#well originally i was just playing the shadow side but they begged to see the sonic side too . and who was i to say no

[sonknuxadow]

btw my little cousins who love sonic but dont really have access to the games and know nothing about the lore call classic sonic mini sonic. which i think is really cute and sega should make that his actual name now

[lilacxquartz]

part 6 of 19 of kinktober: foursome

mahito x reader

plot: mahito surprises you by splitting his body into three copies of himself — themes: group sex, mahito changing his body to have tentacles, tongue throating, smut, anal, m/m/m/f, foursomes, f!reader — a/n: all consensual here, wanted to play around with such an imagine — w.c: ~1.6k

kinktober masterlist �� main masterlist • ao3

“Can I help you with something?” you asked Mahito who was otherwise stood right before you; his eyes so dazed yet so focused at the same time, as though wide with fleeting wonder.

“Wanna see something fun?” he asked after a moment of unsettling silence.

Knowing Mahito, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of dread nestle within the depths of your stomach. Albeit reluctantly, you however did nod as to confirm your curiosity.

Noticing your discomfort, the patch faced cursed spirit giggled to himself rather suspiciously but seemed to be restraining himself into a smoother, more casual demeanour.

You then watched with wary eyes as he did something not only strange, but surely impossible.

Even for him.

Like the tethering flame of a dry wick kissing a burning flame, Mahito slowly emerged as a secondary, seemingly separated life form. You stared with a wide, unblinking gaze as his body began to split, plopping out another version of him.

It took a hot moment for you to even process what was going on. A thought that you must have been hallucinating had crossed your mind for a second, but no matter how you tried to shake off what you were seeing; you couldn’t.

You faltered for a second longer before regaining your voice again, quizzing him at an almost bewildered tone, “I beg your finest pardon?”

“Impressed?” the Mahito closest to you had asked. The clone version. His voice was equally smooth and seemingly equally just as playful as his original counterpart.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to ground yourself while taking a long, deep breath. With a still shaky tone, you tried your best to keep it all together, but you couldn’t quite retain your composure completely, “I’m not… too surprised, actually. I’m just floored that this is even possible to begin with.”

The two of them laughed in response, both sounding eerily similar yet somehow vaguely different. It was very clearly that they both found this whole situation deeply amusing, although there was a slight inkling of something else that lingered beneath the surface. It wasn’t quite unlike Mahito to prod at your boundaries and test the limits of what you could and could not handle, but it didn’t seem to be going in such a direction.

Before you had a chance to gather your thoughts and finalise them however, the cursed spirit managed to split off once more and reveal a third addition to his two other copies.

With fluttering eyes, you locked in on the sight before you.

There were three of them.

Three.

Your mouth opened to say something, anything, but no such words came.

Just what the hell was this, exactly?

“What’s the matter?” one of them asked, their voice taunting yet somehow alluring at the same time.

“What’s the matter…?” you repeated in a strained whisper, your mind still racing to process whatever mess he had plunged you into now. Which one of them was even speaking to you right now, anyway? Was this the original? Or was it one of the other… clones?

Another Mahito that hovered near the side of the other two decided to chime in as well, “You’re looking a little overwhelmed, huh?”

Was… was this one the original? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Although, there was one version of him that was surely unsettling. The one that lingered towards the side, watching you from the shadows. That particular version of him had no playfulness leftover in his demeanour, with all accounts of his nonchalant personality replaced with something dread inducing instead.

“Just think,” one of the more laidback versions spoke up, tearing your attention away, “the more of me, the better right?”

The other one seemed to agree with himself, “Yeah, that’s right. Now you get to have three times the fun.”

You hadn’t really quite noticed it right away, but the three of them had managed to close in on you by now, walking you up against the living room wall. The sensation of the cool brick pressing against your spine threw you off a little, prompting you to flinch.

Yet, the three Mahitos were undeterred, still easing as closely possible towards you. It wasn’t that you were put off by this development—it was quite the opposite actually—but you didn’t want to admit it. That in the presence of three of him, you were flustered, maybe even aroused.

And given the hungry looks on each of their faces, it was highly likely that they all had the same idea going on. You paused for a moment, narrowing your eyes at the sight. Of course they were all thinking the same thing, surely. They were still one person—one curse, after all—just sectioned off into three.

Ah, how confusing it all was, but you were slowly losing your ability to otherwise care, blinded by your own arousal.

The middle Mahito pressed his body against your own, trapping you between him and the wall. His hand snaked around your waist, coiling down to your core like organic springs, while the others manoeuvred around however and wherever they could.

Dipping your arm below your hips, the middle Mahito continued onwards with his pursuit by pushing down at your jeans and your underwear in unison, dropping the fabric down to the floor. His fingers then closed and pointed, webbing together and morphing into a tentacle-like appendage that speared into the enveloping pull of your cunt.

The quieter, more unnerving Mahito turned your head off to the side while the middle one continued to drive himself into your body, by pressing his lips against yourself and slipping his tongue inside. Similar to the middle version, the fleshy muscle seemed to only lengthen itself, vining into the back of your throat and quite literally taking your breath away.

Muffled whines and moans slipped out of your throat as you barely processed the progression of events. The writhing pass in between your legs had bloated and swelled, pushing inhuman lengths of reach. It partially hurt, but also felt pleasurable in a way that was unlike anything you have ever felt before. At last however, the tongue retracted from your throat, allowing you to pass a low whimper on its removal.

The one opposite off to the side didn’t give you too much time to think however, turning you over towards him with an impatient gesture and repeating the actions of the quieter one—of who positioned himself right behind you next. While both your pussy and your throat were occupied, he freed his erection from slightly pulling down at his trousers and position himself at your slightly parted cheeks. Spitting onto his tip, he coated the head of cock in saliva before pressing it against the opening of your ass, easing himself into the tight position, though allowing you to take him in slowly.

“Keep up,” the quieter one murmured, the playfulness still somehow absent from his voice unlike with the other two. Something about such a development was both thrilling yet worrying, but you didn’t have neither the time nor the opportunity to think.

You tried your best to keep up, feeling his throbbing length press become swallowed by the encasing muscles, feeling ever so slightly overwhelmed at the prospect of being filled up by three of him. The one tightly packed in your behind, pushing himself back and forth in heated, almost feverish motion. It almost felt like he was tearing you apart, splitting into you with every grunted plunge.

Meanwhile, the one in the front was quickly getting a rise from within you. Morphing veins and ridges over his twisting arm, he elicited raw pleasure from filling you out in every sense of the word. His other hand focused on creating a suction-like addition, that he held clean over your clit, further feeding into the sensation.

Thoroughly stuffed to the brim by all three of them, your body began to quickly writhe and convulse as it succumbed to almost numbing bliss.

“Aw, are you going to cum already?” the one in front of you teased, although his tone of voice seemed to be almost endearing.

All you could do was give a slight nod of your occupied head, still being throated by his other self pushing his elongated tongue back and forth down your throat while the other continued to pound away ruthlessly into your ass.

Still keeping the sensation going, he removed his other hand from your clit, easing down to his knees instead while keeping his arm still thrusting into you. Propping open his mouth, he speared his tongue over towards your clit in a similar fashion to how the other two used their tongues, driving a focus on the sensitive bud. The wet muscle flicked and lapped over the nub, bringing you closer and closer towards your finish.

It was swift due to the overwhelming amount of both pleasure and pressure alike, but your lower stomach soon had found its limit. In a tight squeeze, your thighs quivered and clenched tight against his arm, while your hips stuttered from an intensely milked out orgasm.

Melting against the wall in much sought after recovery, the other two withdrew from you and seemed to fuse back together with the original, who seemed to be the one in the middle. You blinked at the sight, but didn’t question it anymore, needing to rest more than to process the madness he just demonstrated.

“Now imagine if i could make even more of me,” Mahito laughed to himself, settling right beside you to join you in your rest.

You gulped, unable to quite imagine the prospect of even more of him, feeling your cheeks redden from the very thought in near anticipation.

With a weary light hearted scoff, you leaned your head over his shoulder and felt your eyes droop shut. “Yeah, imagine…”

(Although a part of you couldn’t wait for all this to happen again. And again. …And again.)

[pastel-paramour]

Mutually Assured Attachment

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.9k Tags/Content Warnings: SKK x F!Reader, Dom!Dazai, Sub!Chuuya, Sub!Reader, Voyeurism, Brief Alcohol Consumption, Brief Smoking, gun play, knife play, edging/teasing, Oral (F & M Receiving), Overstim, Gagging, Begging, Shotgunning (Smoke, Fluid) Okay... Here we go... First original post. I'm considering additional parts exploring this strange little... dynamic these silly little men have with you. Mind the tags, and away we go!

The two of you fell tangled through the door, your collar bunched in Chuuya’s fists. He kicked the door with his heel, and the resounding slam shook you loose of his lips with a breathless chuckle.

“Shhhhh! Chuuya! Someone’ll catch us!” You scolded in a stage whisper.

He leaned over you, hands roaming freely over your breasts, your ribs, your waist, your hips, all the way down to give your ass a hard squeeze, pulling you against him, his already hard cock straining against your thigh.

“Like I give a damn.” He says against your smiling lips, quickly arrested in a kiss.

You ran your hands over his shoulders as he shrugged out of his coat, and the two of you waltzed backward into the room in a clumsy tango. When you collided against the far wall, you managed to pry your body apart from his enough to get your fingers around his belt. The buckle yielded with an affirmative clink, his zipper following suit soon after. Your own remained untouched at the side seam of your skirt, Chuuya instead opting to hike the crisp black fabric up wholesale to get his access to your aching pussy.

You slung your leg over his hip and traced unintelligible patterns into the neatly starched fabric of his rapidly disheveling waistcoat. He palmed your breast, and your head thumped against the wall while he ground into you, teeth and tongue working your neck.

“Well, well, well…”

Your heart seized in your chest, Chuuya’s eyes went wide as he whirled around, fixing his fly but otherwise leaving his belt undone, “Dazai!”

Indeed, in the shadow of the doorway loomed Dazai, moonlight glinting copper in his eyes, a light smile curling his lips. You pulled your skirt down to cover yourself.

“Fraternizing between colleagues? And an executive, no less…” He tutted, “You darling, I can understand, but Chuuya… You should know better.” He brought his hand to his face, like his voice, dripping with drama.

You shrank into yourself as Dazai crossed the room. Chuuya, on the other hand, only scowled, untucked his cigarette case from his breast pocket, and took one between his lips. Dazai’s face darkened, and before Chuuya could even put away his lighter, Dazai had snatched the cigarette from his lips.

“Hey!”

“It’s rude to smoke in front of a lady.” He scolded. Only, he didn’t put it out or discard it. Instead, he took it between his own lips. The ember glowed cherry in the dark as he took a long drag and held it, snuffing the rest in an ashtray on the dresser. Dazai hooked a finger beneath Chuuya’s choker, his other hand taking his jaw. If you hadn’t known better, you would have believed Chuuya’s eyes softened, even glazed just a bit, as Dazai pulled his face to meet his; lips just shy of touching, before exhaling a rolling cloud of smoke onto his waiting tongue. Dazai’s hooked finger tugged firmly down, down, down until Chuuya sank to his knees, Dazai towering over him.

You twisted your legs together. You had never seen this side to Chuuya before. He looked completely lost to the world, but Dazai never let an eye off you.

“Like what you see, Darling?” he smirked.

Your face flushed, and you averted your eyes in a vain attempt to save face.

“Don’t be ashamed, sweetness, I’ve learned you can get Chuuya to do all kinds of amazing things.”

“Fuck you, Dazai…” Chuuya panted.

“Ohh..” Dazai whined in mock pity, and took Chuuya’s face in his hand again, “We’re getting to that. Now-”

He released all hold on Chuuya, and turned his attention to you, sweeping up your hand in his “Sweet Belladonna…” a kiss that was anything but chaste pressed to each knuckle, “Would you like me to show you his true potential?”

You were flabbergasted, quite honestly too stunned to speak. Here was Dazai, Osamu Dazai, who somehow waltzed into this room and the entire world bent around him, even, most astonishingly, Chuuya.

He huffed a small laugh at your silence, and took the initiative once again, pulling you against his chest.

“First of all, let’s put this back where it was…” His fingertips skimmed along the hem of your skirt, goosebumps raced along your thighs as he pulled the fabric up over your hips and ass. In his wanderings, his hands glanced along the delicate lace of your panties. Feigned shock lighted his face.

“Very nice…” He teased, flicking his thumb beneath the elastic. You squealed at the snap against your skin, but still you didn’t push him away. He squared his hands on your hips and turned you around to face Chuuya, who’s blue eyes shone silver to Dazai’s copper, flashing dangerously as he took in your body, and Dazai’s hands upon it.

“Then…” Dazai continued, pulling you backwards until his knees collided with the mattress. He pulled you both down so you were seated between his legs, back pressed against him. Before you knew it, his mouth was at the shell of your ear, chasing chills down your spine.

“Now here is where it gets very interesting…”

Chuuya’s eyes tracked Dazai’s bandaged hands from your hips, down your thighs, to the bend in your knees. He hooked his fingers featherlight beneath them, and pulled them apart, exposing your thinly clad cunt to the cool night air. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, eyes glazed but trained so intently on the apex of your thighs, not daring to come closer, despite so desperately wanting to.

A cool touch picked up your right hand, laying it palm up in his;

“And this is where you say-” He curled his fingers, and yours with them, “‘Come, Chuuya…’”

Chuuya, coming vaguely to his senses, sucked his teeth and moved to rise.

“Ah, ah, ah…” You gasped as Dazai hummed the warning against your ear and released your hand only to point downwards.

He cut a withering glare at Dazai, but in time, Chuuya sank back to his knees and crawled across the floor to his place between your feet, gazing expectantly up at you.

“Now you say, ‘very good, Chuuya’...”

Much to your surprise, Chuuya, Chuuya Nakahara pouted.

“I don’t want to hear that from you…” He muttered.

Dazai only chuckled before he turned back to you, “And now what do you suppose you say, hmmm?”

Your heart raced in your chest, the wind thoroughly knocked out of you when you spoke, “Please?”

If he only chuckled before, his shoulders now shook with laughter, “No, no, Bella…” He brushed his knuckles softly against your cheek, “You are the boss, now. You ask for nothing.” He whispered, casting a sidelong glance at a scowling Chuuya; “Say ‘thank you’, Chuuya.”

Dazai’s hands hooked your legs again, and pulled them further apart. Chuuya was able to quickly shake off his glare as he shuffled forward and pressed his face to the lacey apex of your thighs. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, loosing a shuddering breath before he raised his hands and paused.

He appeared to gnaw his cheek for a moment, a light flush dusting his cheeks. Dazai said nothing.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried you had erred somehow.

“I want-” he started, only to reconsider his words, “May I… take off my gloves?” He finished, eyes sidecast and fixed firmly to the floor.

You looked at Dazai for assistance, only for him to shrug and nod back to Chuuya.

“You… may…”

He slowly, deliberately rolled each glove off, one after the other before he returned to his task. He skated his newly bare fingers over your ankles, your calves, over your knees and around your thighs before lighting so gingerly on the soaked through fabric covering your cunt. His thumbs kneaded the flesh, glancing agonizingly close to your clit, and drawing some oh so necessary friction over it.

At length, he hooked a thumb over the lace barrier, and pulled it to the side. Cold air lapped at you, as Chuuya drew a long exhale over your center. His eyes flicked up to you again to see you worrying over your lip, and that damn Dazai looking so fucking smug, before he let his tongue peek out over his lips, closing them over your clit.

You gasped, your back arched away from Dazai but he held you firm against him while Chuuya lapped at your clit, drew circuits and figure eights around your lips, your entrance and back. The sweet sounds of your sticky pussy and gasping breath echoed into the night. It wasn’t long until your head rolled back to rest on Dazai’s shoulder, which he allowed himself to take some advantage of by sparing playful nibbles on your neck while he skirted his way up to cup your breasts, his cock granite hard and twitching against your back while Chuuya eddied you torturously closer to orgasm.

“Hmmm, you two are lucky I caught up to you when I did…” He mused idly, his hand relinquishing your breast to reach between you two to adjust himself.

“After all, if anyone else had found two people sneaking around a secure area like this, they might get a little nervous…” You dismissed his rambling, too lost in bucking your hips to grind on Chuuya’s tongue.

“And you know, some folks here, they can get a little…” You stilled as the cool edge of metal pressed to your temple, “trigger happy.”

Chuuya’s eyes flashed wide, “What the fuck, Dazai!”

“Oh hush, Chuuya.” Dazai chastised, free fingers flying out to entwine in autumn tresses, yanking his face back to your twitching cunt. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full. Besides… I think she likes it, don’t you, belladonna? Oh come on, say you do?” He pleaded.

Your attention fractured, split between Chuuya’s tentative licks at your most sensitive spots, eyes still trained on the gun to your head, and, well, then there was that…

“Ah, I see…” He hummed, removing the offending article, but before you could relax completely, you heard the hammer click back and saw the barrel extend out in front of you.

“Say you like it, or I’ll make him stop.” He said icily against your ear.

All at once, you were a whirlwind of feeling, your gut dropped, your heart thrummed, but still your cunt tightened as Chuuya continued haphazardly servicing your slit.

“O-okay!” You yelp, “I do! I like it, Dazai!”

Just then, without knowing what combination of the circumstances in which you found yourself led to this, your entire body seized up around Chuuya’s tongue. Your legs clamped over his ears and drew him impossibly closer to you until he could do little more than suck your keening clit until your muscles shook and ached with effort.

This seemed satisfactory to Dazai, because quickly thereafter the pistol disappeared from your field of view.

“Wow…” He purred, you could feel his smile curl against your skin as you gasped for breath, “I was only foolin’, but I think you really did like it… Ha! And they call me sick…” His arms wound around your shoulders and your waist while he nuzzled your neck.

Chuuya rested his hands on your thighs and scowled up at Dazai, “You knew, didn’t you?”

Dazai had the nerve to look hurt at the accusation, “And lucky I did, too!” He said, lithely dismounting from the bed to meander to the dresser behind Chuuya, “You two are hopeless when it comes to discretion.” Dazai busied himself with the decanter which glistered crystalline in the moonlight.

“You should really be thanking me…”

Chuuya whirled at that, “Thanking you?! For what?”

Dazai chuckled darkly, “Oh, you will…” His voice was low with an edge to it that seemed to hush even Chuuya into a cautious, but expectant silence.

Dazai’s heels click… click… clicked against the floor, decanter in hand. He stopped in front of Chuuya whose lips were still slick with you, and uncorked the decanter with a squeaking pop. A crooked finger beneath Chuuya’s chin raised his gaze up to Dazai.

“For you…” The one and only warning Chuuya received before the dark liquor came waterfalling out of the crystalware, dribbling into Chuuya’s mouth gracelessly. He spluttered and coughed at the burning liquid invading his throat, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away what had escaped out the sides of his mouth and down his chin.

No sooner than he could breathe again, Chuuya found his chin once again hooked over Dazai’s knuckle. Another cutting glare until he spoke again;

“For her…” He canted the bottle in your direction, this time pressing his thumb to Chuuya’s bottom lip as an instruction to open.

The amber liquid flowed into Chuuya’s mouth again, this time with more decorum. Just shy of exceeding the amount that Chuuya could hold in his mouth, Dazai halted the flow and capped the decanter, gesturing once again toward you, before turning away to replace the bottle on the table.

You watched Chuuya, knowing better than he had before, crawl his way up your body. He used one arm to hike your leg over his hip, and his free hand to press you reverently into the mattress. Once there, he caged you in on either side, with his thumb he swiped away an errant curl from your face, before stooping low as though for a kiss.

When you opened your lips to grant him passage, warm, golden liquid spilled from his mouth to yours. It scalded the back of your throat as you drank it down, gulp by gulp, until your lips parted, a shining thread still connecting the two of you.

“Chuuya…” you cooed, pitching your hips up to even just graze his weeping erection. He hissed, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“The fuck are you doing to me, doll…”

In the distance, you heard a cheerful hum, something to the tune of ‘Memory’.

Chuuya heaved a long-suffering sigh, then busied himself with gnawing at your neck. You reached between you, once again flicking open the button of his pants, slowly undoing his fly, and reaching in to palm his wrought iron cock, to the response of a breathy groan against your neck as he ground into the touch.

“Please, Chuuya… Need you so bad…” Damn what Dazai says, you thought, you two know yourselves better than he does, right?

Chuuya wasted no time shuffling his pants down enough for his cock to spring free. He laid it against your still dripping cunt, hot like a brand. One thing that was different with Dazai here, Chuuya never loved you this slowly before. He thrust against you, relishing the friction once, twice, and on the third stroke he sank himself into your waiting heat. Your pussy sucked him greedily in, which knocked the wind right from his lungs.

He pushed himself off the mattress to look at you, arms and shoulders trembling with effort as he took you in. He pressed into you again, and again, and again. Eventually, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss, tongue skimming the roof of your mouth, melding with yours, before sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. In one movement, he snatched up your wrists in either hand, pinning them to the mattress as he bullied into your cunt over and over.

His grip tightened around your wrists, vicelike, bruising.

“Ch-Chuuya!” you stammered around his thrusting cock, “You’re h-hurting me!”

“Don’t. Stop.” Dazai commanded, unseen.

And like he had no other choice, Chuuya slammed into you like a crashing tide, pinning you to the bed as he loomed over you, sweat slicked, panting and animal.

Soon, like you had no other choice, your legs snapped around him, your breath came ragged and whining as he ground you down into his shape, made to receive only him.

“M’gonna…” He gritted through his teeth.

“Yeah” You agreed, the feeling of your own release ricocheting off him.

His face once again sunk down to your shoulder, and a loud groan fell from his lips as he peaked shortly after you. Your breaths mingled, and at length the two of you relaxed into each other.

Before you could fully recover, the sound of a slow applause resounded about the room.

“Very nice…” Dazai crooned.

Much to your chagrin, Chuuya rolled off of you to look Dazai in the face, but Dazai wasn’t  looking at Chuuya. He was looking at you.

“You put on a good show, Bella… Come, sit in my lap.” He said, patting his thigh softly as he reclined in the ornate chair he had pulled from beneath the window.

You sat up, skirt pushed well over your waist, and moved to stand. Chuuya’s hand captured your wrist,

“You don’t have to do what he says…” He tells you.

“Why don’t you let her decide that, Chuu-ya?” Dazai sing-songed from his seat.

“It’s okay, Chuuya…” You whispered, smiling blearily before turning to meet Dazai.

You’d only gotten within arms reach before he snatched up your arm and spun you around, “Yeah, it’s okay, isn’t it Chuuya?” He called, mocking, before raising you wrist to inspect it.

“I swear to god, if you hurt her, Dazai…”

“What, like I’d hurt you, Chuuya?” He smirked against the blossoming bruise on your skin, “I think you’ve got that well in hand, don’t you.”

Chuuya blushed, actually blushed as Dazai pressed light kisses against your skin.

“I think it’s high time these came off…” He continued, unzipping your skirt, and pulling it with your panties unceremoniously to the floor. Left exposed, you tried to pinch your legs together just out of sheer embarrassment, as though you hadn’t just been licked and fucked within an inch of your life while a most unexpected guest watched. Behind you, Dazai tutted again.

“No no, sweetness, that won’t do… Can’t hide how beautiful you are, now can we?” He chided, before he shoved his leg between yours, both forcing them apart and throwing you off balance until you straddled his thigh.

Dazai pushed up on the ball of his foot to grind his knee into your clit. You tossed your head back with a gasp as he wound his arms about your middle like a python, pulling you hard against him, so he could nuzzle the hollow of your ear.

“Hasty, isn’t he?” he purred. You only whined as you tried to cant your hips into his thigh to feel just an ounce of friction again.

“Some people just don’t know…” long fingers trailed over each of your buttons until your now rumpled dress shirt fell open, “how good slow can be…”

He deftly undid the clasp of your bra and slid both articles off your shoulders, The night air  raised goosebumps over your whole body. Even colder hands skated up your tummy to pluck at your purled nipples while Chuuya watched, your gasps and whining moans rousing his cock each passing second.

“Oh how I’d tease him to tears…” He recalled. “I could do that for you, if you’d like…”

One set of fingers trailed down, down, down just where you’d need them to be. They pet at your clit, swirling featherlight over it. The nerves there sang, pitch driving higher and higher until just as you’re about to reach the zenith.

Smack.

You yelped as a cold hand landed a sharp slap over your cunt. Again, he toyed with you, playing with your nipples, nibbling your neck and ears, thumbing over your clit until you’re just about to cum, and…

Smack.

The aftershock of your denied release rolled through you, your muscles tensed and ached and rebelled, choking a strained groan from your throat.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Belladonna?” He cooed, his iron grip around your middle barring you from the delicious friction of his thigh, your impatient grunts and whining availing nothing to you.

“Such a greedy little thing…” He continued, “Already two orgasms from Chuuya, and you want another from me?” He chuckled as you whined and struggled against him, meanwhile Chuuya sank off the bed onto the floor to watch you, pale fingers raking desperately through velvet tresses in a feeble effort to contain himself.

“Oh darling, you’ll have to work for that.” He kissed the hollow behind your ear, “Go on, pretty, give him a show…” He said, both hands dropping to your hips, canting them forward until your clit rubbed sweetly against his trousers. You shuddered and groaned, and he pitched your hips back to start again.

After a few strokes, you found your own rhythm grinding against his thigh. You unclasped your hands in favor of supporting yourself on Dazai’s knee, heavily lidded eyes lighting on Chuuya, cunt twitching at the far-off look he had watching you work yourself up.

“Isn’t she pretty, Chuuya?” you heard.

“Mm…” He murmured in dazed reply.

You couldn’t see the way Dazai rolled his eyes behind you, before tucking into his jacket and pulling out a thin blade of shining metal. Some of the light came back into Chuuya’s eyes.

“I said…” Long fingers knotted through the hair at the nape of your neck, and forced you to look skyward, “Isn’t she pretty?”

You yelped again, and where you had previously been aching, burning, like your skin was too tight to contain your body, cold metal prickled your skin.

“You should really be more careful where you keep these, Chuuya… I know you like to keep them…” You hissed as the cutting edge of the blade bit into the delicate skin of your neck. “...sharp.”

“Dazai, you fucker, I’ll-!” Chuuya did his best to scramble to his feet, only to be met with a booted heel to his shoulder.

“You’ll what?” Dazai said darkly, more of a challenge than a question. WIth barely more than a glance, he directed Chuuya’s attention to where you met his thigh. You were soaked, pussy positively drooling over Dazai’s thigh if the rapidly spreading dark spot was anything to go by.

Dazai’s lips quirked up as he, in time, removed the knife, pressing the tip against his tongue before taking the whole blade end into his mouth, pulling it out clean.

“You found a real freak, Chuuya…” He licked a long stripe along your neck to clear the dribbling blood from your cut, “Maybe I’ll keep her…” He grinned, winding his arms tightly around you again.

Chuuya opened his mouth to reply, but was soon interrupted.

“D-Dazai…” You whined.

“Hmmm?”

“Wanna… cum…” You panted in his ear. Your body ached with need, your legs trembled you could have climaxed just from the rolling chuckle he lilted into your ear.

“Of course you do, sweet thing.” He said with a kiss against your jaw, free hand tucking some hair behind your ear.

Your eyes flew open when those fingers twisted in your hair again, forcing you down to your knees as he stood without warning.

“However, I hardly think that’s fair, considering poor Chuuya has worked so hard to make you feel good, and you’ve done next to nothing!”

You winced away from his grip against your scalp, but he held firm as he crouched to speak in your ear again,

“Perhaps if you try returning the favor, maybe I’ll consider it.” He spat venomously, letting go of your hair, and disappearing from your sight.

Despite the scathing words, your mind swam on a numbing sea, leaving you with no thoughts outside of the humming in your blood and the ache between your legs.

Your skin sparked at the sensation of a ridged leather sole between your shoulder blades, forcing you forward into a near kowtow between Chuuya’s knees.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” He hissed. “Suck.”

You sighed as though in relief, like you were granted a great boon, and leapt forward to take his flushed cock in hand.

Your eyes swam up to meet his, just as bewildered and mystified as your own as he watched your tongue loll from your mouth, and lick a white hot stripe up the underside of his cock. His surprised moan tumbled from his lips as he carded his fingers through your hair, gentle and delicate compared to Dazai’s biting grip.

Chills raced up and down your back as he swept up your cascading curls into his fist while you took him from tip to base into your throat. Eyes fixed on his face, so pretty in the white gold light filtering through the window, you swallowed around his dick. He hissed sharply and another groan choked forth from his throat.

“Oh, you can do better than that.” Dazai chided, the last thing you heard before a second hand forced you further down his cock. Chuuya threw his head back with a strangled gasp as you gagged around him, tears rolling down your cheeks. You planted your hands to either side of Chuuya’s hips, thumbs fisted in your palms while you struggled to take him all.

“Dazai…” Chuuya breathed, “please…” 

Dazai only hummed in reply, twirling his russet hair between his fingers as Chuuya yielded himself to the sensation of you, kicking his feet and bucking into your throat until white ribbons painted the inside of your mouth.

“Don’t waste it, Bella…”

And you didn’t, wouldn’t dare, swallowing every drop of what Chuuya had to give until Dazai let you off his cock, spluttering, coughing and gasping through your spit slick lips. When you started to catch your breath, a cold hand cupped your chin and pulled you to look into deep dark eyes.

“You’ve done very well, sweetness.” A wan smile painted your lips at his praise, “I think she’s earned her reward, don’t you, Chuuya?” Chuuya said nothing while Dazai trailed a hand between your legs to pinch your clit, eliciting another wanton moan from your lips, which devolved into one of protest when Dazai removed his hand. You weren’t sure how much more teasing you could take.

Dazai , however, quickly dismissed your concerns, “Go on, take your prize then.” He said, glancing once down to Chuuya. Your gaze flitted from him, back to Dazai, and then hungrily back to Chuuya again as you clambered up his body and positioned yourself over his hips.

“Wait…” He slurred, propping himself up onto one elbow, “Hold on a sec- ah!” Chuuya keened as you slotted him at your dripping slit, and rode slowly over him, feeling him growing hard beneath you, spreading delicious warmth over your needy clit.

“Baby…” he pleaded, “I can’t…”

“He can.” Dazai assured.

You threw your arms around Chuuya’s neck, your breasts pressed to his chest. You couldn’t help but marvel at him, flushed, panting, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, yet another one of his facets that Dazai’s chosen to reveal to you tonight. When his hazy eyes landed on yours, polished with tears, alcohol, the moment, you found your mouth landing on his, swallowing his moans, sucking on his tongue as you ground in circles on his cock.

His hands flew to your hips, slender fingers gripping the fat of your ass, pulling you on top of him. He tried to hold you still, but the more you wound around him, the less control he had over his hips pistoning in and out of you, a chorus unbridled moans tumbling from his kiss-bitten lips.

In the end, you collided in ribbons of color, your body overwound and his undone, and you both came with trembling gasps as you held tightly to one another, a sheen of sweat setting your skin aglow.

“Perfect.” Dazai whispered.

From where he was standing, you couldn’t tell if he was looking at you or at Chuuya. Maybe both, maybe it didn’t matter. When you heard the echo of Dazai’s footsteps, you shook yourself out of your suspension.

“W-wait!” You called hoarsly. He stopped. Chuuya’s arms wound around your waist to hold you to him, but still you reached for Dazai;

“What about you?”

He tossed a look over his shoulder, an exasperated smile playing on his lips before he turned back on his heel and crouched in front of you.

“And what about me, Belladonna? Hmm?” A long finger idled with a strand of your hair, caressed your cheek.

“You- I mean… You didn’t…” Why were you suddenly so embarrassed? Like he didn’t just watch you and Chuuya come apart in his hands, taken apart like instruments, only he wasn’t the player here, he was the conductor, directing the tempo, crescendos and arpeggios into a beautiful symphony. A perfect masterpiece.

Dazai smiled wistfully at you, a touch of sincerity opening up on his face, in his eyes. He took your chin between his fingers, and pressed a lingering, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Something to look forward to.” He smirked, and took his hand over to Chuuya to tuck a stray lock behind his ear, before returning to his exit, sans encore.

“Dazai…” Chuuya grumbled, but before he could get another word out, Dazai spoke, a finger to his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye;

“Don’t worry, Chuuya… Your secret is safe with me.”

And with a wink, he was gone, the echo of his statement sounding more like a threat than a promise.

[dailycharacteroption]

Planar Scout (Ranger Archetype)

(art by thenSir on DeviantArt)

When one thinks of rangers and the planes beyond the material, one doesn’t typically make the leap in logic to combine them. After all, rangers live among nature, most typically the nature of the material universe. I mean, sure, technically you can pick a plane as your favored terrain, but it’s rarely anyone’s first choice unless the campaign is set on that plane and/or you’re speedrunning taking the Horizon Walker prestige class.

However, there are those that do in fact specialize in planar terrain, and more relevantly to today’s entry, those that draw power directly from their understanding of those planes.

Some may live in exotic communities on such planes, or may have become stranded there and forced to learn how to survive in such a strange environment that they were literally never adapted to biologically.

Regardless of the origins, these planar scouts become as intimately familiar with the nuances of surviving such locales as any ranger back on the material plane. (Which does beg the question of how or why the ranger doesn’t have to learn the tricks to survive in every single exotic biome the plane offers, as even supposed mono-environ planes like the elemental or energy planes have some variance in terrain if you go far enough, but that’s firmly in the realm of “Let’s not drag down the game with too much focus on the details.” Needless to say, the archetype does advise in a sidebar that you should break the incredibly vague “planes” favored terrain into multiple types based either on the individual planes or perhaps common threads and terrain types, such as crystalline caverns for certain parts of the elemental plane of earth plus some of the more rich spots in the underground of other planes.

So let’s take a look at what makes these scouts special.

Given their familiarity is not with mortal animals but those of the greater cosmos, it is unsurprising that these rangers express their empathy with extraplanar animals (and to a lesser extent true outsiders) in the same way that other rangers work with normal animals and magical beasts.

Naturally, these rangers only get to select different planar terrain types as they grow in power.

However, doing so doesn’t just provide the flat bonuses, for these rangers bond with a specific plane (most likely their earlier terrain choice) and gains a boon from doing so. This also infuses the ranger with the essence of the plane as well, meaning they also take on physical traits associated with the plane as well.

These boons take on many forms. Those that bond with a morally aligned plane would gain a blessing of guidance in combat against outsiders morally opposed to the plane, while those bonded to the astral get a short-ranged teleport. Those tied to the ether find their weapons can strike the incorporeal even if totally mundane, while those with links to the First World gain a limited healing factor. Those linked to the elemental planes gain anything from flight to the durability of rock to a flaming aura to becoming amphibious. Meanwhile, those tied to the shadow gain excellent nightvision and superior stealth. Naturally, this list isn’t perfectly comprehensive, but it does give a baseline for providing similar boons for the few planes that were not listed as well as any number of demiplanes.

Finally, these rangers also naturally have planar adaptation to their bonded plane and can even extend it to others, though they’ll still need magical assistance when it comes to other planes.

My biggest and only gripe with this archetype is that the planar bond boons don’t really scale with level for the most part, but this is a fun way to play up an expert on the practical survivalist side of actually living on a plane that doesn’t follow the same laws of physics and matter as what we see on earth or even the rest of the universe. If that appeals to you, I’d recommend using this archetype with pretty much any build that doesn’t center around either working with your allies or a pet, since you don’t get the normal hunter’s bond.

An interesting quirk of having a bond with anything is the assumption that the two have a mutual understanding, which is interesting to think about in the context of a ranger with this archetype. Other rangers may share a strong bond with companions, a beloved beast, or even nature itself with certain archetypes, but if this holds true to planar scouts, then that implies that the ranger has a connection to the living will of their absolute favorite plane. This isn’t as strange as it sounds, as at the very least the outer planes are literally made up of soulstuff with a specific morality and philosophy, which in turn assumes that the plane feels something analogous to sapient emotion and belief, albeit in an alien and vague way nearly incomprehensible to mortals. Could be worth exploring, whether it be kinship or just an understanding that the ranger absolutely refuses to let the hostility of the plane kill them.

A casino in Hell seems like one of the worst places to ever go by anyone with a reasonable understanding of probability even before factoring in that the house definitely cheats, and yet that is where the party must go to meet their contact. However, even getting there is an issue, for the gambling hall lies in a remote region of the Pit and only VIPs get fancy teleportation tokens to. As such, they’ll need a guide, someone who isn’t naturally inclined to betray them like a devil, but knows the terrain of the Pit like the back of their hand.

The Darkness is a plane where unseen things lurk in a realm without light or sight. Navigating it requires a proper guide, not just due to the hazards of the plane itself, but also the creatures that dwell within, including cabals of mystics that came to the plane to hone their craft, raising juju zombie servants to protect them.

Just as territorial as the rest of his people, the sahuagin Verkus is nonetheless not a vicious being, in part because he lives in a part of the Plane of Water that serves as a rich bounty and breadbasket. For a nominal fee, he can even show others the plane, though his company is not always pleasant.

[spicesprouts]

Consulting Gig

Palia Character(s): Kenyatta, Chayne (mentioned)

Palia OC(s): Vesper, Mani (mentioned)

A vignette of character interactions parallel to an RP going on, since I was playing both of them dkflmg.

Kenyatta jolted at the sound of movement in her room. Her locked, private room.

The time was hard to parse - she had managed to clean off and sling her boots across the room before collapsing onto her bed and letting much-delayed sleep take her.

She had dreamed of gnashing teeth, of pinned eyes that sought someone’s blood. Of quiet fields breaking into screams, pleading on ears that didn’t understand. Bloody gauze and Chayne’s concerned look to her.

Kenyatta hadn’t felt it then, the weight of an attack buried under bravado and reassurances. But her sleep had been more fitful than she’d expected, and the click of a door closing again set her skittish heart pounding.

She strained to listen to the quiet of her room, partially obscured by furniture and unfolded screen dividers. She wasn’t a complete idiot - she had a path clear to the door, to see for intruders. Kept everything locked and sealed. And if it had been her mom, Eshe would have made herself known with some infuriating criticism about how late she’d slept.

But there was nothing. No creaking of floorboards or jostling of papers littered across the rug. Maybe she was jumping at shadows, maybe another door had closed and she’d been so worked up that she’d frightened herself.

“Chill,” she chided herself, and dropped back onto the silk-covered pillow. She scrubbed her eyes and looked to a wall clock she’d propped by the window to catch just how late in the day it was.

She had skipped her job at town hall - well, half of it. She would not be letting her mother bully her into a half day, she had helped someone. Really helped. And Chayne had treated her like someone who knew what they were doing, who wasn’t being foolish or in the way. She help, and what’s more she’d helped Mani.

Even if the bard was standoffish, or Ken was too much, it was nice to have been able to actually talk to them. Even if it’d taken an animal attack to get more than a word out of them. It felt like they actually were cool with each other that evening, and that was nice.

It was unhinged to be like ‘oh good thing you got injured haha I’m soooo normal.’ That was poor behavior, and it wasn’t to spite her mom, so Kenyatta actually worried the point a little. She was glad they were alright, and was genuinely worried, so maybe she wasn’t fully psychotic. Right now.

“Whatcha so starry-eyed about?”

The voice was incredibly close, and came without any precursory movement. Kenyatta jolted, scrambling back from the sound before she could catch herself.

“Oh Maji - what the fuck are you-? What are you doing in my room, who?” Her hands moved as she stammered, and she launched the wooden wall clock at the voice.

Vesper ducked, sliding out of the darker corner as the clock smashed against the wall. She dropped her hood and tousled her hair back to its original side, revealing her faintly glowing scar once more.

“I thought you read crime shit; you’re begging to get ransomed,” the Watcher critiqued, far enough away that the squat she took up still had her visible. “Tough night?”

“Get out of my room, asshole.”

“Can’t. Official business, I’m afraid. You tended to the bard?”

Ken’s expression stonewalled, and her arms crossed petulantly. Regardless of her back in a corner and her bed head making her look nearly permed. “Come back with a warrant.”

“Oh you misunderstand - I don’t need one, firstly. But I’d imagine you’d want to catch the creature who was forcibly tenderizing your friend. You don’t?”

Silence. Ken’s brows drew together, as she assessed the Watcher. Their mutated, overly large features, the glowing flow scar and eye. The bags and taut skin, the exhaustion that left their good eye just that much duller.

“Fine; I thought you’d jump at a chance for investigating, considering. Or do you wanna play nurse? Chayne sung your praises for quick action last night, you know.” Vesper did not know this, but cueball was such a pushover, she could only imagine.

“You wouldn’t let a civilian join investigations,” Kenyatta countered, but her speech was slower, more suspicious. Considering.

“Hiring consultants is my choice, jumpy. Seems like someone who has… experience… with this place and the incident might be an invaluable asset.”

“Why are you in my fucking room?”

“You were asleep.” They blink owlishly.

“Yeah, duh. You wait for people to wake up.”

“You’re awake now. Get a better lock. Do you wanna help or not?”

Ken’s expression tugged into a frown. She did, in a way - it was exciting, to see what the fuck a Watcher did with such an incident. She’d be right in the middle of it, and it was to help prevent what happened to Mani from happening to anyone else.

She let out a breath. They’d asked her to not risk the sernuk - it had seemed very important to not endanger them to any revenge killing, and Kenyatta could empathize. Especially when they’d been in pain and still thinking of the consequences for other creatures. It was sweet.

She could maybe keep this Watcher from the wrong conclusion if she was there. Maybe.

“I do have things to do, jumpy; you gonna think about it or sit there some more?”

Ken full scowled, and pointed at her door. “Get out. Let me… let me think about it.”

“Don’t think too long; Mani’s gonna be on their lil lonesome once the ol’ priest discharges them. Imagine what could happen between then and catching the thing, mm?”

Vesper stood, stretching, and moved eerily silent to the door. The past-noon light hurt her eyes for a moment before the door closed behind them. She heard it lock back into place.

Now what?

[flowerslut]

5, 6 and 19!!!

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

this is so fun to talk about because I never let myself indulge in Fic Thinking Or Brainstorming because that's dangerous for me (for obvious reasons) BUT two fun fic ideas I've had in the past year-ish are these SUPER fun ones:

what if james and co DIDN'T overhear the cullen's baseball game and didn't stop by the cullen's residence until the next day like alice ORIGINALLY thought? (and with edward absent and playing the Must Be Constantly Around Bella game I think the whole 'james knows who alice is' reveal could be SO FUN—really you could go any way with this: angsty, silly, both!) I thought I would write this eventually but there ain't no way in hell it'll happen at the rate things are going lmfao

and what if alice was like "I have to WAIT to meet my true love? hell no" and after a few years she goes down south and makes her own army in a "well if you can't kiss 'em, join 'em" type of way. I just want to see a dumber version of alice who is like "I'll get this man's attention one way or another. i'll sort everything else out eventually" and she makes SO many bad choices but whoops she's good at this army business and now she's super powerful lol whoops! well, she'll get her back blown out one way or another! and if she has to commit a few thousand murders beforehand then like, whatever, yknow?

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

yes!!! right now I've been on a BIG tlt fic binge and these are a couple I go back to all the time: GHAZAL WHERE I'M BEGGING YOU TO TOUCH ME, Inversion (<- this right here is the best tlt fic I've ever read), The Heart is Hard to Translate, and beat your swords into ploughshares (and your spears into pruning hooks). most of these are explicit griddlehark fics if I'm not mistaken lmfao

and as far as jalice fics are concerned I regularly return to @goldeneyedgirl's ongoing jalice fics Jar of Hearts and Shadow to Light because lexie's versions of jasper and alice mean so goddamn much to me. but I don't read much jalice tbh because I am... so picky with their characterization, etc.

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

this is long enough, so here's a bonus roots snippet under the cut!

When the screeching of limbs and heads being removed punctuated the hissing and crying that had filled the field, the vampire who stood, watching, rolling the stone around in their pocket, finally let out a sigh.

“Very well,” they spoke, watching as their army gathered the bodies to drag across the barren land and toward the pile that had already been assembled just out of sight, up and then down another hill. As they worked in agreeable silence, the watcher closed their eyes again, sighing once more.

The stone in their pocket was sharp on one side. With a small amount of pressure, the tip of their finger opened. A clenched fist brought venom toward their palm and with a quick squeeze their hand was wet with it.

Memories attached to the pain trickled in through their thoughts. For a moment they smiled and pictured once more the two bodies that were being carried away. Their faces were not hard to morph with the imagination, their features not quite similar but close enough that there was no effort to this daydream.

They imagined blonde hair torn and burnt, skull exposed and venom slick across the head. An opened neck, perhaps proving that scarred skin all looked the same when peeled back, ripped from the cemented system that held their kind together. His teeth would be kept and put to use. His last mark on the world he’d abandoned would never come. He would become nothing more than a discarded instrument, broken down for parts—maybe put back together once, or twice, just so they could hear him scream and beg and cry—that would be used to carve into every other victim these lands claimed.

The same teeth that had once marked them, would mark others, too.

Imagining the woman was easier, and brought a fiercer fire to their chest, the satisfaction of what would be done to her eliciting a full smile from their quiet, closed off face. Yes, the dark-haired witch would get what was coming to her. They imagined what she might look like, as torn and mangled as her companion had always been. Limbs fused together. Eyes gouged over and over until regeneration ceased (they had never figured out how many times their bodies could do such a thing).

Experiments were only kind when it was deserved. Some people did not deserve mercy.

fanfic writer asks!

[halfblackwolfdemon]

I feel like, with Ra's years of knowledge and our flippancy with canon (it can and will be my bitch and I shall pick and choose what canon I'm eating at the moment) Ra's will 100% adjust how he handles Danny and Damian's continued training.

With Bruce's son, his new heir, Ra's, while still teaching how to be a proper Assassin and everything, would have him come to think of Danny as his personal guard, his "demon" to command and control.

And Danny, whose had years under Ra's, (training and killing and becoming someone so highly respected and feared) and is a little (a lot) unhinged with his family and friends' passing, will do everything in his power to keep Damian safe. He has only Damian now. Damian is all that matters. He is all Danny will live and die for. And he will protect him with everything in his being and beyond.

Ra's plays on Danny's feelings, on his obsession with keeping Damian safe. And if he sees more of Danny's ghostly side? His eyes glowing green, his fangs and claws lengthening, his hissing and need for skin-on-skin contact if Damian is hurt to heal him (cause I hc that Danny, with his ice core, can heal like the Yeti's can)? Damian has a powerful protector. A powerful beast only he can control (Ra's can tell, anything Damian asks for, speaks of or even hints of wanting, Danny will do everything and more to get it for his Little Sol, his North Star, his reason for living)

I feel like, after losing everyone he loved and before Danny asked Vlad to yank his humanity out, assassins were sent to end Vlad, since Ra's is technically an eco-terrorist at his "core" and Vlad has def done a fuckload of shady deals to get that rich that fast. And Vlad, who under normal circumstances, would be able to take them out easily, dies protecting Danny.

Danny, seeing the last person who knew and cared about him cut down so easily, just begs to be killed, too. But the assassins weren't here for Danny. They got their target, took their proof (a finger or something), and left.

Danny, in a moment of deep depressive grief, follows. It's how he found Ra's originally, and got Ra's interested in him.

"Talia, he followed my most loyal and perceptive assassins without their knowledge. I will have him. Bring him to me." Ra's murmured, green eyes glinting.

It spirals there. Ra's can fake til he makes it better than anyone. A gentle voice here. A soft headpat there. Quiet affirmations. Letting Danny 'catch him' being soft. Very much following @halfagone 's story where Ra's is intrigued by Danny when he visits Amity Park after his other daughters' death.

But he doesn't have to steal Danny away. Danny came to him willingly.

Danny develops an obsession with pleasing Ra's. He wasn't his father, but... But Danny never really had a grandpa.

A Grandfather. Ra's was his Grandfather.

Ra's is very pleased with this.

And then Talia rapes takes Bruce's sperm and Damian is made.

The moment Danny's eyes land on Damian, a new obsession forms. That child was his to protect. His to cherish. His to care for.

Ra's was extra pleased. Another neatly crafted fold to his origami plan for World Domination from the shadows. Daniel would never leave him. Would do everything for his little brother, his Center, his North Star. All according to plan.

I feel like this would pair really well with the Son of Batman start where Slade comes in and kills Ra's, making Talia send Danny off with Damian to protect him. Sending Damian to Bruce. And instead of Bruce nearly fucking Talia in front of Damian like in the movie, Danny just shows up in front of the manor with Damian cuddled against his chest.

For this I feel like Danny would definitely follow in Jack's shoes of being a brick shit-house in height, but with major hints of Maddie; all slim muscles built for stealth and hidden strength. He'd probably be around 6'6" with Dicks build:

Like this but tall af. Just, tiny 4' nothing Damian curled up against Danny's chest is the big picture I got going on in my head, wearing a button down shirt and jeans with LoA shoes.

And then we get into big plot points for the story:

- Damian wants revenge on Slade for Ra's death

- Danny butting heads with Dick and Bruce about raising Damian

- Introducing the rest of the family to Damian, who doesn't have a complex about being Robin. He was raised to be the next Demon's Head, why would he want to be Robin?

- Danny knew Jason when he was training with the League, Jason loves him. Danny is also the reason that Jason's Pit Madness was curbed so easily, but Danny didn't care if Jason went full bonkers when he made it to Gotham. Not his problem.

More if I can think of it! I now have... Ideas...

I got a take on the Danny is Damian's older brother au. He's Damian's brother but he's his adopted brother. So hear me out:

Danny is running away post TUE and he encounters some assassins. For whatever reason they get into a fight and he beats them. This ends up getting back to Ra's who is quite curious about who beat up his most prized assassins effortlessly. After some investigation, he extends an invite for Danny to train under him. On Danny's part, he jumps at the chance to disappear off the face of the earth and have a free place to stay.

Danny ends up being an absolute prodigy. This is him close to being Dan so his morals are much shakier. He doesn't leap at the opportunity to kill, but he's most definitely not above it if need be. Combine that with his ghost powers and personal training by Ra's himself and the guy becomes like the golden standard within the league. So much so to the point where Ra's even names him his heir and adopts him. Though Danny insists he is his adopted grandson and not adopted son.

Flashforward to Damian being born and Ra's obviously wants him to be his new heir. Not that Danny has any problem with this. He's very clearly Ra's favorite considering the things he's allowed to get away with. Like letting targets go, having worldly possessions in his room (TV, gaming console, computer, etc), and even befriending his subordinates (Ra's particularly doesn't like that one but knows Danny will never allow it to become a weakness for him). Even if Danny wasn't the heir, he would still maintain a significant level of authority within the league (again not that he cares about having power as long as there's a roof over his head).

The problem is, Damian can't compete with Danny. After all, who could match up to a highly trained half ghost with dubious morals? Let alone a kid. Too bad Ra's doesn't see it that way. He sees Damian as a failure who will never measure up to Danny. That's why he sends the boy off to live with his father. It's under the excuse that he'll be receiving a different sort of training but in reality, the Demon Head no longer wants anything to do with his biological grandson.

Obviously this turns into quite the complex for Damian. Meanwhile Danny absolutely adores Damian. From the moment he was introduced to the baby he was ecstatic. He'd always wanted to be an older brother. He would constantly be barging into Damian's room to hang out and whenever they'd sparred together, he'd try to let him win. Ra's quickly caught onto that one and put a stop to it immediately though. Basically Danny is Damian's League of Assassins version of Dick. An example of what he's supposed to be that he will always compare himself to (and that also has no idea what personal space is).

Danny loved his little brother so much that he even managed to get a mission to Gotham about a year after Damian had been sent there in order to surprise him with a belated birthday present.

The bats are absolutely shocked with an assassin suddenly charges at Damian and before anyone can react, scoops him into a hug. Damian is screeching bloody murder as he attempts to get Danny to let him go. Danny is just hugging him while saying stuff like "I missed you little brother" and "You've grown so much since I last saw you" all while avoiding knives to the chest.

The bats get shocked x2 because wait.... little brother!? Talia had another child!? And one far older than Damian to boot. Damian is quick to clarify that Danny is adopted while still trying to stab him. Imagine the boy's horror and Danny's delight when he gets invited back to the batcave to speak further.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Elephant in the Room

Season One Episode Four

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 2848

Series Masterlist

Summary: After their first night together, the reader finds something shocking. The team continues teasing Spencer about his secret relationship. Rossi confronts Hotch about his complicated situation. 

Notes: I was originally going to have this go over the episode ‘Elephant’s Memory,’ but I think using it as an antecedent works better. I did want to use one of the songs that plays though. Hurt by Johnny Cash is just such an emotional song and it works so well in that episode, I wanted to include it. I highly recommend the episode if you haven’t seen it. Also, Dave Rossi is a god and I can’t wait to use him more in this series. 

Warnings: Mentions of addiction, alcoholism,  nightmares, and trauma

-

“And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death.” Hotch’s voice echoed through the darkness, followed by hissing whispers. 

“Sinner.”

“Sinner.”

“Sinner.” 

“No,” he cried. “I’m not a sinner. I haven’t done anything, please.”

“You didn’t protect her,” Hotch boomed. His stoney expression appeared from the shadows. “You left her alone. He’s hurting her, Reid. Why did you let him hurt her?” His voice grew so loud, Spencer had to cover his ears. 

But he couldn’t hide from the sound of the screams. 

“Spencer!” The calls from the dark drove him forward, reaching his hands out into nothing. “Spencer, help me!” 

A sickening thwack sent stabbing pains up his leg, but it wasn’t him being hit. Another cry followed. 

“Stop,” Spencer croaked. He could barely talk. “Stop it. Leave… her… alone.” His head spun and he still couldn’t see anything. But he could hear your sobs. 

“Spence, please!” 

A light flickered on. You were strapped to a chair, cruel marks spreading across the bottom of your foot from where Tobias had hit you. No. Not Tobias. Charles. 

The man before you straightened his shoulders. Spencer recognized this voice as Raphael. He put a bullet in his revolver. 

“God’s will,” he said. The cylinder spun, each click booming in Spencer’s ears. Raphael raised the gun to your forehead. Tobias turned his head to Spence. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” Spencer begged. 

The gun shot startled him awake. 

Spencer shot up, panting desperately in an attempt to catch his breath. Sweat slicked his bare chest and arms. Beside him, you turned, but didn’t stir awake. He let out a silent sigh of relief. He wouldn't know what to say if he woke you. 

His legs swung over the side of the bed and he found a pair of shorts from his drawers to slip on. He checked again to make sure you were asleep and took a moment to admire the way your back looked in the moonlight shining through his blinds. 

Raphael’s voice whispered in his ear.

“This is God’s will.”

He went into his bathroom and locked the door behind him. He opened a drawer. He lifted the stack of towels and grabbed the item hidden beneath them. 

“This is God’s will,” Raphael said again. He was hurting her. 

“No,” Spencer whispered to himself. “It isn’t real.”

He shouldn’t even still have it, but for some reason, he’d never been able to get rid of it. Ten months he’d been clean. But that little bottle in his hands promised relief from his fears. Relief from the thoughts of your death plaguing him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He’d come so far. 

“Spence?” Your voice called from the bedroom. 

He put the bottle back in the drawer and unlocked the door.

You rubbed your eyes and gave him a sleepy grin as he came back into the bedroom. 

“Hey, what are you doing up?” He asked, climbing back into bed and giving you a kiss. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You walked your fingers up his chest before laying your head on it. 

“I just got up for some water,” he lied. You hummed against his skin and he tightened his arm around your waist. You were here. You were fine. 

With your ear pressed to his chest, you could hear his heartbeat. It was oddly fast, as if it were just coming down from racing. You pushed yourself up on your elbows. 

“Are you okay?”

He plastered on a convincing smile. “Of course. This has probably been the best night of my life. Why wouldn't I be?” 

He was saved by the buzzing of his phone. He looked at the screen and read the message from JJ. You didn’t have to see it to know what it was. 

“This early?” You whined. It couldn’t have been later than 5:30. 

He kissed your forehead. “Sorry.”

“Call me before you take off.” 

“I always do.” He gave you one more kiss before getting up to get dressed. 

You tried to sleep again once he’d gone, but now that your body was awake, it wanted to stay that way. With a heavy, tired sigh, you sat up and wrapped the sheet around your naked form before standing up. 

Your feet padded against the floor as you made your way to the bathroom. One look in the mirror and you grimaced. Your hair looked insane. Nest-like even. Hopefully Spence had an extra brush you could borrow. You opened one drawer and then another, freezing when you saw it. Instead of a brush, you found a bottle laying on top of a bunch of towels. It was filled with clear liquid and the label made you rub your eyes to make sure you were reading it right. 

You set it back down, running a hand down your face. Your eyes locked with your reflection. Your panic and confusion was clear in your mirrored irises. 

Why would Spencer have dilaudid?

-

Spencer let his mind replace the images from his nightmare with the dream that was the night before. He distracted himself with the memory of your touch, your need, the way his name sounded on your lips. Just thinking about it made his hands tremble. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling your fingers dragging down the length of his back. 

He forced the images out of his head before stepping into the briefing room. 

Everyone looked tired, except for Hotch, who probably hadn’t slept anyway. The whole team gripped their coffee mugs tight, drinking as fast as they could without burning themself. Spencer was the last to arrive and took the empty chair next to Garcia. 

“Sorry to wake you up so early, but we’ve got a kidnapping in Jersey,” JJ said as she prepared the briefing. While she handed out the files, Spencer felt Morgan’s stare from across the table. 

“Oh no,” he thought. “No no no no-”

Morgan smirked. “Here it is again.” Everyone in the room seemed to follow his gaze. The only one who was watching JJ was Hotch. 

“Ooooo, what is it?” Garcia squealed. 

“Reid’s got a look again.” 

How did he do that?

Prentiss narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know. He looks just as tired as the rest of us.” 

Reid pleaded with Morgan silently, but it was no good. Sometimes the ‘big brother little brother’ side of their relationship meant Morgan relentlessly teasing him no matter what. 

“Nah nah nah, he’s got a look. He’s practically glowing. And there are only two reasons a man glows like that this early in the morning.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. Reid braced himself. “I think loverboy is in looooove.” He drew out the last word like it was a song. 

Spencer could feel the burn in his cheeks. 

Prentiss, Garcia, and Morgan all cheered. Rossi looked wholly uninterested. 

“Wait,” Garcia said. “You said there were two reasons.” 

Morgan smirk grew even more diabolic. “Well it’s either he’s in love, or he had the best sex of his life last night.” He winked. “Or both.” 

Hotch coughed, nearly choking on his coffee. While everyone turned to him, Spencer looked up at JJ. She grinned back at him and he had to hide the smile sneaking onto his face behind his hand. 

“So Reid and the mystery woman are doing far more than K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Garcia teased. She gave him a loving pat on the arm. 

“Morgan, Garcia, time and place,” Hotch scolded through his coughing fit. His eyes flicked over to Reid and an icy chill ran through the younger agent. 

Oh. God. 

-

Other than the call before he got on the plane, you hadn’t heard from Spencer in days. You stayed away from his apartment, away from that evil little bottle. You tried convincing yourself that he had a perfectly logical reason. Maybe it was prescribed. 

The feeling in your gut told you otherwise. Mind reeling and feeling desperate, you called the only person who could help you. 

“Y/N?” Aaron’s voice was accompanied by a chorus of cheers and shouts. 

“I take it the case went well,” you observed. 

“Yeah, it did.” He went into the chief’s office to get away from the noise. “But that isn’t why you called.” 

You took a deep breath. “I actually had a question… about Spencer.”

“Y/N, you know I don’t want our private lives and work lives to interfere with each other.”

“I know, but there’s something I’m worried about, Aaron.” You continued before he could object. “Was he hurt recently? Badly? I know there are professional lines and I know you think my relationship with Spencer crosses them, but I need to know this Aaron because I’ve been losing my mind for days.”

At first, he was silent. It was the unspoken concern of everyone on the team. Each had their suspicions, but none said anything because it would lead to Reid’s possible termination from the unit. Aaron never asked because he never wanted it confirmed. But he always feared it would lead to this. And with your issues in the past, it wouldn’t be easy to face it. 

“No. He wasn’t injured recently.” 

You took a shaking breath and he spoke slowly and softly to try and calm you down. 

“Listen, we’re about to fly back. Tell him to meet you. If you need to know something, ask him yourself.” Like so many times before, he wanted to shield you from any kind of pain. Hearing the tears in your voice took him back to all those years ago. He shook his head. You were a grown woman now. You had to handle this yourself. “I’ll talk to you soon, alright? I love you.” 

You sniffed. “I love you too, Aaron.” You hung up. 

Hotch put his phone back in his pocket and sighed. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” Dave said from the doorway of the office. He had that knowing smirk on his face. 

“It’ll be fine.” 

The older agent nodded and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “So… Reid has a girlfriend, huh?” 

Aaron tensed. “It seems that way, yes.” 

Dave chuckled and crossed his arms. “Come on, Aaron. We all saw your reaction to Morgan’s crude comment. He and Garcia say stuff like that all the time.” He held up a finger. “There’s only one reason I can think of that would make you so uncomfortable.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate working with profilers?” Aaron dropped his serious exterior and laughed. “Okay, yes. Reid and Y/N are seeing each other. But nobody else on the team even knows she exists and, for now, we’d like to keep it that way.”

“We?” He prodded. “Or you?” 

“It keeps things professional.” 

“We listen to Morgan and Garcia all day and you’re worried that having a member of your unit dating your sister is unprofessional?” Dave shook his head. “I think I know what this is really about.” He leaned against the desk, his expression growing more serious. “You can’t protect her from her past by keeping her away from the BAU anymore than you could when you tried to discourage her from going into psychology.” 

Aaron took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face. “Maybe you’re right.” 

“I’m always right.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “Now come on. Everyone is getting ready to go.” He started to walk away, but turned back. “Reid and Y/N.” He chuckled. “Quite a pair.” 

Aaron laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t start.” 

-

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that’s real

Getting some rest may have helped clear your head, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. You tossed and turned on your sofa for almost two hours, doing the math in your head. Spencer said they were going to Jersey, which was a short flight. Factor in the time to get from the police station to the airport and then from the airport to your apartment, he should be here in-

“Hey, your door’s open,” Spencer greeted. He closed the door and locked it behind him. When he turned around and saw you curled up on the couch, his face fell. “What’s wrong?”

You sat up slowly, keeping one hand in your lap and the other reaching into your pocket. You didn’t look at him. You just stared out in front of you. 

“I’m not angry,” you muttered. Your hand took something from your pocket and set it on the table. “I just need to know.” 

He didn’t have to read the label to understand. Spencer took a few, cautious steps towards you, taking a few deep breaths as he moved. 

“That’s not- I… I don’t-” he stammered for an answer. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and when he opened them, you were looking back at him. The fear in your eyes was different than anything he’d seen in you before. It was a fear based on experience. “I don’t take it anymore.”

“How long?”

“Ten months.” 

You ran your fingers through your hair. “Then why do you have it in your drawer?” Your tone wasn’t accusatory. It was terrified. “Just be honest with me, please.” 

Spencer nodded and finished crossing the room, taking a seat beside you. He took your hand. 

“About a year ago we had a case,” he began. “Tobias Hankle suffered from an intense psychological break that caused him to believe he was three different people- Tobias, his abusive father Charles, and the archangel Raphael. When JJ and I were at his farm, we realized he was our unsub and split up to try and find him.” His grip on your hand tightened. “He overpowered me and took me to the place where he used to hide from his father. The Charles and Raphael sides of him h-hurt me.” His voice cracked, but he kept going. “But the real Tobias wanted to help me. He thought by giving me his drug of choice, he could help ease the pain.” 

You both turned to the bottle on the table. Listening to him shattered you. All of his pain… he just wanted something to make it stop. You were more alike than you realized. 

“I haven’t used dilaudid in a long time… but I’ve thought about it,” he admitted. “Ever since I saw that kid killed in front of me, I’ve wanted to. I started having regular nightmares again and I just want to stop being afraid.” His words tapered into a cry. 

You wrapped your arm around him and laid his head on your shoulder. So much had happened in the last few days, you didn’t know how to process all of it. 

“There are groups that can help you,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. “Even if you’re clean, you can go and talk and listen.”

He sat up again. “A group?” He wiped his tears away with his hand. “I don’t know if I could.”

You gave him a small smile and shrugged. “I do.” You pushed yourself off of the couch and walked over to your kitchen cabinets. On the far left, tucked behind a box of cereal, your fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle and pulled it into the light. You set it on the table beside the smaller bottle. “I know what it’s like to want to keep the thing that nearly destroyed you.” 

You studied his expression and noted the lack of surprise in his eyes. Of course. You were dating a profiler. You smirked and shook your head. 

“You already knew, didn’t you?” 

He bit his lip, grimacing. “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. You did before.”

“I guess it’s a little easier to spot when someone isn’t drinking at dinner.” 

Spencer put his hands on your waist and lowered you onto his lap. His finger traced up your chin. He tucked a hair behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry that this scared you so much,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the side of your jaw. “And if you think I should look for people to talk to, I will.” 

“It’s helped me a lot over the years.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “But I think you should do whatever you think will help you the most.” 

His hand moved to cup the back of your head and he brought your lips to his. The kiss ignited, but the need to pull him closer was beat by the need to watch him squirm. You stood up and watched his lips form a pout. 

“Where are you-”

“We’ve had so much seriousness the last few days,” you said. “It’s time for a little fun.” You reached into one of your drawers and pulled out a deck of cards. “Let’s see those Las Vegas skills when it comes to strip poker.” 

A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re on.” 

Yeah. 

Let’s just say, you didn’t last very long.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood

On to Episode Five->

[elirastudio]

Shadow king au

Whispers

I recommend reading this cuz it’s a perfect representation of the whole sun wukong and MK dynamic

——————————————————————————

Well sun wukong made his way into Xiaotian mind since he was a little kid, talking to him, every occasion was good to convince the little kid to take the golden seal away… but-

For young MK, wukong became a friend who he could talk to, of course wukong just wanted the trust of that kid so he wouldn’t have questioned him too much…

Unfortunately for him when sometimes he tried to talk to the kid at night, the little prince answered loudly and kept talking at the same volume; macaque naturally was always vigil on his kid, always listening to his heart beat to make sure he was ok, got a little suspicious of Xiaotian one sided conversation in the middle of the night…

So one night through his son shadow he paid him a little visit…. “Little star… it’s past midnight, what are you doing? Who are you talking to?” Macaque said poking his head out of the shadow, like countless times wukong begged him to tell anything or they would have not be able to talk with each other anymore; so the little prince just responded “ I’m sorry dad,I will sleep now” he didn’t answered to the other questions but macaque just let it be- this time.

“I think my son is going crazy” said macaque in front of a bowl of pigsy’s noodle; it wasn’t strange for the king to go talk to his brothers each time he was frustrated with something, especially if it was about Xiaotian.

“He’s not.” Ao lie sat next to him “he’s a kid he just has an imaginary friend” “ a what now?” Ao lie smiled “well sometimes kids just create friends in their head and talks to them as if they were real, even mei does it at times. Just play along, he will just leave it behind as he grows” the dragon finished patting the king back. boy macaque was happy to always have his brothers by his side.

So that night when when Xiaotian was once more talking to himself- even if more quietly- macaque decided to play along. “So will u and your friend go to sleep now?” Said macaque that was sitting on the prince bed “I’m sure he will protect you from nightmares tonight, and I will protect the two of you” xiaotian just laughed and got to bed knowing he had two king to protect him.

Of course as time went on Xiaotian stopped talking in the middle of the night and macaque thought that the all imaginary friends business was over; the truth was that MK realized that he had to be a little sneakier about the all situation, his connection with wukong was becoming so strong that sometimes he had dreams about the original monkey king life and other time he could see him in mirrors.

For Xiaotian he was a friend…and he wanted to help the ex king…

[iwadori]

So I'm reading your works and I love them !! I was thinking of requesting some kind of drabble or whatever you like, about a female reader who has thick thighs and is somewhat plump and is in love with Tsukishima but he makes a comment about the food and she feels bad and when she meets Bokuto in the boot camp Bokuto is too cute and attentive to her asking for her number and a date. If you don't feel comfortable with this, just ignore it and good luck with your blog. Sorry my english is bad<3

When they make you insecure PT 5 (tsukishima,bokuto)

Part One Part Two  Part Three Part Four  Part Five Part 6

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

Tsukishima

You and Tsukishima have been dating in your first year (as you both went to the same middle school together.)

You were in love with Tsukishima, you always have been to be honest, but once you became officially boyfriend and girlfriend your feelings amplified.

But recently, Tsukishima hasn’t been so nice.  

“Y/N we’re going on another training camp at Nekoma” Hinata exclaimed running up to you, as you leaning against Tsukishima “and you get to come too this time!”

You recently became the new trainee manager as the third-year manager, Kikyoko, is going to graduate. Tsukishima acted as if you being around all the time in practice was the worst thing in the world, but Yamagucchi always assured you that ‘Tsukki’ was just joking.

“Oh well that’s fun...” you say entertaining Hinata’s excitement. You were kind of excited to go to the training camp too, as it was in Tokyo after all. You were always a big fan of volleyball as your dad used to play for the national team and you were planning to play on the girls team this year but you felt that you didn’t have the body for it (which was obviously not true.)

Hinata kept on rambling on before Tsukishima insulted him. “Gosh Kei, you don’t have to be so rude.” you complained, he slightly nudged you off of him and put on his headphones showing you that he was not in a good mood.

You let the rest of the practice continue, making notes of things and basically being Kiyoko’s shadow. As it ended, you waited outside for Tsukishima to walk home with you, but one of the guys told you he left 5 minutes ago. You knew there was no point of chasing after him so you just walked on your own, making you sigh in defeat.

Tsukishima was what you would describe as hot and cold. Some days he was fine a ‘perfect gentlemen’ but other days, days like this Tsukishima was just Tsukishima.  

When you got home, you decided to watch matches of all the other schools just to get some insight. You were watching a Fukarodani V Nekoma match from a few years ago and something caught your eye, well someone did to be more specific. A beefy, bicolour haired boy who was hooting like an owl was mesmerizing to watch.

You saw that his name was Bokuto Koutarou which triggered your next actions, which were to internet stalk him. You learned that he was the captain of the team and the team’s ace and the 5th ace in the country which piqued your interest in the boy even more.

‘This is going to be an exciting training camp’ you think to yourself before going to sleep.

`Kiyoko gave you an itinerary of all the things you should bring, since you weren’t going to be joining in any of the matches you were reminded to bring things that would keep entertained.  

You get to the bus at the crack of dawn, ready to be driven to Tokyo. Hinata and Kageyama were already arguing (let’s pretend that they didn’t have to do the retakes in the test) Tanaka and Nishinoya were being loud, and the rest of the members were already asleep. You wanted to sit next to Tsukishima but when you were about to sit down, he put his carryon bag in the seat next to him.

The bus ride was around 4-5 hours, and you spent your time reading and sleeping. Daichi got the loudmouths to calm down making the bus ride more tolerable. You suffered from slight motion sickness but you powered through.

When you arrived there, you saw all the other teams and their buses too. You felt a bit overwhelmed, seeing these tall boys just crowd around an entrance way. But too your surprise, noticing your slight anxiousness, Tsukishima grabbed your hand in a hand-hold.  

The Nekoma coach, explained how the day would pan out and where each team would be residing for the week. There was a lot of commotion getting everyone settled, Hinata and Nishinoya were basically bouncing off of the wall commenting on all the people and the place and how they’re going to ‘crush the competition.’  

You could tell that when the other teams were looking at Karasuno they were all staring at Kiyoko. Inquisitive about how there wasn’t only one girl manager but there was two. As you were walking your eyes locked with Bokuto Koutarou’s making yours widen, you blush and turn your head quickly.  

What you didn’t know was, after your small interaction, Bokuto elbowed Akaashi and said “Akaaashi AKKAAASHI, did ya see that? did ya?” he was flying with happiness “That girl from Karasuno smiled at me. She’s really pretty.”

“I think she’s from Karasuno” Akaashi said “So maybe you’ll see her around”

Bokuto stared off in the direction you were walking in “Yeah, hopefully.”

The first day, everyone got settled in and then the teams went straight into games. There were two different gyms and today, in gym 1, you were watching Karasuno V Nekoma. (By the way I literally don’t remember the teams at the training camp besides Nekoma, Karasuno and Fukarodani.) The game was very back a point each team making point after point, you already knew of Nekoma’s captain, Kuroo Testurou and the setter Kenma, you’ve actually played games with Kenma online before so you were fairly acquainted with him already.

The games ended and it was now dinner time, the canteen was packed with all the boys rushing to line up for the food. You waited at the back of the line, not really caring about when you got your food. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked over to see Boktuo,  

“Hi.” he said “I’m Bok-”

“Bokuto Koutarou!” You finished “I'm a big fan..” you cringed immediately at your excitement ‘pull it together Y/N’ you scold yourself.

“Oh well hi, I’m glad you know who I am” he said “and may I ask for your name?”  

“Oh I’m Y/N L/N” you say with a slight blush “I'm the trainee manager from Karasuno.”  

“Cool! Well I hope to see you aro-” he starts  

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you, I already got your food for you.” Tsukishima said pulling at your arm a bit harshly, dragging you over to a table with the Karasuno team.

“Gosh Tsukki, no need to be so harsh” you say rubbing at your wrist, he didn’t apologize and just started eating his food.  

You look down at your plate and see the small portion that Tsukki got for you. The Karasuno bunch was being loud, as they usually are, so when you whisper “Tsukki what the fuck is this” whilst nudging him in the side, he didn’t hear you (or atleast he pretended he didn’t.) You tried again but a little louder saying, “Tsukishima what the fuck is this.” you realised you said it a bit too loud as the whole Karasuno table stopped their conversations to look over at the slight commontion you caused.

“What do you mean Y/N?” he said with a slight smirk on his face.

“I mean what’s with the portion size of a bird that you gave me?” you ask getting upset “Do you really think im that big?”

“Well, you could start eating less that’s for sure.” he said earning gasps from you and some of the people sitting at the table “Y/N let's face it, you eat like a pig and you look like an elephant, me making your food portion smaller is the least I could do.”  

By now you had tears in your eyes, Tsukishima was a dick. You knew this, everybody knew this to be honest, yet you still loved him. He wasn’t like this in middle school, yes he was a bit snarky and rude (but wasn’t every middle schooler?) High school Tsukishima was like a completely different person. As much as you wanted to run away and hide, you knew you couldn’t.  

So you stood up and said “Tsukishima, I’ve spent 3 years loving and pining after you, because I thought you were this great guy, but turns out you’re a huge asshole” you start making some of the people listening in smile in laughter “Tsukishima, I’ve hated this past year dating you, you’ve been such a huge dick and I’m finally stopping you. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” You start making your way to exit before finally saying “Oh and by the way I’m not the pig here, you are... oh and I’m breaking up with you.” You left, hearing a few laughs and some claps behind you.

You felt relieved, like the massive cloud that’s been over your head is finally gone. You went to the gym since you knew it was empty and picked up a ball to just throw it around a bit. After a while of ‘de-stressing,’ you hear someone else enter the gym.

“Oh I didn’t know you’d be here.” said Bokuto  

“Well here I am,” you say awkwardly “I can leave if you want me too, I know this is for actual volleyball players.”

“No no it’s fine you can definitely stay, in fact do you mind setting for me?” he asks  

“Sure, of course I don’t mind” you reply, excited you get to play with someone.  You haven’t played in ages, you always begged Tsukishima to just throw a ball around with you but he never did.  

You set to Boktuo a lot, with him always asking for ‘another one’ everytime he spiked the ball. Eventually, you were tired of setting and wanted to spike. You originally was a spiker to begin with taking after your dad. Thats why you took a liking to Bokuto in the first place cause he reminded you of the joys you had when watching your father play.

Bokuto set a ball to you and you spiked it with great strength and accuracy smiling at the burning feeling you felt in your palm.  

“Woahh” Bokuto shouted going towards you in amazement “Where did you learn how to spike like that?”

“From my dad, I don’t know if you heard of him before but my dad’s name is D/N L/N...?” you say

“D/N L/N, Y/N he is my idol!” he shouted again “I want to be just like him.”

“I think you can, I see a lot of similarites in the way you both play.” you say

“Really! And you’ve seen me play before..?” he asks

“Yeah, I watched some of your games before coming here... you’re really good” you shyly admit.

“Wow.”

You and Bokuto spend the rest of your time, talking about volleyball you’re interests, things you have in common, your likes and dislikes. Talking to Bokuto was refreshing, he didn’t randomly insult you or make snide comments about your weight or your looks. He just genuinely looked happy to be there talking to you, unlike Tsukishima.  

Seeing your change in mood, Bokuto stops talking and asks “are you alright? I forgot to ask earlier, but I saw what happened in the canteen and I hope you’re okay.”  

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just things with me and Tsukishima reached a breaking point, I guess...” you say sniffling a bit talking about it “But it’s fine now I’ve broken up with him and I feel better already.”

“So you’re saying your single...?” he asked blushing a bit

“Yeah I guess I am...” you smile blushing also.  

“Okay great...well I hope this isn’t too forward after everything happened with Tsukki and all but...” he starts “but would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Who me?” you ask as if you weren’t the only other person in the room

“No the volleyball” he responds sarcastically “Of course you Y/N.”  

“Are you sure, cause to be honest Bokuto you’re a really good-looking guy” you say making him smile widely “so I think you need someone to match your level in attractiveness” you look down and his smile drops.

“What do you mean?” he asks before realising all the stuff Tsukishima said about you “Y/N you’re beautiful, your face, your body just you.” you blush at his words “when I first saw you when you were walking past us in the entrance way the first thing I thought and said about you was “Akaashi who is that girl she’s beautiful.””  

“Really?” you ask with disbelief

“Mhm” he nods excitedly “So will you go on a date with me?”  

“I guess so...” you say a bit unsure

“HEY HEY HEY!” he exclaims “I gotta go tell akaashi!” he runs out of the gym in a hurry making you laugh, but he comes back to give you a quick unexpected kiss on the cheek making you smile.

You checked your phone for the time realising that you’ve been with Bokuto for 3 hours and you knew that everyone would be going to sleep now. As you are the manager you slept seperately from the rest of the team but before you went to your sleeping quaters you went to Karasunos.  

“Y/N where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.” asked yammagucchi  

“It’s fine yams don’t worry about it, guys” you say catching everyones attention “I just wanted to apologise to you for my outburst at dinner, it wasn’t my intention to cause a scence.”

“It’s fine Y/N” said sugawara “He definitely deserved it.”

“Yeah as your marvellous senpai we gave him a good telling off” said Tanaka and Nishinoya  making you chuckle.  

“Okay well thanks guys, I’m going to sleep goodnight.”

“Wait Y/N can I speak with you.” asked Tsukishima gesturing to outside the room

“Umm sure” you respond following him into the corridor.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and done over the past year and how I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, you don’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”  

“I can’t say I can forgive you yet.” you say making Tsukishima look sad “but maybe with effort from you we can become friends possibly?”  

“Just friends?” he said with hope in voice thinking that you could be something more.

“Just friends.” you repeated and confirmed “Besides I have been asked on a date”  

“With who?”  

“None of your business stingyshima” you mock the nickname that Hinata calls him making him scowl and you smile “Goodnight.”

After Bokuto’s confession and Tsukishima’s apology, the rest of the training camp went off without a hitch. In your breaks and lunchtimes, you got to know more about Bokuto and with Kuroo’s help you even got to sneak out to actually go on your date. You sometimes even went to practice with them getting to show off your skills, with Bokuto cheering you on and complimenting you every single time.  

Tsukishima kept his distance for the most part, and kept the snarky comments about you and Bokuto to himself (even though he was dying to say them.) You eventually fully forgave Tsukishima in your 3rd year but you definitely weren’t as close as you used to be. Tsukishima’s comments and actions did affect you for a while however with the help of your loving boyfriend, you were reminded how beautiful you are no matter what weight, shape or height you were.

You and Bokuto stayed together, you made sure to come to every one of his games and when you introduced him to your dad he fainted on sight. Your dad and Bokuto got along, and became very close friends, Bokuto always came to him for advice (especially volleyball advice.) You loved Bokuto and he definitely loved you too.

AN: I hope you liked it, since I didn’t want to make it too similar too the Atsumu insecure one. And I feel like it dragged out a bit but got rushed in the endd....but oh well...

[frenchrebelfries]

Lullaby

AN: A bit short fanfic... Happy Reading!

https://open.spotify.com/search/safe%20and%20sound

You are alone in the Avengers living area humming a song while strumming the guitar you borrowed from Fury which he gladly let you. The Earth’s mightiest heroes are out for a mission and you were left alone inside the compound with FRIDAY’s company.

You and Natasha have been together for 3 years and still is going strong, you and her just began to share a room which was awesome and it’s a brand new step for your relationship but you noticed Natasha not getting go good night sleep without some lullaby songs that you sometimes play for her so you decided to make her one.

You smiled as you got the picking pattern right for the lullaby

“how’s does that sound Friday?” you asked the AI

“very lovely Miss Y/L/N” you grinned at it thanking Friday when a loud sound interrupted your peaceful time as you quickly grab your gun and pointing it to the door as you saw the god of thunder raise his hands.

“Woah! I come in peace Lady Y/L/N” you breath in relief seeing the other avengers piling inside the living room as you put your gun away.

“Hey babe”

you smiled as Natasha rush to you giving you a hug which you reciprocated and kissing her temple

“how was mission? Did you get hurt?” you asked her scanning her body with any injuries as she giggle

“mission was a piece of cake and no I didn’t, they surrendered quite quickly for my liking… I didn’t get to punch a single one of them…” she pouted as you chuckled at her giving her a peck on the lip.

Your little lovely time was interrupted by Clint who sat down at the couch across you with Steve on his right and Bucky and Sam on his left

“you play that Y/N?” he asked pointing to the guitar as you nodded

“a little bit…” you answered as Tony and Bruce made their way to the other side of the couch with coffee in hand

“play something then let’s hear it” Tony said as he drank on his coffee as you shrug to embarrass to even hold it

“I’m really not that good so it’s better not to” you answered

“oh come on Y/N I can practically hear you singing every day” Wanda butted in as Vision follow her from behind, your eyes widen

“so you sing too? I gotta hear that” you gave the ‘are you serious’ look to Sam as you felt Natasha hold your hand squeezing it as you looked at her with her green eyes silently begging you to do you.

“nope that’s not working” you whipped your head avoiding the red hair’s eyes but practically everyone did the puppy eyes too as they said ‘please’… well Vision tried to…

You just sighted as you sat down holding the guitar with Natasha by your side as everyone closed in to hear it.

You were about to start when Fury and Maria went inside and seeing the others so anticipated

“what’s happening here?” he asked as Tony shushed him

“Y/N will sing for us” hearing that Fury and Maria made themselves comfortable sitting beside Thor as Maria asked

“what are you going to sing for us?”

Your face got a bit red as thought about the reason you made the song as Wanda looked amused with your thoughts as you answered her.

“um… it’s an original” you answered her

Everyone was silent you were really nervous at the beginning but when you started to pluck the guitar you felt free and at peace as you started singing.

 I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go

When all those shadows almost killed your light

I remember you said don't leave me here alone

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight

 Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

 Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire

The war outside our door keeps raging on

Hold onto this lullaby even when the musics gone, gone

 Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

 Just close your eyes, you'll be alright

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

 As you ended the song everyone was almost in tears you nervously looked at Natasha as her eyes were teary too.

“you really made that song?” she asked

“I made it for you, I know that you love lullaby songs to get a good night sleep so a made it for you… do you like it?” you asked her as she hugged you

“I love it, thank you Y/N” you smiled as you look around seeing everyone in smiling

“what’s your inspiration to that song Y/N?” Bruce asked you as everyone listened well

“all of you… all of you were my inspiration on writing it…” they all smiled warmly at you

“did you record that Friday?” Tony asked making your eyes widen

“yes boss” Friday answered as they all nodded in agreement

“good”

[lunarfolds]

dossier / connections / pinterest / threads

     i wish i could relay just how excited i am for this group OERIEOE i’m an avid player of stardew valley and i always really loved how different each character in the game is and how they all cohabitate with one another, it’s EXCELLENT and i think it makes for such a nice rp environment ^.^ anyway, spiel over, i am goofy (i watched a goofy movie before i sent my reserve pls forgive me) and i bring to you my gentle ball of chaos, park minsi! i’m sorry if this feels disjointed or rushed at all, as i made a ton of last minute changes 💀 anyway, she’s a chef at her family’s bed & breakfast and an avid surfer, which can be an issue since something she finds so fun and distracting is so close to where she works~ i also have a few pages for her linked above, and if you’re interested in plotting or chatting, just like this post and i’ll come and say hello! also, don’t be scared to ask for my discord if you prefer ^.^

APPLICATION

❃ ↷ ˊ- pelican town is all abuzz about PARK MINSI, our resident 23-year old CHEF AT EUNHASU BED & BREAKFAST. you know, the one who looks like SON CHAEYOUNG? i don’t see it, but maybe that’s just because they remind me of THE CRUNCH OF LOCALLY SOURCED VEGETABLES AS THEY’RE BEING SLICED BY A STEADY HAND, T-SHIRTS THAT SMELL MORE LIKE SURBOARD WAX THAN PERSON and WILDFLOWERS TUCKED BEHIND A HEAVILY PIERCED EAR every time i see them at THE BEACH. word around town is that they’re increasingly SOFT-SPOKEN and GREGARIOUS, but can get rather UNPREDICTABLE. hope to see them around the valley soon!

HISTORY

minsi originally hails from busan; the daughter of a traveling musician father and a hotel manager mother.

she has both an older sister and a younger brother, so she was always surrounded by lots of love on all sides growing up.

with two fairly successful parents, the children were extremely well taken care of. there was really no dysfunction to be had among them. minsi’s mother and father were deeply in love and treated their children with a lot of encouragement, support and affection. minsi got along really well with her siblings and, while there was of course the occasional disagreement, theirs was a peaceful home for the most part.

one of minsi’s favorite things to do was help out in the kitchen whenever someone was cooking food. she’d shadow them, getting out ingredients for them and watching with great interest as they prepared each thing individually, before bringing it all together for a complete meal. cooking was a fast fascination for her.

living so close to the water, the doe eyed girl also loved going to the beach whenever she could annoy her mother into taking her. 

she’d build sandcastles and watch the waves roll in a few feet away, feeling utterly at peace with the world. lobbed up with sunscreen, she’d bounce around in her water wings, trying to get into further depths before her mother would tug her back closer to shore. she would cry when they all had to leave, making her mother give her a good ten minutes to say goodbye to her favorite seashells before they left. 

there was a beginner’s surfing class being taught one summer at her favorite beach, and after begging her mother for a good week to let her take it, the woman finally agreed. she loved coasting over the small waves, even if it was a struggle to balance. each time she’d successfully stay up, she’d feel this pleasant feeling in her stomach that made it feel like she was floating; like she could have tasted the sunshine.

the only real thing that always bothered minsi was when her father had to go back on the road to play music. she loved to see him play, but because she and her siblings had school, she was unable to ever really tag along with him. there would be months-long absences between getting to see him, and it took its toll in its own way.

her requests to go to the beach would become less and less frequent, and she would completely lose interest in helping anyone cook, even when prompted.

thankfully, when minsi was twelve years old, her father reached something of an impasse. he knew that if he continued to work and travel as a musician, he would miss out on a lot more moments with his family; especially seeing his children grow up. he was ready to make a choice.

minsi’s parents had always had a lifelong dream to open up a bed & breakfast by the sea, and they were beginning to think it may have been time to invest in the idea. busan was full of similar business ideas, so they wanted to open up shop somewhere there’d be a gap in the market.

after doing some research, the two settled on the beach in stardew valley as the site of their business. a gorgeous structure was erected a few yards back from the shoreline, with distinctive blue paneling that made it look like a natural part of the scenery.

while minsi’s parents went to work setting up for the opening of their bed & breakfast, the children settled in at school in the idyllic town, finding comfort among the quaint surroundings and the more consistent presence of their father.

as minsi grew into her teen years, she did have a tiny rebellious streak. she didn’t become super bratty or anything, but she did obtain a couple of tattoos with a fake signature from her parents when she was 16.

her parents were half furious and half confused. none of their children had ever really stepped out of line in this way, so they didn’t know what to do in the situation. they grounded her, but they also discussed the decision with her. she said that she felt like it was her choice to make, and if it was something she wanted on her body, it wasn’t really anyone else’s business. they kind of found that logic hard to argue with.

while they weren’t crazy about it, they started giving her genuine permission to get inked, mostly because they knew she would just do it anyway.

she was able to cook more than ever, too, becoming the unofficial chef’s assistant in the b&b’s kitchen on the weekends when she didn’t have school to attend. it was just the taste of the culinary profession she needed to push her into obtaining the official training.

when she graduated from high school, minsi decided to attend a two-year culinary academy so that she could receive her official certification. it was difficult being away from the place that had come to feel the most like home to her, not to mention her family and friends, but all the homesickness was forgotten when she finally came back to town.

she’s become the official chef of eunhasu, and was able to set up her own menu using produce from local farms and fresh seafood from the nearby ocean. said menu is her absolute pride & joy!

she’s still obsessed with surfing too, and it’s not uncommon to find her riding one out while still on the clock. ( hey, breaks are a thing and the ocean is literally right there :c ) but considering that food can be ordered any time of the day at the bed & breakfast, she has a device that buzzes her when she needs to get back on the double~

PERSONALITY

minsi is a really sweet, caring and well-rounded person in all honesty. she doesn’t like to raise her voice or argue, and she will basically withdraw inside herself like a turtle if you try that with her. but at the same time, she kinda does what she wants ? like if she knows she wants something and that it’s important to her, she’s gonna roll with it. she doesn’t like confrontation though, so she’ll likely just sidestep it to do The Thing sneakily.

in friendship, minsi is supportive, loyal and affectionate. if you’re there for her, she will always be there for you in return. she loves to make sure everyone is fed and might even pop in unexpectedly with a picnic basket of goodies ! she’d be the type to invite friends to stay at her apartment with her every night like a little mini party with drinks and movies and snacks, too !

in love, minsi is reeeeeeally shy. she has a hard time being direct about her feelings, even though deep down she’s a true romantic. she’d likely do a lot of small gestures in secret so that you feel appreciated, even if you don’t know she’s responsible for it. she has multiple love languages, but acts of service is where she really shines !

all in all, she’s a sporty, yet soft capricorn who’s willing to both ride and die

[astarion]

Liked the Nintendo Direct a lot! Plenty of fun games both previously announced and revealed here, and a lot of them are coming early on next year!

The announcements that got me the most excited were the new Fire Emblem and Octopath Traveler games, as well as Rain Code, though some other announcements were nice to see too (Tales of Symphonia remaster, Kirby WiiU return even if I’m probably gonna pass that one, and a new Theaterhythm). I have some thoughts on the big ones I mentioned.

First, Fire Emblem Engage. I love the series so I am really excited to that see a new one is being made, and will be out in just a few months! However, I have some mixed feelings about it. Specifically, on how it’s using bringing in protagonists from previous games in the series as a plot point and game mechanic.

Three times now there have been games in the series that have done this: the first FE Warriors, FE Heroes, and Tokyo Mirage Sessions. And each time they never really had much of an effect on the plot. Heroes and TMS downplayed the old series characters to tell their stories with the original characters. The most effect past protagonists had was with Warriors, but that also had the weakest story of the three and the least developed original character world.

So seeing this being brought in to Engage in a very significant way makes me a little worried on how it’s going to go. On the plus side, it looks like the older characters are being used not as full-on summoned to this world characters like the other examples, (so the new characters should still be the stars) but instead brought in as phantasmal beings in stat-buffing rings, and can even make fusion forms with the game’s new characters. This could be a fun spin on the gameplay and is honestly pretty cool. On the minus side, the balance between old and new could easily be tipped to put too much in a direction and lose what the game may be going for. If there’s too much emphasis on Marth and co., this could leave the new characters and world underdeveloped and unsatisfying. But if there isn’t enough emphasis on Marth and co., then that begs the question of why go through all the trouble with them to begin with? Would it just have been better to either not have this mechanic, or have it with original characters, past heroes of Engage’s own world, instead on relying on brand recognition from other games in the series? So I’m excited, but in a cautiously optimistic way right now.

Also, as a minor note, with Sigurd being featured, I haven’t played Genealogy yet, and I know his general story thanks to Heroes, but I would really like his story to be officially released or remade out of Japan to enjoy in full. The remake option worked great for Alm and Celica with Shadows of Valentia after all!

For Octopath Traveler 2, the game is looking to be a sequel that’s a lot like the first, only more. The trailer’s advertised interconnections with the heroes’ stories, but I don’t know if they mean that it will be like the first one, where there’s an underlying thread that comes out in the endgame after all stories are done, or if there is actually more interaction between the heroes this time around.

Either way, I am liking that technology is a little more present (there’s a train, and a factory that explodes!) and I’m eager to see how they’ve built on to this game after the first Octopath, since Triangle Strategy and Live a Live also used this engine.

As for Rain Code, seeing this coming from the team that worked on Dangan Ronpa has me very excited! I love mysteries, and also enjoyed Dangan Ronpa a lot, but if you’ve played V3, then it is pretty clear that V3 was very likely to be the final game of that type they would make (for a long time at least). So, seeing the mystery solving come back fresh as a full-on detective story rather than a high-school killing game, with that powerful, over-the-top flair that helped DR stand out, I am really excited to see where this goes.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part VI

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader, Zeke Yeager x fem!reader wc: ~ 11.2k

Warnings:  explicit sexual content, ass play, jealousy, possessive behavior, humiliation, manipulation, OC introduced (read A/N), non-con coming inside, fighting, miscommunication A/N: As I was writing this, I decided to bring original female characters in to play the “bad guys” because I didn’t wanna demonize the canon AoT girls. Just didn’t feel right. So, everyone, meet Rhi. Enjoy~

Mike is extremely fucking aware of you sitting a foot away from him on his couch. You're hunched over and whining about him beating you in Mario Kart again, and honestly, he doesn't know how he's doing it because he is so not focused on the game. 

 You came to the party in tight jeans and a sparkling top, and all Mike can think about is getting you out of them, spreading you out underneath him just like he used to. 

 But, he's not gonna say anything about it, not even gonna allude to it because he feels awful about pushing so hard at the Pike house. He never thought he'd be that type of guy, but he's been known to go a little off the rails when it comes to you. 

 "Have you ever played this with all banana peels?" Mike asks, trying to get his mind off of the heat he thinks he's radiating. 

 "What?" 

 "Like, you set it so all the items are bananas."

 Your eyebrows raise. "That sounds nightmarish."

 "Oh, it is," he agrees. "But you should experience the chaos at least once."

 "Alright, fine. Nanner me up, then." Mike snorts as you sit back against the cushions, examining the Switch controller in your hand and mumbling, "Could they have made these any smaller? My hands are too big. How are you even playing?" 

 "Practice. We played a lot of Don't Drink and Drive my sophomore year."

 He toggles to change the settings, and you both pick characters again. Mike selects Baby Park and grins too widely when you squeak. 

 "This is the worst possible—"

 "It's the best possible track," he corrects you. 

 The next minute or so is spent with Mike swearing and you screeching, but a melody of giggles can be heard in between. 

 He stands up like it'll help him focus, and you follow suit, bouncing and leaning forward until Mike thinks you might lose your balance. It's the only match you actually beat him at, and you raise your arms in victory, acting like the terrible winner you are. You dance and poke him in the chest so that Mike rolls his eyes and shoves you with just enough force (so, not a lot) to make you fall back onto the couch. 

 "Wow, rude!" You exclaim with a little pout.

 Mike stands next to you, a little too close as a retort forms on the tip of his tongue, but the angle is awkward, and he watches your eyes flit from his face to his waist (or what's a little below it) for just a split second, just long enough for him to notice, and he has to fight a smirk as you meet his eyes again. 

 He can imagine your cheeks are feeling pretty warm right now, but Mike doesn't say anything about it, just takes his place beside you. If he's sitting a little closer than before, neither of you mention it. 

 It's nearing one in the morning, and both of you are starting to feel it, eyes and hands too slow to keep playing the video game, so you switch to a movie. Mike doesn't think much of it when he lays down, legs hanging over the armrest, head in your lap. You tense for about two seconds before relaxing into the position you both know so well. 

 The first Jurassic Park plays from the TV, but Mike isn't paying any attention, too busy watching the way you're nibbling on your bottom lip. It's your thinking face, means you're lost in your own brain, just as far away from the film as he is. 

 It's stupid that you're both fighting this. Mike doesn't understand. If he wants it, and you want it, what the fuck is standing in the way? Zeke? That pretentious, clay-stained fuck? You don't even fit well together. In any way. He's too arrogant and philosophical (or so Erwin says). He probably doesn't appreciate your sense of humor (or so Mike says). And, he won't fuck you (so you say). How are you happy with him? 

 "Miche," your voice is quiet, but still loud enough to send a shiver down Mike's spine. 

 "Hm?"

 "Stop staring at my mouth."

 "You looked at my dick earlier."

 "Shut up, no I didn't."

 Mike laughs, turns his head to bury it in your stomach, and you start carding fingers through his hair. It's natural with the two of you. Nothing is forced. It took a while to get back into the groove of your friendship, but now you're here, and Mike is breathing in the smell of your perfume and fabric softener and you, and he wants so badly to just raise your shirt and plant kisses all over your soft skin. 

 Your body rises and falls with a deep breath. Your hand stops at the crown of his head. Then, you whisper the words he wants to hear most: "Just one more night?" 

 Mike sits up so fast, he nearly smacks into your chin with his forehead. He turns to face you again, eyes too round, voice too hopeful as he assures, "Just one more night."

 He knows the only reason you're considering this is because Zeke has you all wound up, but that's okay. Mike will take care of you. He'll scratch that itch and then some—remind you of what you're missing. 

 "Alright, yeah, I—"

 Mike is suddenly standing and taking your hand, leading you to his bedroom as the Jurassic Park theme plays you both out. 

 He knows you'll want to snoop—it's sort of your thing—but he doesn't give you time as he bends and catches you in a kiss, hands holding your face, tilting your head. He feels you curl your fingers into his shirt, using him for leverage as you balance on your tiptoes, and he lets you dance like that for a little while, desperate little ballerina as you open your mouth for him, but as soon as he feels your tongue against his, Mike lifts you clean off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist, no need for straining muscles now as you both lick and suck and hold on to each other too tightly. 

 Mike paces over to the bed, nearly tripping over the shoes he left in the middle of his room earlier that day, but he’s able to drop you onto the mattress and catch himself above you before any real damage can be done. 

 You laugh out a, “Real smooth, Zacharias,” that he ignores in favor of taking his shirt off. 

 He can’t see well in the darkness which just will not do as you begin stripping, but then he remembers, “Oh,” and leans over you to plug in the string of lights he somehow managed to hang around the flag pinned above his headboard. “Ambience.”

 You crane to look at them, suck your teeth, and say, “Let me guess. Erwin told you to do it.”

 “How’d you know?”

 Another little giggle as you tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear—“Because Erwin is the fairy lights type of motherfucker, but you…” You don’t finish that thought, just shake your head and tell him, “They’re cute. I like ‘em.”

 Mike hums, “Good,” then leans down for another kiss. Several more, actually. 

 He’s missed this so fucking much, the way you taste on his tongue, the way you sigh into him, the way your body moves beneath his. It hurts to think this will be the last time he gets to experience it with you, but he plans to savor every second, never let himself forget and, hopefully, make sure you never forget either. 

 Cheesy or not, the lights cast incredible shadows on your body once it's bared to him. Your silhouette is something he could stare at for hours, days, a lifetime. If he were even slightly artistically inclined, he’d probably try to paint it, but as that’s not the case…

 Starting at your jawline, Mike leaves a trail of little bites, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp. When he reaches your neck, though, he begins sucking, dragging his teeth over new-forming bruises so that you whimper and arch to press your chest to his. He moves slowly, barely even registering your breathy pleas as he holds a patch of skin captive between his incisors and laves over it. 

 A mark on your neck. One on the swell of your breast then on the side of the other. The space between two ribs. Just above your naval. The hollow of your hip bone. And, finally, the insides of both thighs. 

 Last time he did this, on the bed in your old room doused in moonlight, he wasn't trying to be possessive. 

 Tonight he is. 

 “M-Miche, please.” Your voice is catching as if you’re crying—as if Mike is torturing you. He supposes he is. You’re ready for relief, and all he’s doing is winding you tighter and tighter. It’s okay, baby, he thinks to himself, I’ll make it worth it. 

 Swiping his tongue between your folds, Mike groans at how wet you are. He almost feels sorry for you. Now, he’s gonna have to spend even more time drinking you in. 

 You throw your legs over his shoulders with no prompting, letting him sink further into you. Mike licks in long, deep strokes that make your thighs tremble and jump around his head. He sucks your clit into his mouth, slick and swollen against his tongue, and makes sure to move his face just enough to make a mess of the hair on his chin. 

 You’re begging again. For something. For nothing. He isn’t quite sure. But, when Mike moves to lick around your dripping hole and uses a finger to flick over your sensitive little bud, you sing for him, and he realizes just how pent up you are. 

 Oh, he can have fun with this. 

 Pausing to suck more bruises onto your thighs, Mike tries to calm himself down, find a way to ignore the throb between his legs, but that doesn’t seem likely judging by the way you just keep trying to spread yourself further and further, like it’ll get him to move faster. 

 He crawls back up your body, face level with yours as he teases your entrance with a finger. You let out the cutest sounds, brow furrowing like you’re focused as you shift your hips in a silent demand that Mike does not follow. 

 His face is slick with you, and he knows you can taste yourself as he forces you into another long kiss. You let out an honest-to-god sob when he pushes his finger inside of you, throwing your head back and clenching around him while praising, “Yes, yes, yes, fuck, tha—thank you.”

 Mike pumps in and out a few times, finds your spot with ease and massages over it until he sees true tears leaking from your eyes. 

 Then, he pulls out, slaps a hand over your cunt, and warns, “Don’t thank me just yet.”

 Your chest heaves as you stare at the ceiling seemingly in shock. Mike raises to his knees and wipes his chin on his shoulder, glances back just in time to see you sit up and attempt to tackle him back on the bed. 

 Mike snorts, catching you by the wrists and leaning in close. “What do you think you’re gonna do?”

 Your eyes are a little wild, lips kiss-swollen, body marked to hell and back from Mike’s mouth. You just can’t get enough, shamelessly cock hungry, and god, he is so glad he's here to witness it. To be a part of it. Maybe he should send Zeke a gift basket, an edible arrangement or something. Thanks for letting me satisfy your girl since you can’t. 

 It takes no effort to lay you back down, just like it takes no effort to flip you over. Mike raises your hips, enjoys the view of you whining into his pillow for a second, then turns his sights to your ass. He gives it a couple spanks, biting his lip at the way it makes you clench your muscles, then spreads your cheeks and spits. 

 “M-Mi—”

 “‘S’okay,” he tells you before letting more of his saliva drip from his mouth and land on your asshole. “Gonna feel good, I promise.”

 He’s never done this with you before, not that he hasn’t wanted to, but he figures if there’s any night to go all out, it’s this one. 

 The first press of his tongue against your hole has you inhaling sharply, and the first press of his fingers into your pussy has you moaning low in your throat. Just like that, you relax for him. Mike works himself inside of you, opening you up until you’re nothing more than a drooling mess on his bed. You allow him to lick inside of you, to take in every exposed part of you as he rubs your g-spot over and over. 

 “Mm, gonna… gonna…” Your words are thick and wet. Mike isn’t even sure you realize that you’re speaking. He knows what you’re trying to say, though, so with a mischievous smile, he removes his face and hand, admiring his handiwork as you drop back to the bed and whine for him. 

 There’s a bottle of listerine in his nightstand, one he only planned on using when he would wake up in the early morning hours with that dead animal taste in his mouth. Turns out, it has more than one use. Mike takes a swig so that you won’t freak out if he tries to kiss you after eating your ass, swishes it around, then swallows. 

 “Not supposed to drink that,” you slur, already looking much too fucked-out for someone who hasn’t even taken his dick yet. 

 “Harmless in small doses, babe,” he tells you, recapping the bottle and tossing it back into the open drawer. “If I just chugged all of it, it’d be a different story.”

 You let out a little scoff, mumble something he can’t hear, then ask a little louder, “You ready to fuck me yet?”

 Mike smirks, pushes you to roll over again, then strokes a thumb over your face. “I am literally always ready to fuck you. Just trying to draw it out tonight.” 

 It makes you pout, but he thinks your eyes clear a little. Like you understand what he’s feeling. When you pull him down for another kiss, much softer than all of the previous, Mike smiles—another little snapshot he’d like to tuck away. 

 Without any warning, he pulls the pillows your head is resting on out from under you, snickering at the grunt that leaves you. He taps a hip, “Lift,” and shoves them underneath when you do. He should probably ask if you want him to wear a condom, but that’s nothing more than an afterthought as Mike begins to push into you. 

 “Ohh, thank god, thank god, thank god,” you pant, and Mike chuckles, dipping a hand down to gently stroke over the tissue stretching around his cock. 

 Every shallows thrust pushes more slick from you, and he can’t help but gather some on his finger and hold it to your mouth. You’re quick to lick it off, but instead of dropping his hand, Mike moves to press a thumb to your chin and hold your mouth open. You stick your tongue out, and he mumbles a low, “Such a slut,” before spitting on it. 

 As soon as you swallow Mike snaps his hips forward and starts a hard, fast rhythm. The way your face splits into a crooked grin almost has him coming on the spot, so fucking pleased with yourself, but he wants to make sure you’re seeing stars by the time he’s finished with you—wants to make sure you can’t even get out of his bed. 

 You're sucking in air through your teeth, little hisses that could be from either pain or pleasure, but the way you keep raising yourself off the pillows to meet Mike halfway is a pretty good indicator of which one it is. 

 While your voice seems muted at the time being, your sloppy little cunt is not—lewd, wet noises echoing through Mike's room as well as his head. That fucking squelch he hears every time he pushes in, the mirroring suck whenever he pulls out… You always get messy with him, or maybe he always makes a mess out of you—either way, it's one of the many things Mike adores about you. You were shy about it maybe the first two fucks but not anymore. Now, you wrap your legs around Mike and pull him closer, claw down his back and try your hardest to fuck yourself on his cock until he's laughing in your ear. 

 "Here, hold on."

 You whimper when he pulls out, but it's only to flop down in his back and let you climb on top. He expects some kind of break, a single second to breathe, but you just sink down on his length and let your head hang back. 

 "Mmygod," you moan, taking him in as far as you can then rocking back and forth. 

 Mike can feel your thighs break out in goosebumps, traces a finger over your arm to find the same effect and hums. Bracing yourself on his chest, you plant your feet on the mattress and bounce like your life depends on it, that drunken smile back in place as Mike coos, "That's it, baby, take what you need." 

 He reaches up to grope your tits, cupping both of them, brushing calloused palms over each nipple. It makes you arch your back and gasp, but the rhythm of your hips doesn't stop. Mike can feel the way your pussy is drooling on him, slick little rivers that add to that filthy, beautiful symphony. He wants to hear it every night on repeat. Most played song of—

 "Oh fuck, oh fuck," you whine, and Mike reaches between your spread legs to press a thumb against your clit, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh as he rubs in tiny circles. 

 You sit and take it for several seconds before your eyes find his, widen, then roll as you start to come. 

 Mike takes over, lifting and lowering you on his cock as you twitch and cry for him. You're so pretty like this, hair out of place, damp with sweat and tears, thighs painted with your own orgasm. He doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want this to be the last time. 

 With your pussy still spasming around him, Mike switches positions again, lays you down like before and situates his head between your legs to idly lick everything that's dripped out of you. Your legs are shaking, kitten-like mewls meeting his ears. You jump whenever he runs his tongue over your clit, but you never move to stop him or swat him away. 

 Mike waits for you to go boneless before scooping you up and sitting on the edge of the bed. You're clumsy and slow as you straddle his lap, letting him slip inside you once more, but it's nowhere near as frantic as before. 

 He guides with gentle hands under your thighs, coaxes you to uncurl them from underneath you and wrap around his waist instead. Chest to chest, you rise and fall together. Mike breathes heavily into your neck as he hits that unforgiving wall inside of you. It makes you wince, but you don't shy away from him. 

 He's careful after that, makes sure everything he does is slow, tender, and when he sees fresh tears shining in your eyelashes, he knows it isn't from anything he's doing to you. 

 Mike is able to suck a few more bruises onto your neck and shoulders before he feels you nose at his cheek. Your kiss is dream-like, deep and relaxed but so full, and Mike knows he would be able to just do that all night if his orgasm wasn't about to run into him like a train. 

 He breaks away, looks to the ceiling only to have little fingers curl around his jaw and bring him back. You watch him with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip sucked between your teeth, and that expression—that need to see—it makes the cord in Mike's gut snap. He sees a vague twinkle in your gaze as his jaw drops then blackness as his eyes are suddenly facing the back of his god damn skull. 

 Every line of cum he shoots inside you has him groaning, his fingers digging into the swell of your ass as he fills you up. You purposely squeeze him, clenching on his cock to milk him of everything he has until Mike is shuddering and whispering, "Okay, okay, okay."

 "Okay?" You question then squeeze him again, giggling when he grunts and twitches. 

 Lying back on the bed, Mike lets you pull your legs out from under him, but you remain straddling his waist as you lean forward to lay on his chest. It’s quiet for a long time. A different Jurassic Park movie is playing now, the music too intense for the deep, even breaths you’re taking, for the way you’re lightly tapping Mike’s shoulder in time with his heartbeat. 

 His head is beginning to clear again, the lust and excitement ebbing away into those reflective thoughts that always seem to hit him after a mindblowing orgasm. It’s mostly questions: Why are you doing this? Why is he doing this? Why can’t you keep doing this? Why didn’t you pick him? Why don’t you want—

 “Okay, I gotta get up,” you grumble. “I can actually feel your cum dripping out of me.”

 Mike snorts, looking over his nose at you. “Never complained about it before.”

 You push yourself off of him, both of you hissing at the sensation, then Mike watches you stand and glance around, probably trying to figure out which door is for the closet and which is for the bathroom.

 “It’s the one on the left,” he grunts, staring at your ass a little too long and suppressing a groan when he catches sight of white fluid streaming down your thighs. “God dammit.”

 The toilet flushes, the shower starts, and Mike is left to wonder if you need the alone time or if he should treat this like any other time and join you. Are you in there trying to wash him off of you or—

 “You comin’?” You peak out from the door, wet hair dripping, tired smile in place. 

 “Just did,” he shoots back while sitting up. Like every other time. Just keep it casual. 

 The water is hot, but you’re even hotter as you lather your hair in shampoo and soap up your body. Since he’s back to pretending like this is nothing more than your old routine, Mike has no problem pressing himself against you from behind, running his hands up your sides, “helping” in the bathing process by squeezing your tits, feeling the suds get caught in the webs of his fingers. 

 “You’re playing with fire, Zacharias,” you tell him, and he can see your lips pulling into a smirk. “You need to stop unless you wanna go for round two.”

 He nips at your earlobe, uncaring of the soap that gets in his mouth. “Or three, or four.”

 You laugh and turn to face him, but your eyes are shut as you rinse your hair. It gives Mike time to admire all the marks he’s left on you—too many, probably—and he doubts you’ll be very happy with him once you notice, but fuck, you’re so pretty covered in him. 

 The shower ends. Mike expects you to ask for a ride back to the dorms (that he doesn’t understand why you’re still living in), but it turns out you’re not all talk. After sitting on the couch for only a few minutes, trying to make sense of the dinosaur movie you’ve walked in on halfway, you’re crawling into his lap again, teeth dragging over his neck this time as your hand trails down his torso to rub over his rapidly growing cock.

 “Oh, shit, I didn’t actually think you were serious,” he chuckles through a kiss.

 You grind down on him, bite his lower lip, then remind him, “I told you I was frustrated.”

 He smirks, gives your hair a little tug that makes you moan, then makes sure his words just ghost over your mouth when he teases, “Like a bitch in heat.”

 This time he takes you over the armrest of the couch, leaves you swollen and dripping his cum again. 

 Another shower, the steam on top of such vigorous activity has both of you deliriously tired, and Mike is honest when he tells you, “I really shouldn’t drive now. I’m about to pass out.”

 “You and me both.” 

 So, you slip into one of his shirts and crawl into bed with him, but neither of you get more than a couple hours of sleep before the morning sun is shining in through the window. Mike’s grumpy groan very quickly turns to one of interest when he feels you push your ass against his morning wood, and then you’re at it again. He’s never fucked this much in such a short amount of time, and he can’t imagine doing it every day or even every other day. In fact, he thinks he might be a little burnt out for a bit. Unless it’s with you, of course. He’ll always make an exception if it’s you moaning his name and hiking a leg over his hip and milking him dry. He guesses if this is the last time he gets to do this for the foreseeable future, he’s at least made it worth it.

 Back in your little party outfit, you step up into Mike’s Jeep and almost doze off in the short time it takes to get to student housing, but you’re roused when he pulls into the parking lot and steps on the breaks just a little too hard.

 Mike snickers when you jolt forward and grunt, cutting your eyes at him and muttering, “Fucker,” before undoing your seatbelt and leaning over to pull him into another kiss. He cradles the back of your head, holds you there for too long as he tries to make you feel everything he’s feeling through tangled tongues, little nips, and the string of spit that stretches between two bottom lips. 

 He thinks he’s been good at hiding it, but now as you’re about to slip out and away, those words are lodged in Mike’s throat again, and no amount of swallowing will get rid of them. He takes a deep breath and forces one of those horribly insincere smiles, and you can tell because the look you give him is thoughtful and sorry, and your voice comes out as a whisper when you say his name, “Miche.”

 “Hm?”

 “Uh… Thanks.”

 He lets out a humorless laugh and asks, “For last night? This morning?”

 “For everything. I mean, last night and this morning were incredible, like… Incredible. But, it’s more than that. For helping me with everything you have in the last year or so.”

 Mike’s heart drops into his stomach, and he sits back in his seat as his mind starts racing because this doesn’t sound like gratitude; this sounds like goodbye. 

 But, why? He’ll see you on campus in a day or so, at the PKA parties you end up going to. You probably won’t be able to attend a ton of his games, but that’s fine. He understands. Are you just being dramatic—sad that you won’t be able to fuck him anymore?

 He can’t ask any of this, settles with a half-hearted, “Yeah, no problem,” as he fights the confused frown that’s slowly taking over his face. 

 “I’ll see you around,” you tell him.

 Mike nods and watches as you slide out and start walking to the bland building. He doesn’t like how that just ended. It doesn’t sit right in his head or his gut. It could be that you’re already regretting it. It could be that you're fearful of the consequences. It could be that you think this might be the final straw in your friendship. You’d be wrong on that one, though. Mike is willing to let you get away with a lot—too much—before he runs. You can use him in whatever way you need, and he’ll keep coming back. He just can’t help it.  

 *

 That had been a bad idea. A really, really fucking bad idea. The ache in you has been completely satiated, and you loved being able to hang out (and fuck) Mike—wouldn’t really trade it—but as you walk up the stairs to Zeke’s apartment sore as all get out and see his face when he swings the door open, it really hits you—

 That had been a terrible idea. 

 “Why the fuck did Eren say he saw you leave the party with Zacharias?”

 “Alright, I’m just gonna turn around,” you say, pivoting back toward the staircase because you really don’t like the way Zeke’s tone is tying your stomach in knots and making your neck prickle. You haven’t ever been one to be scared of men, but in this moment, you would much prefer to not be anywhere near him. 

 “No, no, let’s talk about this,” he says with a suck of his teeth.

 His grip on your arm is just shy of painful, and you take note of the way he forcefully guides you into the apartment rather than tugs you. 

 You chew on the inside of your cheek, setting your purse down on the counter as you follow him over to the couch. Zeke sits down at the other end facing you, as always, blue eyes narrow behind his glasses. “So, is it true?”

 “Yeah,” you admit before diving headfirst into a lie, “It was just to play videogames, though. Neither of us were diggin’ the party, so—”

 “That so?”

 You nod. “We used to all the time.”

 “And, what else did the two of you used to do?” He mocks, and you keep your mouth shut, bottom jaw sliding as your lower lip starts to quiver. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

 “Thank whatever you want, Zeke. I was just hanging out with my best friend, okay?”

 “Your best friend?” He snaps. “Tell me, sweetheart, just why might you be covered up head to fucking toe, hm?”

 You cringe inwardly, taken back to the debate you’d had with yourself in front of the mirror. Your normal casual wear would show off some of the bruises Mike had littered you with—cold spoons can only do so much—but getting buttoned up would be suspicious. You had opted for the latter, hoping it would escape Zeke’s notice, but of course it didn’t. 

 Now, you’re sweating in your jeans and a fucking turtleneck you’ve never even worn before, and Jesus Christ, you just want to leave. Zeke is hot, but not hot enough to put up with this kind of bullshit.

 “Don’t have a comeback for that one, do ya’?”

 Mental note: kick Eren’s ass next time you see him. You knew that kid rubbed you the wrong way for a reason. 

 You don’t know who to be more upset with, the little brother or yourself. You could be irritated at Mike if you really wanted to—he hadn’t been subtle about wanting you last night, but then again, you hadn’t really expected him to, and you can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his feelings. There’s no way you could actually be mad at him.

 This is your fault. You need to deal with the consequences without bringing anyone else into it.

 “What d’you want me to say, Zeke? What’s the right answer here?” You ask exasperatedly. 

 “The fucking truth!”

 “We hooked up, alright? I fucked him! ‘Cause you don’t wanna fuck me, which would be fine if you’d just tell me why, but you won’t!” You’re starting to breathe a little heavy, voice rising as you continue, “I feel like you’re just waiting to see how long it’ll take for me to lose it, and apparently it was last night, and you know what?” You grin at him, nerves on fire the more you let every frustration fly from your mouth. “It was awesome. It was so fucking good, you don’t even understand.”

 Zeke’s eyebrows are high as he lets your little rant die off, obviously annoyed when he asks, “You finished?”

 “I think I am,” you laugh. 

 “Fantastic. Take your shirt off.”

 You choke on your tongue. “Excuse me?”

 “You heard me. Take. Your shirt. Off.”

 “No!"

 “You just said you wanted me to fuck you, so—”

 “Not right fucking now!” Even if you wanted him to, you wouldn’t be able to take him. You don’t think you’ve ever been so sore after having sex, but that could also have something to do with the multiple rounds of being impaled on Mike’s horse cock. God, you already miss it. 

 “Swear to god, if you don’t take it off right now—”

 “You’ll do what? What’ll you do, Zeke?”

 Your breath gets caught in your throat when he lunges at you, one foot planted on the ground as his other knee digs into the couch in a way that cages you in. His nails scratch against your skin as he pulls roughly at the material, and you hear the sound of threads splitting as you grunt and squirm and try to keep the terror rising in your chest at bay because this is not happening. This is not happening. 

 Zeke manages to rip the turtleneck off of you, and you shiver on the cushions as his eyes trace over every inch of you he can see, icy blue somehow becoming colder and colder. 

 “One,” he growls, shoving a finger into your neck. It smarts the way every bruise does, and you bat his hand away only for him to move it to the skin just beneath your collarbone. “Two.” He shoves your bra up to find hickeys three and four, making you wince as he digs a fingertip into both. “Five,” your ribs. “Six,” your stomach. “Seven,” your hip. 

 Your face is incredibly warm, tears stuck at your waterline as humiliation washes over you in waves. And naturally, it just gets worse. 

 “Are you gonna take your pants off, or will I have to?”

 You aren’t breathing deep enough anymore, and you can feel a burning in your lungs as a result. When you don’t answer quick enough, Zeke threatens, “I’ll rip them if I have to.”

 “They’re denim,” you snark, but that last piece of attitude is stomped out when he unbuttons and unzips your pants and tugs each corner, effectively tearing past the zipper. 

 You let out something frighteningly close to a whimper as he pulls them off, then sits between your legs and starts counting the marks dotted along your thighs. 

 “I’ve gotta hand it to him—Zacharias is a pretty thorough guy.” He pinches you a couple times, chuckling at the way you jump and hiss. “Did you like it when he was treating you like a fucking fire hydrant? Marking his territory like a dog?”

 “Shut up,” you grit, sitting up only to get shoved back down by a hand that curls around your throat. 

 You stare at Zeke with huge eyes, finally letting that fear bloom inside you—what is he about to do? What is he about to do?—and as he leans over you, tears start streaming down the sides of your face.

 He lets out a condescending little, "Oh," then lowers his face to run his lips over your temple and whispers, "Don't be scared. It's okay."

 A gentle kiss, and then he pushes himself up, stands, then disappears into his room. You stay on the couch, trying to catch the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Shivering as you sit up, you reach for your close only to find them ruined. 

 Zeke must have known that the moment he ripped them off of you (honestly, you should have known too) because when he returns, he tosses a ball of material at you—an old t-shirt and pajama pants. 

 "I'm gonna throw a pizza in the oven. That okay with you?" 

 You blink at him, unable to respond as he glances over his shoulder and makes a face like he's annoyed. 

 "What, are you stupid on top of slutty now? I asked if that was okay with you."

 "I—Ye—I need to leave," you mumble, quickly slipping the clothes on and standing. "I'm gonna leave."

 "How about you just chill and watch a movie instead?" 

 "Why would I want to—"

 The look Zeke gives you is chilling, mouth downturned, one eyebrow raised. It's a challenge, one you don't have the energy or fight to rise to, so you drop back onto the cushions and sigh. 

 It’s fine. You’re fine. He didn’t go nearly as far as you thought he was about to—just got upset. He had a reason to, right? There were better ways to handle it, a fucking conversation for example, but at least now he’s giving you a little space, cooling down in the kitchen while you gather your thoughts. You could go without the name-calling, though. 

 He just lost his temper, wanted to remind you that it’s him you’re with. You have been for a few months now. And, until now, Zeke has been a nice albeit slightly arrogant guy. He’s personable, he’s smart, he’s funny. Most importantly, he’s level-headed. You probably just pushed him a little too far. It could have been worse. It could be worse.

 You play it over and over in your head as Zeke hands you a plate with a slice of pizza on it. You play it when he sits down and throws an arm around you. Then, you play it when he walks you to your car that evening and kisses you like nothing ever happened.

 Could be worse. Could be worse.

 *

 Mike curls his tongue over his bottom lip and squints at the array of cups on the table across from him, picking one out before tossing the ping pong ball with a flick of his wrist. 

 It bounces off one of the cups' rims, and Nile easily snatches it up and smirks at him. 

 "Dude," Erwin starts, frowning when Mike turns to him. "Why do you suck so much tonight?"

 Mike rolls his eyes. "Man, fuck off."

 "No, I'm serious. What's up with you?"

 "Nothin'. Just having an off night."

 "More like off week," Erwin scoffs. "Month."

 Gelgar sinks his ball into the middle cup, and Mike quickly reaches forward to grab it, extracting the plastic before downing the beer. 

 Erwin is right, but Mike refuses to tell him that. He's been off since the last party a couple weeks ago, the last time he saw you—last time he touched you. He's spotted you around campus several times since, but you're always hanging off Zeke's arm, and Mike isn't about to pry you off him (despite how much he wants to).

 Honestly, he's a little surprised at how close you still are with him, how unaffected your relationship is by the hookup. Maybe Zeke just never found out. Mike has tried to ask you about it, sent more than one text, but they've gone unanswered which is a concern all on its own. Two weeks without talking at all. Mike feels like he's going insane.

 Could it be that you're mad at him, upset that you gave into temptation and you're blaming Mike instead of yourself? He understands the need to scratch that itch, but if you really hadn't wanted to fuck, you could have just said so. 

 Mid-terms are next week, so Mike figures if you still haven't talked to him by then, it's definitely time to worry about the state of the friendship. He's trying not to get himself worked up, but honestly, just the thought of you being upset with him is enough to make his stomach roll. He just needs one text. One everything's fine. That shouldn't be too hard for you, right? 

 Mike misses another shot and swears to himself, sticking a middle finger up at Erwin when he throws his arms out. 

 "It's just beer pong, bro. Calm down."

 The party is like every other—loud music, rowdy college kids, too many girls Mike doesn't care about making eyes at him from across the room. He really just wants to go home, but he can't help but stay in hopes that you might show up. It's highly unlikely, but that slim chance keeps him rooted to the spot, missing cups left and right until Nile and Gelgar win. 

 Erwin is not happy as he drinks his share of the remaining beer. Once he finishes the last, he tells Mike, "You owe me for that pathetic fucking display. Tell me what's going on."

 Mike comes close to just turning his back and walking away, but he can see that even through his irritation, Erwin is worried for him. 

 Running a hand through his hair, Mike just asks if Erwin has heard from you at all recently. "I just can't get ahold of her, and I can't tell if it's 'cause she's busy or ignoring me or what."

 Erwin's thick eyebrows knit together as he shakes his head. "No, I haven't talked to her in a while. Did something happen between the two of you?" 

 "I mean, we hooked up at the last party—"

 "Oh, that ended up happening?" Erwin asks, surprised. 

 Even after making up last semester, Mike has tried to keep the details of his sex life with you to himself and away from Erwin specifically.  After the shit he pulled that drove the rift between them in the first place, Mike isn't willing to be quite as open about you as he previously was, but he did have to break that code at the last party when he was convinced you would end up fucking. Buzzed and excited while still at the house, Mike had asked Erwin if he'd be cool with the two of you using his room (with the promise of cleaning up, of course), before you ended up just retreating to the quietness of Mike's apartment instead. 

 So, Erwin knew the potential that evening had, but Mike never followed up with him until now. 

 "Yeah, it did."

 "Well, what did Zeke think of it?"

 Mike shrugs his shoulders. "Dunno. She hasn't talked to me since then."

 "Shit." Erwin looks genuinely taken aback. "It's been that long?"

 "Yeah. I'm trying not to freak out, but like—"

 "No, I get you. If I end up hearing from her before you do, I'll let you know."

 Mike nods, "Thanks, bro," and forces a smile when Erwin claps him on the back, then breaks away from his friend to mope around somewhere else. 

 What if something happened? What if Zeke had found out and lost his temper with you? Mike will murder him if he finds out that four-eyed fuck put his hands on you. Gruesomely murder.  

 If he could take back what you both shared that night, he would. Things seemed to be getting somewhat back to normal between you—talking and making dumb jokes, like you were actually comfortable around him despite your boyfriend. If Mike had known one last night would fuck that progress up, he wouldn't have ever brought it up. 

 Then again, you had told him. I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke. And, he had still pushed, tried to get you to give in, and god, that's embarrassing. Mike is glad you called him out on his shit, but looking back on it still makes his face heat. That was fucked up. He fucked up.

 "It's Mike, right?" 

 Mike's eyes snap downward, caught off guard by the girl suddenly standing in front of him, dainty fingers with painted nails clutched around a beer bottle. It's the same kind you would drink only to end up giving it to Mike. 

 "Uh, yeah, that's me."

 The girl smiles at him. He's seen her around the college, events shared between both frats and sororities, and the more Mike looks at her face, the more he recognizes her as one of the chicks who used to hang around the baseball team a lot. In fact, he's pretty sure she's—

 "I'm Rhi. You played really well yesterday. I was watching you."

 "Thanks."

 She bats her eyelashes at him as she returns, "You're welcome," then clicks her tongue and asks, "So, who ya' lookin' for?" in a sing-song voice. 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "I mean, you've been scanning this room for the last, like, fifteen minutes. Looking like you're playing Where's Waldo or something."

 Mike snorts, flipping hair from his face as he lies, "No one in particular." 

 He recognizes the look of satisfaction that blooms on Rhi's face, has seen it many times before on many different girls. It makes him sigh inwardly because he really could not be any less interested. 

 "That's good." Rhi's wide grin shrinks into a smirk before she adds, "I was hoping you'd say that."

 Mike feels his mouth tug up on one side in what he's pretty sure comes off as a sad little smile. 

 Fuck it, though. At least she's pretty. 

 *

 Things don't change all that much between you and Zeke. After spending a day or two rationalizing, you're able to look at him and smile again, to laugh at his jokes and listen to his tangents. He's back to playing with your fingers on the table while you sit face to face for lunch, back to shoving his hand in your back pocket while you walk around campus. It's like nothing ever happened. 

 If anything, you start spending even more time with him. He walks with you to and from class whenever he can, tells you to come watch his practices because the teammates he's closest with—his best friends—want to get to know you better. It's all normal, and you get used to the slight change in routine without a problem. You like the Galliard brothers, Marcel who plays shortstop and Porco, the catcher, so it isn't a chore to hang out with them after games and practice.

 What is a chore is watching Zeke talk with his bubbly ex as he walks with her to the science building you're waiting at. Leaning against the brick wall under an awning, you squint as they approach. Rhi is looking at him with those huge, entranced eyes you know too well, a little too much pep in her step making her tits bounce in a way that's fucking impossible to ignore. 

 You shouldn't be territorial. If anything, you should probably still be mad for the stunt he had pulled with you, but��� if he gets to be possessive, so do you. It only makes sense. 

 'Cause that's how healthy relationships work, you think with a snort, pushing yourself off the wall when they both stop in front of you. 

 "Babe, you remember Rhi," Zeke reintroduces her like you haven't been at least a little wary of her for the last couple months. 

 "Yeah," you nod, forcing a smile. "How are you?"

 "I'm great!" She grins, looking at Zeke for one reason or another, like he needs to approve her answer, which is fucking dumb, but you also kind of understand because that's just the effect he has on people. 

 "Glad to hear it." You turn your attention to your boyfriend, content to ignore her from here on out, and ask, "Did you wanna grab something to eat before practice?" 

 “Yeah,” he nods before glancing at Rhi and offering a, “Catch you later,” that sounds too promising for your liking. 

 You don’t glare at the other girl as the two of you leave, but you definitely do not smile, and as Zeke drives you both to your favorite cafe, you whine to Hitch through texts.

 i wouldn’t be too worried about it, she tells you. she’s in my psych class and she’s kinda dumb. i doubt zeke wants to put up with that again. probs why he dumped her in the first place

 You try to appear unbothered through lunch, but you’ve had a pretty shitty day so far—woke up late, probably failed a quiz, got no response from Mike despite texting him three times in rapid succession, and then you had to witness that doe-eyed little brat blatantly pine for—

 “You know, you don’t have any right to be jealous, right?” Zeke asks after swallowing a bite of salad. 

 You blink at him, having to process for a second before you understand what he’s saying. And, why he’s saying it. How can he just read your mind like that? You don’t think you’ll ever understand. 

 “‘M not jealous,” you mumble, stirring soup you really have no intention of eating. 

 Zeke smirks across from you. “No?”

 “I’m just having a bad day. Don’t make assumptions just ‘cause I didn’t smile at your little ex.”

 His expression of self-satisfaction falls into a frown, and he asks what’s going on. When you tell him, you purposely leave out the detail about Mike ignoring you because it would only further Zeke’s point about you having no right to get possessive especially considering how fucking upset you are about the matter. Why the fuck isn’t he talking to you?

 “Want me to help take the edge off?” Zeke asks when you finish venting.

 You look at him with one raised eyebrow, tempted to reply with a smart-aleck ‘only if you plan on seeing it through’, but that sounds like too much of an ultimatum, too manipulative. You’ve made it this long without being a shady bitch, and you have no intention of becoming one. 

 He can see the gears turning in your head, leans forward and grabs your hand before urging, “Come over. Skip your evening class, and we can just… Relax.”

 You snort when he wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, possibly the first time you’ve smiled today. “I really shouldn’t skip. We’re reviewing for our exam next week.”

 “All the more reason to. You’re not getting any new information. You can just go back over it on your own.”

 He has a point. You have all the notes and PowerPoints, and the idea of just lounging and fucking is very tempting since the last time you had sex was the night with Mike.

 And, just like that, your stomach is in knots again. Why won’t he just text back?

 Sighing, you come to the conclusion that a distraction is exactly what you need.

 “Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.”

 “Oh, I’ll make sure it’s more than nice.”

 Zeke finishes his meal then asks for a to-go bowl for yours, and after about fifteen minutes, you’re in his apartment. 

 “Let’s watch something while my food settles, and then we can you know…”

 “You know,” you mimic, putting the leftovers up in the fridge then joining him on the couch.

 He turns on some underground horror movie that doesn’t exactly set the mood, but you power through about half of it before all but throwing yourself at Zeke as soon as he pats his lap.

 Chuckling, he helps take your shirt off, kisses your collarbone and murmurs, “Damn, should we just move straight to the bedroom?”

 “I literally could not give less of a fuck. Whatever you wanna do.”

 He grips your thighs and stands, making you hold onto his shoulders for dear life as he walks into the back and drops you on his bed. You immediately kick your pants off, a constant stream of ‘yes yes yes’ running through your mind. You need this. God, you need this. 

 But, when Zeke curls over you, he doesn’t feel broad enough, and when he kisses you, his beard is too thick, and when he trails his hands down your body, they’re barely calloused. 

 You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to turn your brain off—please, just turn off—because you should only be thinking of Zeke. 

 Zeke who circles your nipple with his tongue, who brushes fingers over your bare pussy and groans at how the sensation makes you arch into his mouth. 

 “Can’t wait to stuff this pretty cunt,” he breathes before grazing his teeth over pebbled flesh. 

 His voice isn’t deep enough. His blue eyes have a different shine from the green you're so used to.

 Fuck, fuck, fuck, just let him—

 Shimmying down your body, Zeke spreads you open and pushes spit from his mouth to land on your clit and drip downward. It makes you gasp, and you feel that familiar throb of arousal that grows when he starts rubbing soft circles over the sensitive bundle. 

 “Oh, shit,” you huff.

 Heat pools between your legs as he continues the motion, only stopping to replace his finger with his mouth. 

 You let out a high-pitched moan, thinking to yourself, what about pillows? You can get a better angle with pillows. It doesn’t matter in the long run as he drags his tongue over your entrance, dipping inside for just a second before going back to swirling the muscle around your clit. 

 A finger is pushed into you a little too roughly. It’s not quite long enough, not quite thick enough, but it still feels good, especially once Zeke finds your g-spot and massages it until you’re whimpering and begging for more.

 “You think you’re ready, sweetheart?” He speaks into your thigh, a thigh that was once littered with dark bruises from another mouth. 

 “Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please, please, Zeke.” Even his name feels foreign falling from your lips despite having said it hundreds of times.

 You don’t understand why your mind is sabotaging you like this. You’ve been desperate for Zeke for months now, so why is it that you’re finally getting what you want but can only think about Mike? What is wrong with you?

 He scissors two fingers inside of you, making sure you’re nice and stretched, and you want to tell him to hurry up, that you’ve taken someone substantially longer and thicker, because yeah, Zeke has a nice cock, big enough to be satisfying, flushed pink at the tip and dripping, but it’s doubtful that he’s gonna hurt you. 

 He has a lovely upward curve that drags over your spot as he slides into you, and it makes you groan, eyebrows knitting together as Zeke swears.

 “Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes, giving a few experimental thrusts. 

 You can take him without issue, wet and stretched, and god yes, finally. Finally. His pace quickens, coarse hairs on his pelvis rubbing against your clit and causing your eyes to roll back. Locking your ankles around his waist, you grin at the new angle, and Zeke huffs out an appreciative, “So fucking sexy when you smile for me, baby.” You stick your tongue between your teeth, something between a moan and a laugh leaving your throat, and he coos another, “Feel good?”

 “Ye-es.”

 Your mind is finally cleared—for a few minutes, at least—until Zeke pulls out and tells you to turn over. “Hands and knees.”

 You comply, and when Zeke spreads your cheeks and shoves his cock back into your wet pussy, the memory of Mike’s tongue on your asshole flashes through your brain. 

 “Jesus Christ,” you whine. 

 Zeke’s balls slap your clit with every snap of his hips, the sound of skin on skin ringing through the room. It’s so fucking lewd, the sweat breaking out on both of you only making the noises more obscene. The fingers of one hand are gripping you tightly while Zeke brings his other down on your ass with a little too much force. The burning that follows feels good, makes you hiss and push back against him.

 Pulling out so that only his cockhead is inside you, Zeke stills to focus solely on spanking you, alternating between cheeks as heat radiates from them. You cry and keep moving to the best of your ability, fucking yourself on his length as you get lost in sensation. 

 You lose track of time. Zeke switches between abusing your ass and leaning over you to grope your tits. No matter what he’s doing, you’re moaning, and eventually your own hand travels between your legs to play with your clit, the pressure in your gut becoming too much. You need to come, need that release, and when your back arches and your muscles tense, Zeke growls against your spine, “Fuck yes, come on my cock—just wanna feel you—”

 He lets out a little, “Ha,” when you pulse around him, gushing slick and leaving you overstimulated as he continues to fuck into you harshly. 

 Your arms give out, elbows buckling and sending you falling face first into the pillow. Every noise you make grows in volume but remains muffled. Zeke is relentless in his strokes, but he thankfully doesn’t last much longer, droplets of sweat landing on your back as he curls over you once again, breathing heavily into your ear, “Can I come inside? Lemme come inside you.”

 Before you can realize what you’re doing, you shake your head, turning your cheek to the cushion and panting, “No, don’t.”

 It shouldn’t matter. You’re protected, and you’ve done it before, but…

 You only want to do that for one person. You don’t want to let anyone else.

 “Don’t, Zeke, I—”

 “Did you let him come in you?” He suddenly asks. “Did you let him fill you with cum?”

 He reaches around you to pinch your clit, and you squeal and squirm, trying to get him to drop his hand, but he doesn’t, just holds it with two fingers and taps the swollen bud without mercy. 

 “Did you?”

 “No!” You lie, voice rising. “Fuck, I didn’t let him!”

 Zeke scoffs. “I don’t believe you,” pinching hard enough to make tears spring up in your eyes before letting go. He returns to your hips, blunt fingernails digging into your skin as he gives a few more thrusts and groans, spilling into you then moving you back and forth on his cock, watching his own cum get pushed further into your hole and coat the entirety of his length.

 “God dammit, what the fuck, Zeke?” You speak through gritted teeth, shoving back against him suddenly and with enough force to make him lose his balance and fall backward. You can feel thick fluid dripping down your thighs and turn to glare at him only to find him smirking at you. 

 The space behind your eyes grows hot with tears you refuse to shed in front of him. Instead, you get up and walk to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it before sitting down on the toilet with your head in your hands. 

 You shouldn’t be as upset as you are, generally like the feeling of guys releasing inside of you. It’s just hot. But, you had not wanted it this time. You weren’t ready for it, and now you can’t help but feel… tainted. 

 You pee then hop into the shower to rinse off, to cleanse yourself and calm down, and once the hot water has drained you of most of your anger, you slip into one of Zeke’s t-shirts and go back outside. He’s in sweatpants, sipping on water as he stares at the TV.

 “Feel better?” He questions without actually looking at you.

 You’re free to roll your eyes, but you think you sound convincing when you answer, “Yeah, a lot.”

 He hums. “Didn’t seem like it.”

 “I mean,” you sigh and move to sit down next to him, one leg tucked under you as you think about how you want to word what’s on your mind. “When I ask you not to do something, I, you know, want you to actually listen."

 Now, he turns to look at you wearing an expression frighteningly similar to the one he'd worn the day he humiliated you on the very couch you're sitting in. 

 "Oh, so you want me to respect your wishes." He doesn't sound at all sympathetic. "Kind of like I wanted you to respect mine before you went and fucked Zacharias."

 "Alright," you drawl. "We're back to this again. Awesome."

 He didn't ever explicitly ask you not to sleep with anyone else. At that point, you don't know if Zeke even saw you as a legitimate girlfriend. And, you understand why he's annoyed by your actions, but you're getting extremely fucking tired of him dangling it over your head. 

 "Uh, yeah, we are."

 Taking a deep breath, you try to keep a level head, to appear collected when you tell him, "Look, I see your frustration. I get it. But, me sleeping with Mike is a little different than—"

 "How?" Zeke cuts you off. "How is it different?"

 "Because what you did in there was against my fucking will. I told you not to come inside me, and you still did."

 Zeke is on his feet in an instant. "Is that a fucking accusation?"

 "No, no," you hold your hands up in defense as you peer up at him. "I'm not trying to say that everything that happened in there was non-consensual—"

 "Sounds a lot like you are."

 You're starting to panic. You don't like how hostile he's getting when he isn't even trying to understand you. 

 "You're trying to fill in blanks that aren't there, Zeke. I'm not trying to accuse you or get you in trouble or anything. I'm trying to explain how fucked up—how scary—it is for someone to ignore your boundaries in the bedroom."

 He makes a little, "Tch," then mutters, "You're blowing it out of proportion." 

 It's about the worst thing he could say to you. Firstly, he's the one getting offended by the situation, and secondly, it completely invalidates you. 

 "You're the one who was so desperate for sex you went and fucked someone else," he adds. 

 You massage your temples, figure you need to remove yourself before saying something you can't take back. 

 Your phone is still on the armrest where you left it before going to the back, and it lights up with a text—Hitch—and displays the time. It's only five. If you wanted, you could still make it to your six o'clock class. 

 "You know what, I'm gonna put a pin in this so we can both simmer down. We can revisit it later."

 Zeke doesn't seem to like that solution, or lack thereof. You grab your shirt off the floor then pad back to the bedroom to change into the clothes you picked out for the day, texting Hitch back while you're hidden. 

 She had asked what you were up to, and you reply with, at Zeke's. Could you by any chance pick me up? I didn't drive and we just got into a spat. 

 on my way 😘

 You waste a little time before deciding to brave your boyfriend again, simply telling him that you're just gonna go to class and that Hitch is coming to get you. 

 "Fine," he dismisses.

 You think about giving him a little peck but decide against it, opting to just grab your backpack and slip on your shoes. 

 "I'll text you," you tell him. 

 He replies with a short, "Sure," and you take that as your cue to leave. 

 It doesn't take long for Hitch to get there and takes even less time for her to ask what happened. 

 At last, you give her the full scoop (barring Zeke's meltdown after originally finding out you slept with Mike). She frowns almost the whole way through, and you expect her to either soothe you or tell you that he's being an asshole, but instead, she clicks her tongue and mutters, "I don't get why you aren't just dating Mike. Like, yeah, Zeke's hot and all, but you and Mike have always had a thing. And, you both obviously like each other so whyyy," she ends in a frustrated whine. 

 "Because Mike and I…" You trail off. You don't really know, honestly, not for a few seconds at least, and when it hits you, it isn't some big epiphany. It's more like a natural thought. "Because Mike is long-term. If we got together it would be, like, the real deal. And, I don't think either of us are ready for that."

 It feels good to admit both to Hitch and to yourself. You never thought about it in depth before, mostly because while you've known about his feelings for you for a good while, you haven't fully accepted your own. 

 But, if the hurt you're feeling at him not texting you back is anything to go on (not to mention how much you thought of him while fucking Zeke), your fondness for him has probably turned into something more, something deeper. 

 "I don't understand what's so bad about the real deal, but whatever. You guys will sort it out in your own time."

 "I don't know about that," you mumble. "He hasn't talked to me since that morning. Just won't reply to any of my texts or calls."

 "That's weird," Hitch thinks out loud as she pulls into the parking lot. "If anything, I thought he'd be fighting even harder now."

 "Yeah, well, that is clearly not the case." You grab your bag out of the backseat, guessing, "He must be mad at me or something."

 "Maybe. Maybe he's just trying to give you space."

 Shrugging, you get out of the car, forcing a smile as you thank your friend for the ride. 

 "Any time. One more thing, though," Hitch stops you." You tilt your head in curiosity as her face grows uncharacteristically serious. "Next time Zeke uses that against you, tell him to fuck off. And, consider dumping him."

 "I mean, I did fuck up by sleeping with Mike."

 "Yeah, but you and Zeke aren't gonna work if he keeps holding that over you. Something like that isn't supposed to be leverage. If he can't handle it, he needs to leave."

 It's rare that Hitch loses her happy go lucky attitude, so seeing her like this is a little jarring. 

 "I'll take it into consideration."

 As you walk into the dorms, you pout about how your shitty day only got shittier. All you want to do is talk to your best friend, but that's obviously not gonna happen. 

[ next ]

[blahkugo]

Manual

Terushima Yūji x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 4.5k

TW: dub/noncon (noncon filming & voyeurism), manipulation, drugs (weed and alcohol), implied virginity, degradation, exhibitionism, daddy kink

A night of danger and debauchery with the city’s infamous drug dealer. 

It was a simple enough text that started it, but you’re not even sure how he got a hold of your number. A few days ago, a plain ‘hey’ had flashed across your screen and before you knew it, you were agreeing to go for a ride in his speedy car. ‘How fast is it?’ you had asked as an attempt to stall the conversation. But it was his reply that settled it for you: ‘As fast as you want it.’ 

It’s stupid how easily swayed you were, but the words left a knot in your stomach that you had never encountered before. Like a ship setting its anchor on the seafloor, though not one of anxiety nor tension caused by any of the usual stressors of your life—something entirely alien. The real issue wasn’t its unfamiliarity, but how much you took pleasure in it. And as ships do, the feeling set sail as quickly as it appeared, and you were left wistful and aching for its return. 

Never had you been like your classmates at the private school, who used familial wealth to excuse week-long benders and avoid lengthy jail sentences, because never had you felt that depravity necessary. But as you make your way down the block, you envision daddy waking up to find his little girl simply vanished, and you can’t help the wicked smile that spreads across your face.

When you arrive at the grimy, red sports car— music blasting through the open windows despite the dead quiet of the block— that ball of thrill settles in your gut yet again. As long as you’re in the company of Terushima Yūji, you’re well aware that the feeling isn’t going to go away.   

The car is low. So low, in fact, that you have to balance a hand on the roof and slide in legs first. How does he even drive around in this metal death trap without scraping the asphalt? Your leather skirt bunches and slips further up your thighs no matter how hard you tug it lower. 

“Alright?” It’s the only form of greeting he calls out to you over the ear-splitting music. Terushima eyes your lustrous, bare legs resting in the passenger seat of his beat-up Camaro, but doesn’t bother turning down the tune. He’s not very polite, but you didn’t exactly accept his offer to be drowned in refinement, did you? 

“I’m okay,” you shout, struggling to be heard over the booming voice rapping about ‘drugs and bitches.’ Typical. “How are you?” You’re not sure if it’ll break the ice, not even sure he wants to speak at all, but anything’s better than fidgeting awkwardly in your chair with nothing but the god awful music to drown out your anxiety.

He mumbles back a simple reply, fixing his gaze on your breasts straining against the tight, low cut tank. You fished the two-piece outfit out of the depths of your wardrobe, a revealing number borrowed from a friend that you never even bothered trying on before tonight. His stare has you itching to cross your arms over your chest, but you hold out. You can’t have him thinking you’re a prude, even if it is the truth. 

His hand grips the stick shift lazily and before you know it, the engine is rumbling and you’re peeling away from the curb. Terushima’s driving is every bit as reckless as you assumed, stop signs appearing to be soft suggestions rather than mandatory decrees. The residential roads are practically deserted, but the lack of caution has your heart racing wildly all the same, fingers clutching at your seat. As the adrenaline rushes through your veins, your stomach sinks further into the frayed leather seat. 

When the music is shut off abruptly, you believe he must finally want to speak to you, perhaps even exchange pleasantries— but the next words out of his mouth are a sly, 

“Do me a favor, yeah?” You nod, before realizing his eyes are still fixed on the road ahead. It’s not like it matters anyways, because he continues on as if you had answered him. “Grab the bottle under your seat for me, princess.” Princess. It’s uttered so nonchalantly, but there’s a certain edge to his tone— the tiniest hint of a teasing lilt. You don’t like it, but logical as your brain may be, your stomach still swirls with butterflies. 

Swiping at the floor, you search until your fingers make contact with glass. Low and behold, you pull out a bottle of– 

“Smirnoff,” your eyes scan the label intently, attempting to place the emblem among the liquors you’ve seen at the country club. While you weren’t exactly expecting a water bottle— that’d be much too off brand for Terushima— you aren’t too keen on the idea of reckless and intoxicated driving. He glances towards you once, but doesn’t make a move towards the drink at all. 

Only a few seconds later, he shoots you another look, single brow raised in quiet anticipation. The long-forgotten burdens of high school peer pressure washes over you again, fingers quivering as you unscrew the cap. 

You’ve never had vodka straight out of the bottle, never had vodka in general except for when it’s mixed into your cocktails. But his expectation weighs heavy in the confined space. So, fuck it. What did you come out with him for if not to live a little? 

Nail polish remover, children’s cough syrup, and liquid fire. That’s all you taste as the lukewarm fluid glides down your throat. The burn is unbearable, but a pool of warmth oozes through your chest and your hand relaxes a bit on the edge of your seat. You don’t even realize that you’re coughing.

“First time drinking?” He offers you a lazy smirk, tone edged in ridicule. 

“What?” Holding your breath, you silently beg the itch in your throat to disappear. “No, I- I have wine with dinner.” 

The laugh that rumbles through his throat is deep and hoarse, much too loud to be laughing at your comment— and thus, is only perceivable as taunting. Even so, you can’t deny the seduction threaded into his smoky vocals, or the wire deep within your core, pulled taut and ready to snap at any moment. 

“Wine,” he snickers again. “You’re funny, you know that?” He swipes the booze out of your hands and chugs. If there’s ever a proper time to start worrying, it’d be now. But at least he stops for lights? 

Besides, you can’t say you’re not enjoying the view. Terushima’s defined jaw ruts outward with every swill, his lips puckered towards the bottle as if his life depends on it. As cautious as you should be, he’s too pretty to keep your eyes focused anywhere else; your mouth surely knows it, practically salivating at his Adam's apple, bobbing as he gulps. If you reach your hand out just a few inches, you can run your fingertips against it and–

“Gross,” he pushes the bottle back towards you. 

“Black cherry,” you counter, as if it’s an explanation for the disgusting taste. 

“Is that the flavor I nicked? Damn, wasn’t paying enough attention,” he shrugs. 

“Nicked?” Mouth agape, you stare intently at the side of his face and hope for a valid answer. 

“Bottle looked lonely, so I swiped it,” he brushes a finger at the alcohol trickling down his lip; one of your own digits twitches in envy. “Is that too criminal for you, princess?” 

So he is mocking you. The vodka must be melting your brain, because all your body comes up with in response is a wind chime of a soft laugh— an entirely foreign noise to your ears. It must be a mistake, or the music playing tricks on your hearing, because you don’t giggle. 

Still, according to Terushima’s awful pet name, you have something to prove. Not sure how else to shut him up, you opt for the easiest way out. 

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” The bottle meets your lips and liquid fire waltzes through you again. Seconds pass as you chug, the haziness of your last sip urging you to down just a teensy bit more. Just enough to get you tipsy, just enough to prove him wrong, just enough to drown out the voice in your head claiming this is a terrible idea. 

This time, you don’t cough. 

“‘Atta girl.” 

Then, you’re drinking, and he’s drinking, and the two of you are having the grandest of times. Never mind the fact that he’s consumed far less alcohol than you have, or that lines are blurring and you’re no longer able to see straight. Gone is the anxiety you were plagued with upon meeting him and the worries that shadow you day and night in your regular life. And that’s all that really matters. 

He blasts the music once again. Maybe it isn’t as terrible as you originally thought. A deep, pumping bass resonates through every bone in your body and Terushima seems to be pressing the pedals harder with every beat. 

Up you go, higher, higher— higher?

Your eyes have been scouring the mischievous man next to you so intently that you never bothered to ask where you were going. But can you blame yourself? Even now, as you round up the side of a cliff, every thought passing through your murky brain pertains to him. 

His lazy half smile that won’t drop, as if he’s keyed in on a secret that’s all his own, lidded eyes that make him look entirely apathetic and alluring all at once. Hell, even his fingers are beautiful. Slender and graceful, one hand is placed leisurely at the wheel and the other is shifting the gear stick with meticulous precision. Terushima Yūji has always struck you as raw and vulgar, but now you see there’s a sense of finesse to him as well— and of course, you’d need to be halfway into a drunken stupor to truly notice it. 

You’re shaken from your thoughts once he cracks the windows, hair whipping around violently. If you only knew the lyrics to any of these songs, you’d be singing along. Instead, you settle for kicking your legs out the window and tapping your fingers to the beat. Who cares that your fingers are moving too slowly to match the rhythm? 

Terushima says nothing at your erratic behavior, only smirks when your head leans against his shoulder and you stare idly up at him. Relief. It’s the only identifiable emotion you’re able to place in the midst of this haze. Yes, the world is foggy and black spots take over half your vision. But you hold onto that feeling— the breeze, the weightlessness. All the while, the anchor in your gut makes its home further into the sand. 

“We’re here,” he chuckles, pointing at your windswept hair when you turn to him. It’s the first time his laugh sounds genuine, bubbling up naturally instead of forced and vicious. And he’s finally looking at you; not in stolen glances, with eyes glazed over in mockery or lust, but truly looking at you. You break out of the murkiness clouding your brain to catch what ‘here’ is, only to gasp at the sight in front of you. 

He’s brought you to the very top of a cliff, overlooking the city. Cars and buildings seem nothing more than blips on a map, insects to your God-like view. 

As beautiful as they are, the dazzling lights of the world below you pale in comparison to the deity seated inches away. It’s difficult to believe that you had never once taken notice of him, though your younger self filed him away as a troublemaker—an invaluable waste of space— based on gossiped knowledge and without a second glance. 

“Y’know what I never noticed?” You’re well aware the words tumble out a whine, drawn out and a bit slurred, but proper diction is the last thing on your mind. “You’re really pretty.” As soon as you’ve said it, your face is set ablaze. Control yourself. 

“Pretty? Haven’t heard that one before,” he throws his head back and you’re struck with that gruff, raspy laugh once again.

“But you are,” you’re unable to contain yourself at all now, all proper thoughts replaced by the cut of his cheekbones, the messy bleached hair tumbling over his sleek undercut— and best yet, the tiny piece of metal prodding through his tongue and now balanced between his teeth. “A pretty bad boy, with pretty teeth, and a pretty piercing, and you texted me why?” With the hurried words, another wave of heat spikes your body. 

Perhaps his eyes brighten at your little confession, or perhaps his face gives away nothing. You can’t really tell much of anything.

“You really wanna know?” You nod hungrily at his whisper, his hushed tone teeming with temptation. Terushima creeps closer, so much so that you feel his breath fanning your face. Underneath the overwhelming scents of cigarettes and booze, he smells a bit like tea leaves. Strange, but pleasant. “Are you sure?” He’s smirking now, obviously finding your curiosity entertaining. 

At the same time, one of his hands inches towards you— cautiously, deliberately, like a predator creeping towards its skittish prey. You tremble in your seat, unsure why the proximity has your heart beating out of its chest. 

All at once, his hand shoots past you and towards the glove compartment. Terushima lets out a snicker, flashes you a brilliant set of teeth, and proudly offers you nothing: “Sorry, not tellin’ you.” 

Your slurred gripes do nothing to sway the tease, who’s now engrossed by the itty bitty ziploc baggie he pulled from the glovebox. Though your head is spinning, you yourself can’t help but feel enthralled by his movements— staring shamelessly as he sprinkles the weed onto paper. His fingers prove precise yet again as he rolls the greens into pretty little cylinders. 

Almond eyes meet yours only when he brings the wrap to his lips, gazing directly at you while his tongue slides across the paper. A chill prickles across your skin, but there’s only heat within the parked car. 

Before you know it, he’s extending a large hand towards you, silently willing you to take the first hit. Somewhere far away, you hear your own voice mumbling, ‘I don’t know how to.’ As hard as you try to put up a front, to exude sex and confidence in front of this well-versed man, you’re not quite sure you can pretend your way through this one. 

A wispy laugh, a sly comment and a wink later, two of his fingers have the joint pressed between your lips. ‘I’ll teach you,’ he promises, instructing you on precisely how to breathe. You barely register the palm fastened at your chest. Is he being a creep? Maybe he’s just trying to help. Either way, you don’t pay it much mind. 

And then, smoke fills your lungs, fills your head, fills the already-depleting air of his tiny car. You’re coughing again, but he warned you of the burn this time, and ‘besides, it’ll get you higher.’ 

You were hoping to see chalky hues of pinks and blues, but the drug does nothing but provide you with lidded eyes and a tingle that runs from head to toe. A single stroke of your finger against the leathered seat sends waves of shivers throughout your arm. Your palm splayed against your own thigh feels unfamiliar and ticklish. 

The buzz is only truly worth it when you finally turn to look at the wicked man next to you; Terushima has a slick smile dancing across his face, eyes heavy and probing you for any sort of reaction. The bleached blonde hair at the top of his head pales under the moonlight, suddenly seeming impossible to resist. When you reach out to grasp a strand, he moves quicker, gripping your fingers tightly between his. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” His low drawl is lazy, more amused than genuinely angry. But your fingers twitch beneath his grasp all the same, completely embarrassed and still itching to touch his locks. “Princess doesn't know how to ask for things politely?” You don’t have to look into his eyes to feel the smugness radiating off of him. 

“No, I-” There’s no saving face now, and he knows it as well as you do. 

“Or are you just so used to getting what you want?” Even as he taunts you, his digits thread through yours, pulling you towards him so that your hands hover over his lips. “Is this what you wanted?” 

You shake your head, but the thought of grazing his pillowy lips— of your trembling fingers exploring that tiny metal ball in his mouth— is now etched into your clouded brain. 

“No? What about here?” He trails your digits down his crisp t-shirt, stopping only when you’ve reached his midriff. You should stop, should adhere to the yellow tape bound around this entire encounter; instead, you stare at the blonde with wide eyes, tongue poking out of your mouth as you debate your answer. He breathes an airy laugh, “use your words.” 

But before you can, his lips are meshing into yours. And here are the hues of the pinks and blues you so desperately wished to see, hidden in his caress all this time. There’s heat, and heat, and more heat— and a quiet hum traveling from the very tip of your mouth to your toes, as you melt together. 

When he releases your hands, they fly towards his hair, finally tugging at the soft pieces. A simple clasp of your waist and you’re moaning into his mouth, a warm welcome for his tongue to slide in. Embers spread through the tiny space, setting your lungs ablaze far quicker than any drug could. His cool, metal piercing tickles the roof of your mouth; if you were coherent enough, you may wonder what it would feel like skimming other stretches of skin. 

But your thoughts are cotton candy melting at his touch and allowing one, singular thought: him, him, him. 

Your sugar-spun mind loses track of the time he spends pressed into you. Seconds, minutes, hours later, he finally pulls away, the long string of saliva between you the only remnant of your lip-locked endeavors. 

“It’s getting late,” his words are a whisper, a break in the heavy silence of heaving chests and spinning minds. You’d have thought the infamous heartbreaker would urge for more, and a part of you wishes that he would. But instead, he drives you back down the cliffside in silence, his hand on your thigh rooted in place, keeping you longing for another taste. 

Only when you’re coming down from the high, still a bit tipsy, do you realize you’re almost home. Terushima’s fingers still play at the hem of your skirt, stroking at the fire deep in your gut. With all his teasing, you figure you may as well make your move now. 

“You can pull over here,” you instruct, happy to have found your usual domineering voice. Perhaps it was buried under the weight of weed and wandering lips. 

“Your house is another block away,” he refutes with a grumble, but heeds your demand anyways. When he turns to you, you’re caught in that bewitching gaze, finding yourself at a loss for words yet again. “Anything else you need?” The words are laced with possibility, a dangerous challenge. But any gall you felt coursing through your veins has vanished without a trace. 

“No- I- I should get home,” your eyes drop, staring at a loose thread on his pants— and all at once, moving to leave the car. “Daddy’ll be mad if he catches me out.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s chuckling, repeating them.

“Daddy will be mad? You still call your father daddy?” And there’s the Yūji Terushima you thought you knew, mockery and taunts always at the tip of his tongue. You throw a weak punch against his chest, huffing in confusion. 

“What’s so wrong with that?” 

“Nothing,” He exclaims a bit too smugly, climbing out himself.

Next thing you know, you’re caught between his body and the hood of the car, sturdy arms trapping you in place. Chilled air nips at your bones; a single skim of his knee against your thigh and that cold is forgotten. You really should be at home. 

“Terushima.” It’s funny how a single word— a person’s name— can contain a thousand different meanings. You’re not even sure how you say it, questioning the inflections of your cracked voice and wide eyes. He whispers your name right back, the gleam in his eyes magnifying tenfold. 

You’re well aware he has you right where he wants you, a little bird caught in a cage, though you’re more than happy to be singing any song he asks. 

But there’s only silence as you stare at each other beneath the flickering street light. So much so, you can hear your hearts pump blood, can hear the engine of a car rumbling by, can even hear your neighbor’s pesky dog barking a block away. 

“Do you need something, or do you just like saying my na–”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. 

It feels different now. Perhaps your nerves aren’t frenzied, and you don’t attain euphoria with every graze. But you feel him. You can taste the smoke on his tongue as it knocks against your teeth. Black cherry floods your brain, the same flavor that drifted you up that cliffside to begin with. 

Terushima’s hands grab at your waist before you’re hoisted up and placed on the hood of the car. Gone are the lazy kisses of two heads in the clouds. His movements are quick and decisive, aggressive even. A hand roams your body, trailing under your tank and across your breasts. The other shoves aside your panties, nimble fingers circling your bud. 

A low whimper leaves you when he runs a digit across your slit. 

“Careful,” hot breath fans your lips as he chuckles, “too loud and he’ll hear us.” 

But you can’t stop your wanton mewls. Not when he dips into you, curling his fingertips to hit a spot that has you seeing stars. Not when his teeth nip at your jaw, your neck, the shell of your ear— leaving soft marks behind. And most certainly not when you can feel his cock straining against your thigh. 

“Fuck, Teru I–”  Within minutes, your entire body trembles, hands clutching at soft hair as you chase your high. 

“Tell daddy what you want,” his eyes pierce into yours, completely unashamed of his perversion of the pure term. You try to shake your head no, to refuse his order— but he simply flicks his wrist quicker, pumps into you faster. You’re so fucking close, too near the edge to care, so you simply allow the words to tumble out, 

“Daddy p-please, I want to cum.” 

A few circles on your clit, and you’re putty in his hands. The high hits you with a loud, leg-shaking cry— far more dizzying than any of the debaucheries of hours past. 

You’re flipped over without a moment to breathe, breasts rammed into the frigid car hood. Terushima pulls your skirt up with one hand, the other nudging your cheek firmly against the metal. 

Never would you have thought you’d be one for such public indecency, but the elation of your last orgasm still hasn't even completely resided. For the third time tonight, you find yourself drunk off the ambrosia of this wayward god.  

“Beg for it,” he slides his cock up your slit, coating his thick member in your slick. 

“Please Teru,” you whine helplessly. A loud slap echoes through the empty street as his hand meets the globe of your ass, the pain more shocking than painful. 

It reminds you that anyone could walk out of their homes to see you being railed against a beat up car— and the thought of one of your neighbors waking up to that sight wracks your body with a twisted pleasure. 

“What was that?” The bastard actually laughs, gruff and hearty, as you writhe against him. 

“Daddy, I need you.” And then he’s thrusting into you, pushing into the tight ring of muscle. Though he prepped you, you claw at the car, searching for any sort of relief from the overwhelming pain. 

A few snaps of his hips later, you relax as the stretch becomes bearable. He takes his time rutting into you, spreading your legs further, making sure you feel every inch of him deep inside you. 

Only when you begin bouncing back to meet his drives does he quicken his pace, a single hand gripping your waist— five finger-shaped bruises you’re sure will be evidence for days to come. You barely recognize your own voice; high-pitched wails spill from your lips, curses and pleas and cries of ‘daddy’ like a broken record on replay. 

“Look at the little slut, creaming all over me,” a particularly hard thrust sends you reeling, tears flowing freely down your face as you blabber mindlessly. “Who’d have thought the city’s very own ‘prude princess’ would be blacking out over some dick?” 

You should be ridiculed, would be utterly offended by the insult, if not for the fact that his cock has you teetering the delicate line of consciousness. Those words are precisely what send you over the edge for the second time tonight. 

“Fuck, stay right there,” a low, gravelly groan as Terushima continues pounding into you. Then, a few more prods and he’s following suit, pulling out to spill his seed all over your backside. 

Vision still spotty, you finally turn to look at the beautiful man, hoping for rosy cheeks and that soft smile you believe is a secret saved just for you. Instead you’re met with a dull frown and a look of pure apathy. 

He won’t even meet your eyes. 

“Can you walk the block or should I drive you?” Though he poses the question, the lack of his typical liveliness tells you everything you need to know about his preference: he doesn’t have one. 

Somewhere far away, you hear yourself tell him you’ll walk. Your head’s still caught on cloud nine, or perhaps it was only ever the ninth circle of hell—twisted and contorted by black cherry and rotten greens.

“Are you sure? You look a little shaken,” he laughs, that same hoarse tone you once thought charming now seeming gnarled and vicious. The taunts once endearing, now simply malicious. 

From the corner of your eye you spot his phone, unlocked and teeming with messages. A flash of a familiar black leather skirt bunching, a flip of your hair, pieces of your purity plastered across his screen for the world to see. 

You walk back home in silence. 

[cheesygroove]

With a roll of the ice

pairing: Wheein x f!reader

c & ws: smut; ice play; sensory deprivation; mentions of alcohol; a lil swearing.

wc: 2k~

requested by anon

Round ice cube molds. You could have just gone for a regular plastic ice tray, the cheaper option at the store. But if it can serve a sexual purpose, why not? The process of moving to a new place with your girlfriend had you overanalyzing the simplest home utensils you needed. It was good to have that kind of freedom to choose.

Wheein just had the simpler intentions for it, though. One night, you came home to find her drinking alone at the still empty living room, lights all turned off. The lighted up fireplace was the sole reason you could see her, sitting with legs crossed and a glass in hand. A bunch of bottles, a second glass and her sketchbook, as well as her drawing materials, were all scattered around the floor.

"Whee, what are you doing...?" you asked while taking your shoes off. "I thought your group photoshoot was tomorrow," you worried about her drinking; better to not have to deal with a headache on the next day.

"I'm just having some coke. The alcohol is for you," she explained. "Can you get the ice for us?"

Not wanting to ruin the mood she set up, you used your phone flashlight to walk to the kitchen. There, you grabbed an ice bucket and emptied the silicone trays inside, shaking it a little to prevent the round cubes from sticking together.

"I would have picked it up before, but I didn't want it to melt before you arrived," Wheein said when you came back and placed the bucket on the floor.

"It's okay, babe," you assured, kissing her cheek tenderly after sitting by the fireplace with her. "Anxious because of work?"

She let out a sigh. You knew her really well.

"Getting better already, actually. It's good to have you here." Wheein smiled at you, stroking your knee with her hand. "I just needed to relax a little. Tomorrow is going to be a full day."

You nodded, reaching for a glass and the bottle of flavored vodka. Being so close to the fireplace, you reconsidered the idea of picking a drink that would burn you up even more. The current warmth was nice and it felt cozy, but it could be too much if you added more heat to it.

"Settling for the coke too? What a saint you've become," Wheein teased. A soft drink could be nice too, you thought, leaving your now full glass on the floor to look at her. She held a round ice cube between her thumb and index finger, rolling it slightly by moving both fingers in opposite directions. Well, now that brought you some thoughts back.

"This kind of... feels good," Wheein said, puppy-like eyes entertained with the water now dripping from her thumb, "it doesn't get sticky when it melts a little. And it rolls."

Right. It rolls. You pictured something like that, back at the store, wondering if it really would have this effect against her skin. Not simply dragging the ice across, but rolling it, gave a different perspective to everything. You bit your lip in excitement, now knowing your fantasy was real.

And well, why not feel this for yourself? One hand went to the bucket, but you needed both to get the ice out — it got stuck together. You appreciated the round shape inside of your mouth, rolling it around with your tongue, feeling your warmth slowly melting it. You sucked on the ice a little bit, stopping when Wheein's eyes met yours.

"You look really sexy doing this," she remarked. A side smirk allowed one of her dimples to show up, which turned into a laugh after you touched your own cheek, feeling the small ball formed by the ice. "So pretty."

You admired Wheein for a moment. Weak shadows danced around her figure, following the movement of the flames; hair recently dyed red held up in a neat bun, leaving her neck fully exposed. Around it she wore a bandeau, neatly positioned so that it didn't cover her Caddo tattoo. You found that detail particularly inviting, and added to the fact that she clearly wasn't wearing a bra...

"Why don't you try this too?" you suggested. The ice had melted already, but the cold sensation it left in your mouth, somehow, had you feeling hotter between your legs. "You'll find the temperature contrast sexier than me."

Wheein's gaze went down to your mouth, filled with desire for your humid lips.

"Can I try it from your source?"

"Please do."

Wheein really did move first. The coolness of your mouth warmed up in hers, as she simply stole that from you by chasing the kiss with all her greed. You felt like the flames from the fireplace itself had engulfed you when her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you to the floor with her. Although when your lips parted, she was the one craving to cool it down.

"Oh my," she was able to say while gasping for air. Holding you by the back of your neck with both hands, she placed a few more quick presses against your lips before speaking again, "Hmmmm. I liked that it was... unexpected. Your mouth felt so soft from the cold."

You smiled when her fingers delicately caressed your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Wheein had her eyes on something else while doing it, though. Still holding your weight over her body with your elbows, you looked over your shoulder to discover that she eyed the ice bucket.

"Wanna try that again? With more than a kiss?" you asked, full of a smug satisfaction because the question wasn't even necessary — Wheein's pleading face spoke for itself.

_____

"Love, you really trust me a lot for this, huh," you said while tying the bandeau to the back of her head to use it as a blindfold. Depriving her from the sense of sight was part of your original fantasy, a way to allow her to have a better focus on the hot and cold feeling.

Wheein sat between your spread legs, backing herself into your lap after you moved closer to the fireplace. The orange light of the fire was now able to fully glow on her naked body. The air felt thick and hot when you breathed in, and a little sweat started building up on your back.

"I trust you more than I probably should," she whispered, leaning on your shoulder to place a few kisses along your jawline, "but you always repay it well."

"Right," you agreed, gently undoing Wheein's bun and letting the hair fall on her shoulders, making contact with your bare chest. One hand gave it a gentle tug, while you stretched the other arm to reach for the ice bucket, taking a round ice out. It quickly started wetting your palm, being just perfect for what you wanted to do. You got her hair out of the way with a harsh pull, pressing the ice against her neck. "I always make you feel so good."

Wheein's first reaction was to recoil at the sudden cold feeling, gasping loudly, but you held the ice in place with a strong grip on her neck.

"Shhhh, Wheeinie," you whispered on her ear as her gasping slowly turned into moaning, pleased with you using your palm to roll the ice against her skin, "this is just a massage. We haven't even started yet."

When it melted into a piece too small to be rolled, you simply dragged it across her chest, stopping at an already hardened nipple. The sensation of her skin under your cooled fingers felt softer than usual, the increased sensitivity having you muttering a curse against the back of her neck. Your other hand fetched for more round ice while you still held her boob, squeezing her nipple. Water dripped from your fingers and rolled down her stomach.

"More. Please," Wheein begged impatiently. Her hands were on your thighs, which were reddening from her burying her nails on them every time you did something right. You hoped to see a mark there by the end of the night.

"If you keep hurrying me up, I won't be gentle," you warned, shoving the ice against the boob you had neglected before and holding it strongly. Wheein's scream at the sudden shock ended up in a loud cry, her back arching at you circling the cube around her nipple. "Is that what you want, huh?"

"Uh-huh," she was able to shout out in agreement between her delicious moans, head now dropped backwards onto your shoulder. You moved your body to the side so you could whisper directly at her ear.

"What a slut you are."

Wheein lustfully mumbled a few yes yes yes I am when you stressed that word, like she had done many times before. She gasped in surprise when you stopped rolling the ice on her nipple, and gasped even harder when you took that same nipple in your mouth. Sucking the cold out of it. What was left of that cube you used to roll down her body, leaving behind a trail of water and stopping just before her pussy.

"Did you make a mess on the floor, Wheein...?" you asked.

You had inclined your head forward to look at the space between her legs. With all the action, Wheein had her knees up and under her chin, throbbing cunt fully exposed to the hot air. She was dripping on the floor, so much was the arousal.

"Hmmmmm, no. There's a lot of ice melting here," she lied. You smirked while thinking of how you would punish Wheein for that, one hand drowned in the bucket and getting really cold. The round cubes were now slowly turning into water altogether, coming out already humid — which meant that you didn't need to wait before using it on her.

"I would've been way nicer to you, Whee," you said, "but you don't deserve it."

Ring and middle finger squeezed her labia on each side, making the hole wider for the ice. Her reaction to the intimate contact with the cold immediately showed that she wanted you to put it in, her nails definitely leaving your thigh scratched this time. Instead, you simply stimulated her entrance, rolling and rubbing the round ice against it, even letting just a tip in. Wheein moaned sweetly, whispering your name, almost begging you to fuck her.

You took the ice into your mouth before it fully melted, wanting to taste her liquid even if the water was mixed in. Wheein grunted in annoyance from that, but there wasn't time to take her protests further — the same fingers which squeezed her open before now slid with ease inside of her, producing sweet wet sounds with each pump in. Part of you wanted to grab more ice, to roll it on her skin, to do anything, but you couldn't do much when her moans and then screams of pleasure filled your ears. Your hand was soaked with her climax in almost no time.

"Mmmmhm... Can't believe you didn't..."

You laughed when her words kept trailing off — Wheein was absolutely spent. She tiredly dropped into your arms after her orgasm, trying but failing to sound her complaints. Now any warmth was welcome, yours or from the fireplace, her hands pressing yours against her body to hug her tighter.

"What? You really wanna complain when I left you in this state?" you scoffed while gently removing the bandeau she wore as a blindfold.

Wheein sat up to face you, narrowing her eyes and pouting her mouth. She trembled a bit, still lacking the necessary balance, but kept her posture.

"I... I... Fuck." She gulped and shook her head, recollecting herself. "I just wanted you to roll the ice inside of me!"

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