's Theme (Street Fighter 1)

Match 47 - Chocobo Theme (Final Fantasy X-2) vs. Honeylune Ridge (Super Mario Odyssey)

Match 48 - Close in the Distance (Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker) vs. Shrimp Shuffle (Rhythm Heaven Fever)

Match 49 - Desert (Super Mario Bros.) (Super Mario Maker 2) vs. National Anthem (Double Dribble Arcade)

Match 50 - Dubble Bath (DIY Remix) (Splatoon 2) vs. Fun House (Spider-Man the Animated Series)

Match 51 - Options (Sonic Spinball) vs. Welcome to Mario Cars 2 (Mario Cars 2)

Match 52 - Twilit Battle (The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess) vs. Confusion (Digimon World 3)

Match 53 - 25m (Donkey Kong) vs. Buying Goods at Palmira (Evergrace)

Match 54 - Crazy Shuffle Theme (Action 52) vs. Joke's End (Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga)

Match 55 - Treasure Caves (Wild Woody) vs. Long Elevator (Undertale)

Match 56 - Conspiracy (わるだくみ) (Muv Luv) vs. Opening (Sonic Blast 3D 5)

Match 57 - Digital Roots (Deltarune Chapter 2) vs. Lying in the Darkness (Tales of Graces)

Match 58 - Victory Road (Pokémon HeartGold/SoulSilver) vs. Title Music (Manic Miner)

Match 59 - Donut Plains (Super Mario Kart) vs. Nightclub (Sabotaged) (Payday 3)

Match 60 - Credtrap (Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill) vs. Cole Train Rap (Gears of War)

Match 61 - Tragic Prince (Castlevania: Symphony of the Night) vs. Theme of Stardust (Yakuza 2)

Match 62 - Vital (Fornite) vs. Title Screen (Ballz 3D)

Match 63 - Emblem Engage! (Fire Emblem: Engage) vs. Sub-Tree Area (Kirby Super Star)

Match 64 - Maximum Power (After Burner (Amiga)) vs. Imp's Song (DOOM)

Round 2

Match 1 - Lavender Town (Pokémon Red/Blue) vs. K.K. Synth (Animal Crossing: New Leaf)

Match 2 - This is Where You Are Caucasian Destination Boy (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage! feat. Hatsune Miku) vs. Track 6 (The Ring: Terror's Realm)

Match 3 - The Fade (Dragon Age: Origins) vs. Birthday Cake (Jet Set Radio Future)

Match 4 - You've Got to Eat Your Vegetables! (Commander Keen 4) vs. GB Hunter Theme (GB Hunter)

Match 5 - Know What I Mean? (Mario Party 2) vs. The Yoshi Clan (Yoshi's New Island)

Match 6 - Mansion Basement (Resident Evil Director's Cut) vs. Vacation Music 1 (The Sims 1)

Match 7 - Central City (Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood) vs. Title Screen (Crazy Bus)

Match 8 - Striptease (Persona 4) vs. Spookwave (Undertale)

Match 9 - Nocturne (Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood) vs. Diggity Dog (WWF No Mercy (N64))

Match 10 - Versus (Sonic Eraser) vs. 50m (Donkey Kong)

Match 11 - Shadow World (DE DE MOUSE Remix) (Persona 4 Dancing All Night) vs. Survival Instincts Kicking In (Bravely Default II)

Match 12 - Fight Theme 1 (Omikron: The Nomad Soul) vs. Metal Gear MS DOS Soundtrack (Metal Gear MS DOS)

Match 13 - NLA (Night) (Xenoblade Chronicles X) vs. I Love Beijing Tiananmen (Hong Kong 97)

Match 14 - Stage Theme (1942) vs. Din's Power (Harp) (The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword)

Match 15 - Tired of Life (Lady of Beestmeel Bro) vs. Holy Orders? (Guilty Gear XX)

Match 16 - Main Theme (Beverly Hills Cop (PC)) vs. Denegul (Lagoon(SNES))

Match 17 - Crown Dungeon (The Legend of Zelda: Oracle of Ages) vs. Dungeon Man (EarthBound)

Match 18 - Resetti's Theme (Animal Crossing: Wild World) vs. Belly Flop (Splatoon 3)

Match 19 - The Moving Gigantic Ship (Tales of Xillia) vs. Track 7 (Frozen Fruits)

Match 20 - Title Theme (The Adventures of Rad Gravity) vs. Emphasis on Scat (BattleBlock Theater)

Match 21 - Character Select (Marvel vs. Capcom 2) vs. Title Screen (Tagin' Dragon (NES))

Match 22 - What's Your Name? (San Fransisco Rush) vs. Mine: Zew (The Void/Tension)

Match 23 - Versus Giegue (EarthBound Beginnings) vs. Sagat's Theme (Street Fighter 1)

Match 24 - Chocobo Theme (Final Fantasy X-2) vs. Shrimp Shuffle (Rhythm Heaven Fever)

Match 25 - National Anthem (Double Dribble Arcade) vs. Fun House (Spider-Man: The Animated Series)

Match 26 - Welcome to Mario Cars 2 (Mario Cars 2) vs. Confusion (Digimon World 3)

Match 27 - Buying Goods at Palmira (Evergrace) vs. Crazy Shuffle Theme (Action 52)

Match 28 - Treasure Caves (Wild Woody) vs. Opening (Sonic 3D Blast 5)

Match 29 - Lying in the Darkness (Tales of Graces) vs. Title Music (Manic Miner)

Match 30 - Nightclub (Sabotaged) (Payday 3) vs. Credtrap (Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill)

Match 31 - Theme of Stardust (Yakuza 2) vs. Title Screen (Ballz 3D(SNES))

Match 32 - Emblem Engage! (Fire Emblem: Engage) vs. Imp's Song (DOOM)

Round 3