#*scenario

your breathing has grown heavier since you’ve taken your place in his lap. your whines have died down significantly as you adjust to his girth, but the few that escape when you twitch are agonizingly wanton and just as pleasing to his ears — he’s hardly laid a finger on you and you’re already falling over yourself. he feels your hips buck against his own, daring him to put an end to your misery and just fucking move.

“my lord, please...” your groans are but mere whispers, and he can almost hear the fear and unease in your voice. your acting has always left nothing to the imagination; no doubt, your eyes are trained on the unlocked double doors at the far end of the main meeting room. someone could walk in at any moment and witness you in compromising position. they’d be better off dead if they spread any rumors, of course, but you can’t bear the thought of being embarrassed in such a manner.

“speak or i’ll force it from you.” he grunts, far too tired of your incessant whining to place any further delicacy in his words. he turns his attention back to the paperwork littering his desk, disregarding the soft whimper that made it past your lips. you instinctively turn your head to meet his gaze, but a large hand clamps down on your hip and holds you in place, the other quick to clasp your chin and force your gaze forwards. “and sit still... unless you’d prefer heading to your room without any clothes.”

your breathing stagnates, quick to comply where your mind dissents. an affirmative hum acknowledges his command. you’re more than aware of your nakedness even without his scolding. the sooner you can please him, the sooner you can escape the mortifying ordeal of getting caught in the first’s lap.

“y-yes, my lord. i apologize, i...” the words nearly choke you. ““i just can’t take it much longer.” you finally manage out, deliberately lowering your voice to a near pleading intonation. he is fond of that, you’ve come to learn, if the way his grip tightens around your hips was any indication. you’re playing a dangerous game; pierro isn’t one to show emotion past what was needed, and to draw out such a primal response from him was nothing short of exhilarating.

“is that so, little one?” he asks, and you feel a wave of hot relief wash over your naked body. that pet name of his, although degrading, is a good sign, an indicator that you’re getting through to him. he exhales deeply, adjusting himself against the seat, hips innocuously thrusting upward against your own. 

a loud moan rips itself from your lips before you have a chance to stifle it — the quiver and soft whine that follow weren’t nearly enough to satiate his longing. as much as he may complain, it wouldn’t do to have you stifle those sounds, would it? it isn’t often you display your desire for him in such a... lewd manner.

his finger twitches against the swell of your thigh. his voice is low when he leans into the nape of your neck and says, “and what do you plan to do about it?” his breath, hot against your neck, sends a shiver rolling down your spine. he bucks upward deliberately this time, and a delightful moan rolls off your tongue on cue. “you’re enjoy this,” he comments, relishing in the twitch of your shoulders as you stifle the urge to deny him.  “you yearn for me. don’t you, little one?”

“...” you hesitate to reply, unsure of how to respond to such a blatant observation of your person. it’s too late for you to regret the prolonged silence — his body tenses from behind you, and he has to stop himself from slamming you against the table and fucking you into absolute obedience. this defiance won’t last long. it’ll pacify you, placate you, but it won’t last longer than a few moments. within seconds, you’ll be squeezing his cock in that tight hole of yours, begging for a release only he can provide. 

but there’s no need for that, yet. giving into your pitiful squeaks would be no lesser than feeling pity for the squeals of a dying animal.

the hand on your hip is on your mouth in seconds, forcing your head into the crook of his neck. the harsh bristles of his beard scrape against your forehead, and you choke on your spit trying to gasp. even you’re unsure if it’s from lust or fear. he looks down at look like he would an insect, and for a split second, you wonder if he’ll crush your skull.

no...he isn’t done with you yet. 

“don’t you, little one?” he growls. there’s no emotion on his face when he asks you this, but you know what he wants. for you to give in. to whimper and beg for him more. to say with your body exactly what you want him to do with you.

tears prick the alcoves of your eyes, but you slowly nod. a hand hurriedly rests on his inner thigh and you hope it’s enough to convey your meaning.

“mm...” he hums and shoves a gloved finger into your mouth. your tongue quickly coils around the appendage, licking the dirty gloves clean if it means he’ll go easier on you tonight. the harsh look in his eyes doesn’t provide any sign of approval or comfort, but he lets you toy with his finger like a dog.

“you’ll know your place once i’m finished with you.”

“ … Gen.”

Senku catches the latter’s attention just by the mumbling of his name, with Gen halting midway just before he could take a bite of the deliciously made cotton candy, fresh out of the machine. An imaginative question mark appears at the side of his head, as Gen waits for him to finish his thought.

This might as well be held as a delicacy to the primitives, along with fox tail millet ramen which can still be altered a little for the modern tongue.

“About Homura, do you know what kind of woman she is?” There’s not much to over think this, his motives are purely over negotiations, and possible allies …  

Though someone snorts in excitement.

“What’s this? So even Senku can be interested in a girl, eh?” Ginro completely twists up the meaning, loudly announcing it so everyone could hear. He knows that’s probably not the case, but curiosity fails to stop him from asking all together. This is a boy who’s thoughts mainly revolve around the most dubious of things, he thinks there must be some truth in the awaited answer, “Wow? So do you like petite girls, do ya? You do, don’t ya? Hmmmmm ~”

With literal, golden stars beaming rampantly out of his emerald eyes, elbow repeatedly pushing themselves through the sides of who the question was intended for.

Senku deadpans. This is the total opposite of what he wanted, he needed an answer – not an unrelated inquiry to be sent his way. He is confident that the blondie’s brain has definitely died out before reaching its peak, that, or he’s been exposed to brain eating amoeba much earlier than expected. Though of course, that’s just a fun little theory he had in mind.

How does the Ishigami village handle a guy like him anyways, let alone trust him?

Just by that conversation, that’s when your ears couldn’t help but pick up everything you’ve just heard like the other villager girls who crept even closer for comfort – at this rate, who didn’t have a thing for him? From that unrestrained, strange hair to the natural-looking outfit he must’ve made himself … Everything about him, was just plain exciting. He never fails to surprise anyone.

…

Perhaps you liked him a little …

Too much for your own comfort.

You couldn’t help it ! Though you’d show it through the silent admiration, watching him build all sorts of things at a respectable distance. Senku was smart – frighteningly smart, maybe that’s why you were unable to get close. He was someone your village absolutely needed ages ago, and now, with such advanced sorcer – no, science at their hands, there were so many new things no one wouldn’t ever thought of trying out back then. Or maybe that’s just you … Chrome and Kaseki seems to have a knack for catching onto things really fast, all bearing their own known talents that can be exploited to someone’s use.

You on the other hand, do absolutely nothing but gawk. The most you could do is assist Kohaku in hoisting barrels of steaming hot water for the priestess … Well, you did help Chrome in gathering those weird looking rocks not too long ago – but that was nothing compared to the rest !

Even she’s asked if you wanted to give them a hand towards the beginning, sweat glistening off her forehead as she wipes it off at ease from the hard work she’s put into assisting the timeless scientist, and the … sciencer.

You couldn’t reply then, unable to stutter out ‘Please ! I would die to,’ because some cruel witch has decided to put a curse onto your tongue that day ! Or maybe you were just too shy to be within his company, it’s not often a passerby comes by and is allowed to step foot into their domain. You were sure, even if you had the boiling courage to come near him, the efforts would die down in vain when you’d probably end up staring at him in awe.

Would you dare embarrass yourself in front of him, haha, no !

As expected, the scientist does not care enough to answer – those who knew him well enough seemed to clear the obvious misunderstanding, mutually annoyed as well. They’ve been with him for over a year already, and they still believe some genius like him would show any interest.

Funny joke.

This has you strangely even more curious. Has the knowledge taken over his brain for so long (you assume), that he doesn’t even have the time to think over establishing intimate relationships ? … Well it made sense to you the more you let your mind wander, and considering that he’s been here for more than decades, he promises to rebuild civilization once again with science, and tech .. techolgy.

That is amazing.

Yet, a small part of you hopes that behind that bored exterior of his, there’s some love to spare …

F-For … for …

For you.

Sheesh, what are you even thinking.

You’ve never been more interested in the night sky before he got here.

So why, why does it peak your interest now out of all times? Winter is still as chilling as it were 3,700 years ago, nature – hasn’t changed and will continue to not, pulling the home-made fur jacket over your shoulders to harness more warmth so the goosebumps on your skin disappear. The effervescence of the stars spreads across the deep blue sky, and tang orange rests right above the horizon – colors you never learned to appreciate but now.

Beautiful.

To take advantage over the most littlest things in life, has you almost spiting yoursel –

“Hm? What’s this, [Name] out and about? Don’t wanna stay inside near the fire any longer.“

You leaped high in the air in fear, for a voice to break your thoughts is surely startling when the idea of someone sneaking behind you as you basked quietly to yourself seemed nonexistent. The gravity pulls down, and your tailbone hits the log you were comfortably perched on moments before – hissing as the pain throbs for a second, or two. You’d rub your soon-to-be bruise to ease the pain, until you realized, oh no, they’re watching you rub your damn bum.

And above all, that someone just had to be him.

“S-Senku ! Um … nothing ! Just enjoying the stars out there !” Hand flying back to your face to cover up the humiliation that currently brews, fast and prominent.

Could this situation get any worse for you?

“ … So it seems, interested in those little bastards up there? Fortunately for you – it’s not too far out of my area,” he grins rather madly, fitting really, just before the ramble starts over a subject you are nowhere near your level of understanding. Intricate, complex wording gets spewed every second if that wasn’t confusing enough to you. Apparently, stars, yadadada, are very hot … that’s what you could pick up from his explanation to why they exist.

“U–Um … right.”

Various spirals formed in your eyes, spinning vehemently – trying to recall at least one thing and regurgitate it back to him to show that you totally get it.

… Surprise, you couldn’t.

“Uh huh,” a smirk rubs all over his lips, “too much to handle?”

“ … That’s mean, you don’t even have to try to make fun of me, I already do enough of that myself,” your murmurs are borderline ashamed. Not that it can go any lower than it already is but, did he really have to go beating at your pride even more? Do you even have any left at this point?

“All the more fun for me ~ ♪ ” he hums in glee.

You huffed, mild annoyance filling the air. What a stinky man, well not literal – he smells quite lovely if we’re talking about his scent. What you actually meant was that he was quite good at pulling your nerves, people’s nerves.

“.. Okay.”

And it’s when the soft laughter of Senku’s, died down instantaneously. It is not as if he’s came here for light talk from you, there’s something else poking at his mind when his attention shifts to you.

Ruby eyes peering deeply into your soul.

“But [Name], you’re not even a moderate liar, I don’t even have to be ten billion percent sure to know that you’re thinking of something else. It helps to share your problems with others, you know, let me relieve some of that stress you got there on your puny shoulders.” With his elbow perched on his knee, hand glued to the right of his cheek, he stares curiously – waiting for your next move cautiously.

The same way how a predator looks at their prey.

.. nOOOOOOO.

“If you insist,” you’re holding your breath for some reason, “but … is there … perhaps, some traits you find attractive in some-somebody?”

His eyebrow scrunches up in disarray, eh?

“Aaah don’t get the wrong i-idea ! Just, the girls asked if … I could do it for them, you know.” Your voice drowns more into the background the longer you try to explain yourself, which is pointless if you’re asking him, he sees right through you like a fine piece of glass. Even someone like Ginro could tell, the body language you’re fully displaying isn’t hiding the signs of you crushing hard.

It’s a little pathetic, but cute at the same time.

“They’re going to ask someone … who barely talks, to do the dirty work?”

“Yes… funny right.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, yea - you’re funny alright.

… Hm …

“I’ll tell you if you promise to keep these fine details away from anyone.”

With you nodding excitedly to be the first one to hear classified information, Senku catches you by surprise by gaining even closer, closing the gap between you two. He comes staggeringly near just to whisper a bunch of words that definitely sends your heart racing miles, and miles away.

Those who get excited over the littlest things, brings me plenty of materials behind the scenes, and is completely unaware that the person they are crushing on may like you back.

If you hadn’t exploded from the amount of Senku interaction in a day, than surely, you must’ve did now. With his hot breath hitting the outside of your ear gently, it’s hard to comprehend what exactly has been said.

“I … I see.” No, no you didn’t, he knows that too.

“And that is all … but to be clear, I was never interested in anyone romantically, I thought that was pretty obvious.” N-Never? Your shoulders started to sink the more he talks. Of course he’s quick to notice the dejection oozing out of you. Have patience, bird brain, you already gave up when he was just about to wrap up this all up, “Well, not until a certain bonehead came into my life, that is.”

Then the clock in your head finally starts to move.

Processing the last sentence slowly yes, but at least now you’re somewhat able to get a hint … Wait a second, i-is he talking about you? Or is this you being delusional at this point?

Ah, whatever.

That’s enough for you to throw your arms around his neck eagerly, completely neglecting the fact that he wasn’t really fond of this sort of thing to begin with. You can feel his body tense up immediately upon contact, and the dread starts to kick in. Oh no you messed up, you babbled internally. The fear is so strong, arms being yanked away, letting you shrivel up in your own self-pity.

Only for a second or two, because, Senku reels you back in – encasing you in his uncertain arms. He’s weirdly warm unlike all those times you’ve seen him chide at others, and you’d try to bask in all the heat that you can before this gets pulled away from you so suddenly.

…

“Okay, enough already.”

His finger instinctively pushes you away by your forehead, lightly. He’s been counting the seconds that passed by when you two exchanged the fair share of love through a warm hug, making sure that it doesn’t go over seven. Affection isn’t something he can get used to instantaneously, seeing it through the couples that pass by, brief tv shows that quickly lose his interest, and they aren’t as fascinating than the materials he’s read countless day-by-day. What was in it for him at the time?

But Senku will admit, love is still as important. Is it equally as significant as science? Well, he’s going to find out soon enough.

So it does not hurt to give you a chance, there’s lots and lots of things he still has yet to discover.

And that is what makes it exhilarating.

“Huuuuh? Senkuuuu, that was too short to be called a hug, again !” you pouted.

“Don’t be greedy now - idiot - you’re much more exuberant than I’d hypothesized.”

Unfortunately, the second hug you’d crave soon after wasn’t bestowed … but, you’d feel a light pat or two atop your head, bringing your attention right up to see what was wrong. That’s when you’d notice how his face was much, much closer than you’d anticipated. Whilst you stuttered over a garbled mess of sounds that nobody could decipher but a mentalist, he for one, seems to enjoy this all too well.

Another chuckle leaves his lips, a devious one.

“Kukuku, now you have to help out with the workload like everyone else. I see how longingly you stare at us from afar, you’ve been dying to help us all this time. That is why I don’t want any slacking from you especially, [Name].”

Senku sports a mischievous grin, clearly with ulterior motives in mind, but that is expected of someone who also sees the benefits in people he familiarizes himself with. That is only human. He can’t let the opportunity go down the garbage chute, they are in need of more hands to get even closer towards the objective. You’ll do it, won’t you? No, scratch that, you have to, you’ll be working hard for his affection from there on out. Putting him through that cringe moments before, do people adore it that much? Hmph, love his ass.

It is only fair you’ll be worked to the core.

How cruel of him.

But even so, you couldn’t hold back a smile, clear happiness filling your eyes. Blindingly bright, might he say, could rival the sun.

“Yes !”

+ bonus

“Do we have to make some ailment for your butt before we start?”

1. taking turns - a reader x sasuke fic

this was based on an idea i put int a post a long while ao, of... if sasuke had to wait four years until mc showed up in the sengoku era, then would the same potentially happen but reversed? cause i liked the idea a lot. reader coming to honno-ji every day despite having to juggle reclaim their past life (cause, come on, absence of three months is gonna do Sumn to your daily life and things surrounding it, like your rent, job, etc.) and i like subtle angs/comfort once sasuke Does come out of the wormhole.

2. a necessity they can’t see. - a male reader x yoshimoto fic. 

this was at the time where i created my genderbent mai drawing? so i very much had the idea that male reader, who pertained the same hobbies like sewing and all, has always been ridiculed in the present for having a “girly” hobby. while i have yet to research about... gender “norms” in the sengoku period, i feel like men at that time at least have the Duty to fight in war or sumn right? some sorts like that. so my idea was that reader started doubting his abilities and his use to the people that protects him.

so while thinking Deeply on his worth and if he can do anything further, he bumps into yoshimoto while he’s browsing some pretty shit idk. yoshimoto sees the way that reader looks at the fabric with obvious expertise, although reader tries to scold himself for thinking about art in such a warring time.

talking talking stuff, which basically leads to yoshimoto saying his stance on art as an existence even in such a time. because to him, and my own personal belief, art is in a way, a necessity. perhaps you wouldn’t die without a lack of art like you would food or water, but in such a trying time, art would be invaluable because it’s an effect on the mental state/spirit than anything, and i’m sure we’ve all felt this especially during quarantine.

then reader basically goes “.............. oh. thanks yoshimoto.” and goes back to azuchi a changed perspective.

3. swap scenario - ikesen x ikevamp x ikerev crossover

honestly not a proper wip, but it just hit me like a freight train that i had this idea in the first place.  gist was, the mc’s for each game got transported to each others’ worlds, with ikevamp mc -> ikerev, ikerev mc -> ikesen, and ikesen -> ikevamp. most of the mc personalities and names are kinda my own hcs.

(also important to note that ikepri wasn’t as big as a thing back then, nor do i even know anything abt ikepri now to brainstorm ideas)

let’s start with the first one, ikevamp mc in the ikerev universe. i think this may be the most, uhh normal maybe? ikevamp mc is shown to travel around and be multilingual, so the fact that it’s set in britain wouldn’t have a language barrier issue. also i think ikevamp mc would be very interested in (i think it was) 19s britain? even if it isn’t exactly britain but, close enough.

ikesen mc in ikevamp. i believe it’s been established before at Some point that they can speak english? or at least passed,, english tests idk. i remember seeing screencaps of nobunaga being like “yo shit u can read english?” and mc is like “yeah, i passed the whatever test back in something something”. and i’m not sure the scope of everyone in the mansion’s languages are, what they can and can’t speak, but at least english is a good starting point yeah?

ikesen mc, i imagined to be wary and maybe rough around the edges at first. i mean, last time they got transported back in time they met with warlords that did,,, unconventional things outside of the laws of her time. so when they’re put into the mansion with seemingly dead historical men, they can’t elp but be a bit cautious due to past experiences. but comte, as he always is,welcomes them as gently as he can, knowing that the whole situation is,,, disorienting, to put it in a word. he invites them to tea, talk over stuff and explain things to them as clear as he can, and slowly, realizing that these people don’t rlly bite (well. metaphorically they don’t. hopefully), mc starts warming up to them. also i like the idea of mc being super interested in the way of fashion and textiles back in 19th century france and just seeing the light in their eyes spark up so wildly now that they can see it up close.

finally, ikerev mc in ikesen. whoo boy. so to start things off, i think the main idea i had would be to try and bridge ikerev mc’s very clear disparity in the language barrier. iiii don’t recall if mc knew any other languages, but i’d assume 16th century japanese isn’t one of them,, or maybe even japanese at all. idk how language education was for 19th~ century britain. but yeah, the first hurdle to overcome is the fact that they don’t rlly speak the same language, especially when the warlords are confused that this person just showed up out of nowhere and might be more. rough around the edges. wary

you were unassuming, fragile in every sense of the word. he feared that if he touched you too harshly, you would shatter. he feared that, should you be swept up by his winds, you would split into two; and one half would remain, here in his arms, but you would no longer move. you would no longer blink and you would no longer cry and you would no longer run. because he feared that, should he get too close, he would kill you too.

but loneliness is a friend he is no longer fond of.

“why do you visit so often?”

the trees are screaming now, and he wonders how long it’ll be before you do too. but you’re looking at him the way you always do, your lips are pulled into a smile that washes over him like a wave; this time, he finds himself welcoming it. the ebb and flow of your waters is intoxicating, cool against skin that is otherwise hot with anger and resentment. when he’s next to you, he no longer feels like he’s burning alive.

this was inevitable. this feeling...

“i’ve come to appreciate your company.” comes his simple response. to most, keeping his company is dangerous. the vengeful spirits of fallen archons are like shackles on his limbs; the fight, eternal, and he, just as immortal. and yet you sit here humming a tune he has grown fond enough to memorize, a song you mentioned was a childhood favorite. he once asked why you hum it in his presence, and you explain he looked like he needed it.

this is who he fights to protect.

there is a certain profundity to pain. too little of it, and you take peace for granted. too much of it, and it becomes dull. in his solitude, the weight of his sins is heavy, but it is a burden he must bear alone even when the pain becomes too much. but life is not meant to be lived in extremes, but that is all adeptus xiao has ever known. to kill in order to save, to die in order to live. his world is painted in either black or white.

and yours? yours is painted in color.

when he met you, the blacks and the white he had grown accustomed to had slowly begun to dissipate like air. it was the little things, the absolutely mundane aspects of living that xiao had forgotten to appreciate. he’s come to learn that you see beauty in everything, just as he’s come to learn that it’s infectious.

“would you prefer i leave?” the question strikes a chord, but he asks it anyway. it’s better if you say yes.

but you don’t. you never do.

“no. i appreciate your company too.”

the cup of tea nestled between his palms is glistening with color. and when he looks up, so are you.

( he’s found solace, it’s only a matter of time before that, too, is lost. )

Eyes pin to the screen like it’s religion; his mind is filled with you.

Every breath his lungs inhale, every touch his fingers find, every sight his eyes attend—he only knows of you. Wants to know every part of you—to know every twitch, every moan, every sound you'll make beneath him. Like a loyal disciple at the altar, he wants to burn the image of your face behind his eyelids, wants to sear the touch of your skin onto his hands, wants to brand your existence into his skin. He wants you, he needs you—he’ll have you.

And he wants everyone to know.

Fifteen.

The you before him is unfamiliar even in his wildest dreams—this is the first time he’s seen you so bare, so exposed, your body naked and pressed flushed against his chest. Warm thighs press one breast flat against your rib cage, and he hungrily prods the other away to rest his sweaty hand against your nipple, rubs the sensitive bud between his thumb and index, and admires the way you twitch at his touch. You’re dead silent—biting back shameful moans and ugly tears; he’d prefer hearing you cry out his name over and over, but he doesn’t hold that desire to you. His eyes are still pinned to the screen and he can see the fear in your eyes—the adoration in his. 

Twenty.

His viewers see the same thing he does, but they don’t know you. They just see another pretty face, another pretty hole getting stuffed, but they don’t see you. He’s not like them, he promises, swears. They don’t see the you he sees—they don’t get to touch, or smell, or kiss you. They don’t love you, they don’t get to love you—the closest they’re offered is the image of your tear-stained face on the screen, their disgusting hands jerking off their cocks as they fantasize about fucking you themselves.

Disgusting—but he can’t blame them. Normally, he’s not one to show you off like this—wouldn’t want anyone seeing you like this, but the thought of randoms jerking themselves off to you as he stuffs your cunt silly makes him drunk with desire. They can’t have you—and he can’t feel envious. He was in their position not too long ago, rubbing one out once or twice or thrice a day to the thought of your body against his and the thought of your little cunt stuffed tight. He doesn’t have to fantasize anymore. You’re in his arms right now—the reality of it all is shown on the screen and neither of you can’t look away. 

You’re finally his.

All that’s left is for you to—

“Say it...” He chastises, chants, orders in a tone that’s hardly commanding—and you flinch. “[Name], say it, say it. Please say it.” Devilish eyes travel along the screen, admires the twitch of your thighs pressed against your stomach, admires the slick on your folds as his cock bottoms out in your cunt. “Say it—I’ll do anything to hear you say it.”

If you’re his religion, those words are his prayer. Say it, say it, say it—say it for everyone to hear.

Your mouth stays closed.

Hips snap into yours hard and force you backward into his bare chest. His cock easily slips in and out of your wet cunt, the tips of his cocks rough against taut inner walls. The stretch of his penises still make your hips jerk upward for escape, but his fingernails dig into your flesh to keep you anchored against his waist. The gasp of pain on your lips hardly has time to manifest into little more than a whimper, and in your delirium, your eyes wander back to the screen. You see your hair disheveled, eyes wide like prey before a predator—and you see the numbers rising. 

Fifty.

Red—the red number how many people are watching you be violated. The red signifying that the viewer count keeps going up, up, up. The red signifying proof—proof you’ve never felt so low in your life.

“L-Levi, please... t-they’re watching, they can see us, I—” The words are sandpaper against your throat; the pleas on your lips are a prayer he blissfully ignores. Terrified to glance over your shoulder, your eyes flash to meet his through the screen just in time to witness sharp canines sinking into the delicate, thin flesh of your neck. He’s gentle, gentler than you expected, but the thrill of being watched by real people eggs him on; he suckles and nips into your skin without warning, never once looking away from the screen. You whimper and whine against his chest, finding the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipples wrong.

“No...” He breathes in your skin and hoists your ass closer to his hips. Pain shoots through your nearly-numbed legs at the sudden repositioning, and your body tenses. “Don’t care, let them watch... just lemme hear you.” A hand rests against your labia and collects slick against his fingers. You inhale sharply, watching him give your clit a quick pinch before bringing his spoils to your face. “You’re so wet. You’re wet for me.” He reveres, peering past your hair to admire the sight of your cum coating his fingers.

You can’t look any longer.

“Please...” His chin dips against your neck and drool trickles onto your shoulder, frigid against heated skin. He kisses the area between your jaw and ear and asks you again. “Say it for me, only me.” Eyes flicker to the screen, pretends the people watching are his brothers, pretends he’s won. “Say you belong to me.”

You’re in a daze. You don’t want to do it, don’t want to do this. And you get it in your head that if just you say it, just say that you belong to him, it’ll be over. It’ll all be over—he’ll turn off the camera and delete the video. He’ll say he didn’t mean it, he’ll say he’ll do anything to make it up to you. And you’ll forgive him—and it’ll be normal again.

So you say it.

“’m...yours, Levi.” You gasp. You tear your eyes from the screen, and your head lulls to the side in defeat. It’s over, you’ll wake up. Everything will be the same—“I’m yours, only yours! Only wanna be yours—nn!”

Luminescent cum coats his stiff cock, mixes with the white of your cum, and he stills, watches them mix together and drip from deep in your cunt. The sick clap of skin against skin is gone and silence settles over the room like smog. You don’t look up, don’t make a sound—the camera’s still on and you don’t wanna face it. He’ll turn it off, turn it off soon, turn it off and forget about it and everything’ll be okay again.

You didn’t expect him to laugh.

It’s uncontrollable, the way his giggles turn from lighthearted to insane. The pit in your stomach swells and bursts—you can taste blood and bile against your throat. His nose buries itself in the apex of your shoulder, revels in the scent of your sweat and shampoo; his laughter vibrates in your stomach and you want to puke.

He’s still looking at the camera, still reveling in the afterglow.

One hundred fifty.

One hundred fifty people watched you get fucked live—watched you get held down and creampied. One hundred fifty people watched you and didn’t help. 

This must be a sick dream.

But you can’t deny it. He owns you, he owns you now—the proof’s right there in your cunt, right there on video, right there for everyone to see. He doesn’t have to mark you in front of his brothers—it wouldn’t come close to the thrill of claiming you as his in front of this many people. Your body’s coated with proof, with sweat and tears and cum smattered across your stomach and thighs.

“I love you.” Lips press against the curve of your neck, uttering praise and adorations. You don’t have the energy to shove him away. He scoops the mixed cum from your thighs and spreads it across your skin, loves seeing it cover more and more of your person. “So happy,” he mumbles into your skin. “Love you so much.” He sighs in bliss and stares back at the screen. You’re still not looking at him, but he doesn’t mind. He’s used to seeing you look at other men—at his brothers.

But that’s changed. You fucked him and he’s got it on video, a precaution if you ever turn around and say you don’t feel anything for him. There’s no ‘you and his brothers’—only you and him. He’ll never forget this moment—he’ll always remember this moment. 

He made sure of it.

Interestingly enough, you had recently acquired the same game and made several favorable comments on it. One of which was how easily you could lose yourself in it; afternoons turned to evenings in a blink of an eye. But even you took breaks. So naturally, you became extremely curious about his island. The amount of work he was putting into it could only mean the outcome will be superb, no doubt in your mind about it.

As the days continued to pass with him glued to the screen of his switch, you tried to steal peeks over his shoulders, to no avail. Every time you crept up from behind, he'd swivel in his chair or shift around so you couldn't see. No amount of pouts or whines helped your case either he was standing firm on his position of not letting you see or visit his island until it was complete.

You soon got your wish, though, only about two weeks later, but it was certainly worth the wait.

Apparently, Kenma had spent the whole time collecting and reproducing every flower and color variation there was in the game. All so he could create a garden, just for you. But that was not all. Now that he had achieved his goal, he eagerly invited you over to his island and guided you through the garden, right to the heart of it, where a beautiful arrangement of your favorite flowers stood. And in the middle of the flowers was a sign, with one simple word on it, prom.

That's when he looked up at you from his screen, for the first time in ages, it seemed. He held your gaze as a soft pink dusted his cheeks. "Will you go to prom with me?"

Feeling some heat on your own, you beamed. "Yes, please."

Bonus:

After all the time he'd spent on the garden, you refused to let him get rid of it. Besides, you wanted to keep it as a memory of that day. Not only did you visit it often afterward, but you even made custom designs of your prom outfits to take pictures of you both in the garden as well.

The only way you are ever going to let him get rid of it is if he recreates it for your future house.