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arc-misadventures · 24 days

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So, for your consideration for the VTuber line. VTubers tend to have their specific circles, their regular collab groups. In every group, there is always one in particular who just can't help but suffer from scuff almost every stream, and there is always the one who fills the role of group tech support. I feel like Jaune would absolutely be the tech support for his circle. If that's the case, then who'd be your scuff queen/king. Someone we've already met? Or somebody who has yet to be introduced? Maybe I'm wrong, and Jaune is the scuff king. I'm curious to see what you'd do with this thought.

The VTuber: Circles Within Circles

Among the vast, VTubing community there tending to be many circles of, VTubers that tended to exclusively interact with one another, be this because of similar interests, or from hailing from the same academy, or in some occasions being a part of the same family. There was always a circles one could find someone being apart of.

Such as the quartet that was, CookieMonster, SushiandShibari, DraGunShow, and IHateMyDad2.0. While Cookie, and DraGun were half-sisters, the four of them all hailed from, Beacon Academy, both the agency, and fictional academy, and were once part of the same Huntress team back in the day.

This was just one of many examples of circles being formed, and made by the various, VTubers. However, there was always the outliers of this trend. Then again, he was always the outliner of any particular group.

But, what would one expect from the lone wolf of the VTubing community: ErrantyPaladain.

If the circles among the VTuber community were to be made into a Venn diagram, Errant would be smack dab right in the middle of all of them. Just like when he played, 'The World of Remnant: Hunter's, and Monsters.' A Huntsmen of no, Academy nor a single nation. The vagabond of Hunters' as he was sometimes referred to as.

ErrantPaladin would, as he often still does, would join any VTuber for the occasional collab if asked to, regardless of which VTuber, or agency asked him to. But, in the end just as always, he stood alone.

Some may see this as a weakness that. ErrantryPaladin possessed. But, many would see this as a benifit for one to gain his unique perspective that others often overlooked, or never saw.

The Genshin Impact update was one such example:

~~~

SushiandShibari: I don't understand why they couldn't just add more diverse characters to this latest update!

DraGunShow: What are you talking about; The latest update added some pretty interesting roaster of characters, what's wrong with the new characters they added?

SushiandShibari: They didn't add any diverse characters! Look at them, that's basically a tan! Why not add some black characters to the game? It should have more diversity in it!

DraGunShow: I wouldn't mind seeing some more diverse characters to the game. I mean, they all look pretty similar to one another.

SushiandShibari: Exactly! This is what many of the, English voice actors have been saying! There should be more diverse characters, then it just being a bunch of white people!

DraGunShow: Okay...? Look, Sushi, I'm not really sure about what should be done about this, and I don't really think I'm an expert on... any of this. Why don't we ask someone else, and get their opinion on this?

SushiandShibari: Fine. But, who are you going to ask?

DraGunShow: Let's see who's on...

DraGunShow: Hmmm...

DraGunShow: Ahh! Errant's online! Let's ask him!

SushiandShibari: Do you seriously want his opinion, or do you just want to talk to him?

DraGunShow: Don't you?

SushiandShibari: ...

SushiandShibari: Call him.

DraGunShow: I've already done it~!

...

ErrantryPaladin: Hello, DraGun. May I be of some sort of service?

DraGunShow: Hi, Errant! Is this a bad time?

ErrantryPaladin: No, I was just playing a few rounds of, Sins of a Solar Empire 2. But, I can pause it.

DraGunShow: Oh good! Sushi, and I have been having this debate, and well... I don't know much about it. So we were wondering if you could add your two cents to it.

ErrantyPaladin: Possibly. What is this debate about?

SushiandShibari: We're debating about how the latest update to. Genshin Impact isn't diverse enough, and that they should be more inclusive, and add more characters of more diverse back grounds. A lot of the, English voice actors are in agreement that, Genshin should add more diverse characters, and how the game should be more inclusive!

ErrantryPaladin: Ahh, that pointless argument.

SushiandShibari: P-Pointless?

DraGunShow: What do you mean by that?

ErrantryPaladin: What I mean is the, Genshin Impact is a, Chinese game made by a, Chinese company. They do not give a damn about inclusivity. And, the complaints people are making about that will only fall upon deaf, and uncaring ears.

SushiandShibari: What? What do you mean, surly they care what their player base thinks?

ErrantyPaladin: Not really, no. Listen, this isn't a western game company where a dozen people on, X can complain about something, and cause the game studio to change everything about it just because their encouraged to do to some higher ups being detached from reality, and being swayed by cheap coin.

ErrantryPaladin: This is a Chinese company, they are going to do things their way, and their way only.

SushiandShibari: But, they already have so many white characters, why can't...?!

ErrantryPaladin: Whoa whoa whoa! Did you say, 'white?' Sushi. they're, Chinese. Everyone in the game is based off of, Chinese characteristics. There is nothing 'white' about any of them.

DraGunShow: What are you talking about, a lot of their character designs look... white?

ErrantryPaladin: Pale would be the correct term you're looking for. Okay... Look, look up, 'Chinese movie stars,' and you'll get a wide array of skin tones, and facial features. Of which you will find that many of the, Genshin characters, both male, and female adopt. And, for the record, slim, pale skinned with angular jaws seem to be their standard of beauty. At least I believe that to be... seems evident.

DraGunShow: Whoa... there is a lot of skin tones here, Sushi.

SushiandShibari: Okay... I conceive the point to you... But, couldn't they still add more diverse characters to the game?

ErrantryPaladin: By 'diverse' you no doubt mean that white savior complex argument of adding black people to every, and any game. Of which they won't do, regardless of how much people whine at them to.

SushiandShibari: Why not?

ErrantryPaladin: Nor denying that one, eh? Okay, the reason why they will never add any 'diverse' characters is for one simple reason: The, Chinese are really, really, racist.

SushiandShibari: Eh?

DraGunShow: What?

SushiandShibari: They're racist, what do you mean by that?

ErrantryPaladin: I mean exactly what I said; The Chinese are really racist. Well, most people in, Asia are really racist actually. But, the, Chinese are no exception to this rule. They are racist towards, Americans, towards the, Europeans, towards the, Africans. They are particularly racist towards the, Japanese, that's a whole can of worms right there as to why. But, they are even racist to themselves!

ErrantryPaladin: So that's why I consider it a pointless argument. You're trying to force, Western ideals on a nation, that is actively fighting against them on a global scale. It doesn't matter what you do, nor say, they will not give a damn about any of it.

SushiandShibari: Oh... I see...

ErrantryPaladin: Now, I'm not saying for certain that I'm a hundred percent accurate. There are no doubt gapes in my memory, or I misinterpreted things. But, I am sure, that no matter how much anyone complains about inclusivity to the creators of, Genshin Impact, they will not give a damn. Honestly, I would advise the voice actors who are making these complaints to shut up; They are after all... replaceable.

ErrantryPaladin: Now, does that answer your question, or is there something else you'd like to ask?

DraGunShow: No.. I think that answer it... Sushi?

SushiandShibari: I... I need to do some research... Thanks Errant.

ErrantryPaladin: My pleasure! Now excuse me, I have some heathens to cleanse.

DraGunShow: ...

SushiandShibari: ...

DraGunShow: So...?

SushiandShibari: Shut up.

DraGunShow: Okay.

~~~

Sometimes people found his opinion, and thoughts to be rather controversial, and counter to most peoples beliefs, and often caused a mild controversy. But, ErrantryPaladin, stuck to his convictions, and paid them no mind.

He was asked to express his opinions and he did just so. If people got upset by them, then so be it.

Other times, people went to, ErrantryPaladin for simpler things. His opinions on games, sports and the likes. He was often asked by a fellow, Vtuber who hailed from the, Beacon VTuber Agency name, MochaFashionista for his advice on woman's fashion. Something many found to be quite odd that Vtubings fashionista would ask someone else, much less a guy for his opinions on woman's fashion.

That was until he gave his reviews, and opinions on woman's fashion with her, and everyone came to the same conclusion: 'This guy knows what he's talking about.'

When asked why, and how he knew so much about woman's fashion he simply replied: 'I have a lot of sisters.' And innocent, and simple answers that once again lead to speculation among his fans as to how many sisters did he really have, and if that was the sole reason he knew so much about woman's fashion.

But, being a fashion commentator was an occasional activity he almost exclusively did with, MochaFashionista. What he often did with other VTuber's was something he began to regret having to do. Less so with him being the only one capable of helping with other, and no one else was seemingly capable of fixing their problems themselves. And, more so how they managed to develop such problems.

What were those problems, ErrantryPaladin was so capable of helping others fix you ask? Simple really:

Tech support.

~~~

Fall4Me: Shitshithsitshitshit!

Panic coursed through, Fall4Me's voice as she looked at the bugged out screen before her. She was about to do a co-op game with several of her fellow streamers. But, her screen had begun to glitch out before she even started. She had to fix this before...

ErrantryPaladin: Hey, Ember, ready to play?

Fall4Me: Hey, Errant~! Yeah, I'm totally ready to play, just give me a moment!

ErrantryPaladin: ...

ErrantryPaladin: Haaa...

ErrantryPaladin: What is it this time?

Fall4Me: ...

Fall4Me: My screen is bugged out...

ErrantryPaladin: God dammit...

~~~

DraGunShow: Okay, I'm ready to play!

ErrantryPaladin: Are you sure, because it says you're not live?

DraGunShow: What? I'm totally online! It says so right here.

ErrantryPaladin: On which account does it say that?

DraGunShow: On my other account...

ErrantryPaladin: Other account? Wait, does that mean you bought two copies of the same game?

DraGunShow: Yes...?

ErrantryPaladin: Why are you saying that like it's a question?!

DraGunShow: I don't know?!

~~~

Another usual stream from, Fall$Me, one where she'd be joined by her precious, Wolf as they played another game together.

That's if her mic was on.

Fall4Me: ...

ErrantryPaladin: Ember?

Fall4Me: ...

ErrantryPaladin: Ember you're muted.

Errant had decided to change his stream to her to see what was up, and based upon how her model was moving, he could tell she was live, however.

He saw the panic look that filled, Fall4me's face as she struggled to turn her mic on, but based on how she seemingly developed this panic complexion.

ErrantryPaladin: Is your mike on?

She shook her head as she look at him in confusion.

ErrantryPaladin: Then turn it own.

She proceeded to do so, or at least, Errant assumed she was based upon her body movements. But, since nothing was heard from her end, and how she started to panic again, Errant could only shake his head in disappointment at her.

ErrantryPaladin: Did you at least plug your mic in?

He saw her model move to the side, and then appear stiff, no doubt a sign that she was going to check her mic. She soon came back, and and her model moved in front of the camera, her body adopting a bashful, and embarrassed posture.

ErrantryPaladin: It wasn't plugged in, was it?

Fall4Me: No...

ErrantryPaladin: How the hell did that happen?!

Fall4Me: I don't know!

~~~

The amount of times, Errant had to provide tech support to his fellow, VTubers had forced him to adopt a tech support persona, that eventually lead him to getting a new, VTuber model for people to understand what he was doing, and more importantly:

To shame those that needed his help.

~~~

Fall4Me: Errant?

ErrantryPaladin: Yes?

Fall4Me: Can help me?

ErrantryPaladin: Haaa... one moment.

ErrantryPaladin: What do you require of me, a humble servant of the, Machine-Spirit this time?

ErrantryPaladin's model became that of a, Warhammer 40000, Tech-Priest. He liked using this model because it helped him better understand, and focus on helping other, VTubers with their technical problems. And, generally make fun of those that needed his assistance. Again.

Fall4Me: Nooooo! Not, the Tech-Priest! I'm not having any problems with my computer! You don't need to put that mask on!

ErrantryPaladin: Your record prompts that this form should be the natural form taken upon this devotee of the Machine God when one addresses the, Scuff Queen.

Fall4Me: I'm not a scuff queen! This has nothing to deal with my computer!

ErrantryPaladin: Records prove otherwise. Now, what seems to be the problem; Did you forget to light the sacred incense?

Fall4Me: No! And, I'm not falling for that again!

ErrantryPaladin: Have you beseeched the, Machine-Spirit?

Fall4Me: Does calling it a hunk of junk count?

ErrantryPaladin: What! You dare insult the, Machine-Spirit in such a crewel manner! You have offended the, Machine-Spirit! Light the sacred incense at once to appease it!

Fall4Me: I'm not doing that again! It didn't work that time anyway! It has nothing to do with my computer!

ErrantryPaladin: Then what seems to be the problem that requires me?

Fall4Me: Is 0/bs a bad thing, or...?

ErrantryPaladin: ...

ErrantryPaladin: Omnissiah preserve me...

~~~

ErrantyPaladin's, VTuber career has been marked with a cloister of things. His interactions with his fellow, VTubers; The good, the bad, the weird, and the confusing. The mild controversies he had seen, and been a part of. The fights that broke out between, and withing the various agencies.

Errant had seen it all with in his own little eye of the storm upon a Venn diagram that was the, VTuber community. He occasionally ventured out to experience the thrills, and parrels of the storm, but at the end of the day, he would return to the center where he chose to stay. Called out only to join his fellow streamers for some fun.

And, copious amounts of tech support.

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #cinder fall #coco adel #vtuber au

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pavlovianfuckery · 1 month

Text

you're getting very sleep- oh wait. oh no

MASTERLIST

I have no excuses but I'm blaming this one on David Anders and his lovely speaking voice, I'm almost entirely innocent in all this, I promise

Since Blaine sits so prettily smack dab in the middle of the venn diagram of 'needs to be in control at all times'/'likes fucking with people'/'absolute clown shoes character' I think he'd find this sort of thing very funny, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Also this fic was being so naughty when I was trying to post it so if you see any mistakes or things looking off, give me a shout, if there are some in there and I've missed fixing them I swear to god, I will turn into an oyster out of pure shame

I might have blacked out, this got long, bone apple tea ig

7k of hypno and your garden variety filth under the cut, beware schrödinger's spiked drink if you care about that sort of thing

You don't have a pavlovian response to the text alert on your phone, but it's a pretty close thing at this point. And to be honest, the butterflies that start swarming in your belly at the sound of the little 'ding' aren't exactly helping, either.

Had an interesting brain in the last shipment, you up for a test drive tonight?

You frown at the screen. That sounds less like a date and more like work. Could probably still be fun, though.

Is this your way of asking me to come over?

You pause after sending, then quickly tap out another text; Interesting how?

The minutes crawl by, and then the phone chimes again.

You'll see. 10. Wear something pretty.

"'Wear something pretty', huh?" Considering that he could probably charm the hide right off a crocodile if he tried a bit more effort would be nice, but despite that you still can't quite keep a smile away. For a minute you think about responding with something petty to tease him right back with. A few quick taps later, you quickly hit send.

You too

At least there's plenty of time to get ready.

⁂

Curled up on the corner of the couch you watch from across the room as he goes to pour himself a drink. You have to admit that while his idea of an invitation might have been somewhat lacking, he clearly puts that effort into other things. The deep blue shirt brings out the colour of his eyes and between the usual tight denim, rolled up sleeves and undone top buttons, he looks positively edible. Seeing the lines of his shoulder blades move under the thin fabric makes your mouth go a bit dry, completely derailing your train of thought. It's almost hard to believe that he's all yours, even if it's just for tonight.

"You want anything?" If the twitch at the corners of his mouth is anything to go by, your ogling has not gone unnoticed.

"Whatever you're having is fine." You shrug, mostly content to enjoy the view for a bit longer. "So, are you going to explain the 'interesting' part?"

"It's meant to be a surprise." You can tell by the gleam in his eye that this will probably be good, but you're still a bit hesitant.

"After the week I've had, I'm really not up for guessing games."

"That bad?" Despite the way he's not looking at you and busying himself with getting glasses out, it's almost sweet. Until recently you doubt he'd even ask. Even if plain and simple lust is what got you into this mess, this is exactly the kind of small thing that keeps you there. Those tiny cracks in the veneer that make you want to dig your nails into them and peel, to see more of what lies underneath. Not that you're naive enough to think there's a heart of gold hiding underneath the surface, but surface clearly isn't all there is, either.

"You have no idea. Not going to bore you with the details, though." You sigh, watching him get a bottle out. It looks exactly like the kind of expensive stuff that would be perfectly wasted on your half-dead palate. "I just need to not think for a while, so try to play nice?"

"You saying I don't usually?" He's teasing you again, eyebrows raised and his face a perfect mockery of innocence.

"No," Rolling your eyes at him you can't quite keep the fondness out of your voice, "I'm having trouble even imagining it, actually."

He's shaking his head, smiling as he unscrews the cap of the bottle.

"You know," he pours an even measure in each glass, glancing at you as he does, "I might have just the thing."

"The thing for what, exactly?"

"For when you don't want to think." Putting the cap back on the bottle and putting it down, he fishes a bottle out of his pocket. It's a tiny unassuming thing of tinted glass, and you can't see what's inside of it.

"What's that?" You frown, not sure where this is going.

"Just a little something to help you relax." His tone is airy as he holds it between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a little shake. "You trust me?" That's a question that really doesn't help you think less. It's not as if there's been a lack of opportunity for him to hurt you, hell, at times you've even asked him to. But him outright asking you to trust him is different. For a moment there's a blink-and-you-miss-it tension to his shoulders, then he shrugs and starts to put it away again. "You don't have to-"

"No, I do," You wet your lips, flicking your eyes between the bottle and his face. "I trust you." And it's not even a lie. You can only hope that he won't make you regret it as you watch him empty the bottle into one of the glasses, giving it a few quick swirls to mix it all together. Because he's seemingly always finding new ways to annoy you, he adds ice to yours before sauntering over and handing it to you with a little mock bow.

"Madam." He looks so pleased with himself that for a second you hesitate before accepting the offered glass. It almost has you rolling your eyes at him, because you know that he knows how you don't like ice in your drinks, but it doesn't feel worth getting hung up on. At least it doesn't look any different and as he sits down next to you, close enough to touch, you give it a cautious sniff. Doesn't smell any different either. As you take a small sip you can feel his eyes on you, but all you can taste is the same smooth burn you'd been expecting.

"So..." You roll the glass around between your hands, in no hurry to empty it. "You still haven't told me what's supposed to be so interesting about this brain you're on."

"You're really not letting that go, are you?"

"Nope, so you might as well tell me."

"Alright, but it's not as exciting as you probably think." He takes a sip of his drink, nodding his head. "Short version? There was a bit of a mix-up."

"And the less short version?"

"Someone bought what was supposed to be street magician brain because they thought it'd make good blue brain material. Party tricks, that kind of thing." That makes sense, you suppose. "But turns out that same someone didn't bother reading the fine print."

"And...?" You're not entirely sure where he's going with this.

"You ever been hypnotized?"

Now that's a bit of a surprise, the words 'street magician' mostly bring to mind something like card tricks or perhaps pulling hankies out of orifices.

"Oh god," you can't quite suppress a giggle, "you're not going to try and make me quack like a duck or something, are you?"

"No, but..." he leans in a bit closer, lowering his voice a little bit, "what if all I had to do was snap my fingers,"he does exactly that for emphasis,"and I could make you do whatever I wanted?"

"You could always just ask." You shrug, taking another small sip of your drink. Is it just you, or is the room getting warmer? And you could have sworn that there was ice in this, but that must have been your imagination.

"Sure, but where's the fun in that?"

"You might be surprised," The thought certainly doesn't lack appeal, and even if it does feel a little silly, it could be fun. Besides, having someone else take the reins for a bit sounds exactly like what you need right now. "Alright, I'll play. So how does it work, exactly? You going make me look at a swinging pocketwatch or something like that?"

"That's a bit cliché, don't you think?" Shaking his head, he flashes you a quick grin, "No, I'm just going to tell you what's going to happen."

"And that's just going to work?"

"Oh, it will." There's not even a hint of doubt in his voice. "That little freebie I slipped into your drink? Doesn't just relax you, it makes you...suggestible." He gestures to the glass in your hand, "By the time you finish that, you won't be able to resist. Or move much."

"I guess we'll see," you quip, taking another swig from the glass. But you can already feel it, warmth slowly spreading through your limbs like syrup, and not just from the alcohol. With a body temperature that hasn't gone above room temperature in so long, you can't remember the last time you felt this hot.

"Looking a little flushed, there." He leans back and watches you squirm for a few seconds. "It's nice, isn't it? Almost like being alive. Makes you real sensitive, too." He drags the tip of a finger up the inside of your arm, and it's true. What the hell did he give you?

"Do you mind if I open a window?" You blink a few times trying to clear your head, but he's still touching you. Every brush of his skin against yours feels as if he's reaching deeper somehow, touching the nerves themselves. Every move of his fingertip on your heated skin shoots straight to your core, making it hard to think. "I need some air."

"Be my guest." You're sure that your legs weren't this wobbly just a few minutes ago and he clearly notices too, though he doesn't say anything as he takes the half-empty glass from you. Walking over to the door leading out to the balcony is much harder than it should have been, and the entire time you're overly aware of your own body. Just the feel of your clothes and the way your own thighs rub together has you biting your lip. "You good?" The reflection in the glass is a bit blurry, but the amused expression on his face is clear enough.

"Yeah, it's fine." When did you get so lightheaded? Cracking the door open an inch lets the evening air in and it does help, at least a little. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a few deep breaths. It's only a short distance back to the couch but right now you're not feeling too confident. You only make it a few steps before he stops you.

"You might feel better if you take your top off." That sounds like a good idea, actually. He's still smiling, making your stomach fill with butterflies as you pull the offending garment over your head. "Better?"

"I don't...know?" You frown. Why is it still so warm in here?

"Lose the skirt too." His hungry gaze almost feels like a physical weight on you as it glides over your breasts and stomach, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. "That'll help." Of course it will, it has to. The zipper doesn't want to cooperate but eventually you get it, and as the skirt slides off and falls to the floor, it actually does feel better. It's still a bit too warm and too much somehow, but at least it's bearable now. "Come here." He pats the empty seat next to him. As you go to take a step, your legs wobble again, making you hesitate. It would be so embarrassing if you tripped and fell.

"Are you...laughing at me?" You narrow your eyes at him.

"Not at all." Resting his chin in his hand you can't quite see but you strongly suspect that he's not being entirely truthful. Something is clearly very funny, because his eyes are crinkling at the corners. "You can crawl, if you want." It's still a bit embarrassing but at least it's better than tripping over your own feet, and being on your hands and knees for him feels correct in a way that you can't quite put a finger on. He looks so inviting sitting there, so rather than getting back up right away you crawl between his nonchalantly spread legs. As you rub your cheek against the inside of his denim-clad thigh it actually helps with the light-headedness, because right now it feels as if he's the only solid thing in the room. Then he's patting the seat next to him again. "You should sit."

"But this is nice." Everything feels so intense and as you slide a hand over his calf and up to his knee, you wonder what'd be like to touch him without anything in the way when you're feeling like this.

"You want to finish your drink, don't you?" Now that you think about it, you're actually really thirsty still, so you probably should. Clambering back onto the couch, your fingers are a bit sluggish as he hands you the glass again, but you pay it no mind. "Go on."

There's not that much left, but you only manage about half before your limbs get so heavy that you fumble and nearly drop it.

"What did you...?" You trail off, frowning again. This is his fault, isn't it? He did something.

"Told you it'd help you relax." And it's true, almost too much so. As he reaches over and pulls the nearly empty glass from your clumsy fingers, it's as if somebody has filled your limbs with warm sand. He gently taps the glass against your bottom lip. "Bottoms up, doll." You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but when he tilts the glass he does it a bit too steeply for you to keep up, making the last of the amber liquid drip down your chin and neck.

Then it doesn't seem terribly important anymore because he's chasing the spilled liquor with his mouth, tongue lapping at every stray droplet until you're shivering, weakly squeezing your legs together. Every little touch is overwhelming and as he licks and sucks at your neck, the scent of him nearly makes your mouth start to water. It's a hint of no doubt expensive cologne and whatever product he puts in his hair, all underlaid by what you suppose is just him and you probably shouldn't be associating it with words like 'comfort' or 'safe' but somehow despite yourself, you've started to do that anyway.

"Look how relaxed you are," his voice low and smooth in your ear, almost making you dizzy with want. Pulling away he gives your shoulder a little push. It makes you sway in your seat and as your head lolls back, he wraps a steadying hand around the back of your neck. "That's good. Feels good too, right?"

"Uh-huh." Words aren't usually this hard but everything feels soft and warm, like your brain has been coated in cotton. It's a bit like being underwater and while you can still move, everything seems to move at half speed. Then he's touching you again, tracing the lacy edges of your bra. Even through the thin fabric, everything is so magnified and so focused that when he scratches across one of your nipples with a blunt fingernail, it sends a little mewling sound tumbling from your mouth.

"You must be so damn sensitive," he murmurs as he does it again, "I'm barely even touching you." Every relentless back and forth of his fingers has little jolts of pleasure running through you until it feels like you could melt into the cushions and disappear. When he stops, the lack of it is almost painful. Not for long though because then he's dipping his head down, replacing his fingers with his mouth. If his just fingers felt good, the feel of his tongue and teeth as he sucks you through the saliva-dampened fabric is downright heavenly. Then he's pinching your other side, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers and for a few fleeting seconds you think that if he keeps doing that maybe you might come without even needing anything else. But you don't want to, not yet, so soon and so empty. Somehow you're certain that it would break the spell you're under, and right now everything just feels so good.

"I wanna touch you," you whine, tugging at the edge of his shirt. Clearly you haven't thought this through because that makes him stop, which is the opposite of what you want.

"You can touch, if you want to." When did buttons become this difficult? It really shouldn't be this hard but your fingers aren't quite doing what you tell them to, making you all the more frustrated. "It's okay." When did his voice get that soft, like something you could reach out and touch? It makes you ache to rub up against it even though that makes absolutely no sense. And of course, he makes the buttons look so easy it's almost upsetting. But then he's grabbing your wrist, guiding your hands and pressing them to his bare chest. "Better?"

"A little." When he's this close it feels as if you could drown in his eyes but it's still not close enough and there's some primal part of your mind that wants to crawl under his skin, let him fucking eat you. Something must be funny again, or he wouldn't be smiling at you like that. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head and it's very confusing, because you haven't done anything, have you? But then he's kissing you and it doesn't seem terribly important, anymore. With your mouth starting to turn as clumsy as the rest of you he doesn't push but takes his time, turning the kiss into something so slow and careful that it leaves you short of breath. You almost don't notice his hand moving across your back, fingers slipping under the band of the bra. But then you can feel his lips curve against yours in a grin as he gives the closure a quick little twist, and when it pops open you're almost a bit offended that he makes it look that easy. As he slides the straps down he presses a quick kiss to each shoulder, making your heart do a tiny somersault in your chest. With the bra finally discarded on the floor somewhere he hooks a finger in the elastic of your underwear, giving it a little tug. "Tell me you want me, doll."

"You know I do." For some reason those words are much easier to wrap your mouth around, so easy to get out without having to fight your own body. You're basically vibrating under his hands already, so he has to know. How can he not know?

"Tell me anyway."

"I want you," you breathe, painfully aware of how heavy your cunt feels, wetness starting to seep into your underwear. The words come in a rush you're not quite prepared for, almost falling over themselves. "Fuck, I want you more than anything."

Your hips lift almost on their own when he gives your underwear another tug and then they're slowly slipping down, down, down until he's crouched between your legs, pulling them the rest of the way off.

"You're so pretty," you sigh, gently petting his hair. How can everything about him look so damn touchable? Impossible man. You feel too warm and fuzzy to mind it when he laughs at you, content to just watch the way his mouth and throat move. It makes you want to put your fingers in his mouth. There's no real reason for it and you know that all you'd find in there are lies and teeth, but you want to anyway. Then he's laughing again, shaking his head and pulling on your hand and did you really say all of that out loud? You must have done because then he's rubbing the tips of your fingers over his lips, pressing a quick kiss to each one before slipping two of them into his mouth, holding them gently between his teeth. To him, it's clearly just another way of teasing you and it should feel much sillier than it does, but that doesn't keep your breath from speeding up. It's intimate even though you can't quite articulate why and then his tongue slides over your fingertips, mostly putting a stop to thinking altogether. Your heartbeat feels incredibly loud as you mindlessly trace the edges of his teeth, pressing down on his tongue. It feels like it's only a few short moments later that he's pulling your fingers back out, pressing one last kiss to your knuckles.

"Still with me? Looking a bit zoned out, there." For a few moments, the words bounce around inside your skull like the world's slowest game of pong and you can't quite respond.

"Yeah, I..." you blink rapidly a few times, but it doesn't really help. It feels as if your head is filled with sickly sweet fog that could start leaking out of your ears if you try too hard to think, and the words are shaky and halting as they stumble from your mouth. "You didn't have to."

"You wanted it, though." Then he's on his knees proper, hands gliding up your thighs at a snail's pace, keeping your legs apart even when you unconsciously try to squeeze them together again. He's so close to touching you where you need it, and it's as if he can see how badly you want him. Just his breath washing over you has you clenching around nothing. "Fuck, doll," he groans and then he's touching you, if you can call it that. It's barely the ghost of touch, so feather-light that it's more like torture when you know it'd be so easy for him to sink those gorgeous fingers into you, filling you up. "You need it, don't you?"

Then the tip of his tongue is slipping through your folds, dipping into you. It's too gentle, nowhere near enough and the way he's studiously avoiding your clit makes it obvious that he's doing it entirely on purpose. It makes you clumsily grab at the back of his neck in that way you know annoys him because at this point, you'll even take his teeth over more of this teasing. All it gets you is another huff of laughter, bright eyes boring into yours until you're pinned down like a bug on a board. When he finally brushes against your clit it's still just with the very tip of his tongue, too slow and too soft to do anything except frustrate you. Every muscle in your body is slowly turning to jelly and when you try to push him away, nothing is moving how it should.

"Please." It's small and strangled and almost blurring at the edges, only barely squeezing out past the whimper growing at the base of your throat. "It hurts." And it does, you're so empty and needy that you're swollen with it, it aches and every flick of his tongue is making it worse, not better. "Need you," the words keep sticking like velcro to your tongue, and it takes more effort than it should to get them out.

"What do you want, hm?" He rubs at you, watching your reaction as he idly spreads your wetness mixed with his saliva around. "You can have my fingers." Resting the tip of a finger at your entrance he just barely dips inside. It makes you twitch and shudder, your body trying to pull at him all on its own, but the feeling passes quickly, leaving a gaping kind of hunger in its place. "Can have my whole hand, if that's what you want." As you struggle for words he bites down on the inside of your thigh, a slow steady press of teeth intended to leave a bruise. That hurts too, but it gives you something else to focus on, makes it easier.

"Just need you," you grit out, breath coming in quick little gasps, "inside, please, please..."

"Yeah?" He presses a sloppy open-mouthed kiss to the bite, laving his tongue over the little divots left by his teeth, so close to breaking the skin. "You want my cock?"

"God, yes." Your nails scrabble weakly against the expensive leather of the couch. Some gibbering and altogether vicious part of your mind insists that him just fucking you isn't enough, he needs to get his cock out and hurt you with it, to leave you with marks so lasting and so deep that the only thing you'll ever be is his. It's thoroughly ugly in all its possessiveness, but you can't bring yourself to care. "Please."

For a second he looks at you with something that's almost like pity.

"You can't move, can you?" His tone is soft and sweet like molasses as he wraps a hand around your wrist, stroking it with his thumb. Before you can even try to answer he lifts it a few inches, then lets go, and you can't do anything except watch as your arm limply falls back down. "Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, eyes going half-lidded and dark," Oh, that's perfect, fuck."

Having to watch him undress without being able to touch him is its own kind of torture. Every movement from the way he shrugs off the undone shirt to how he peels the tight denim down is deliberate and just a hint too slow, making you wait for it. He's close enough that all you'd have to do is reach for him but your limbs just feel so heavy, as if any minute you're going to sink down all the way through the floor. He's half-hard already, tenting the fabric of his boxers and as he pulls them off too you can't quite hold back a frustrated little noise.

Then your mouth really does start to water because the way he touches himself is deliberate too, slow and teasing and just out of your reach. The temptation to get on your knees and wrap your lips around him is so strong that you're almost feverish with it, but even if you could move, how could you trust your own mouth right now? Every slide of his fingers draws the tension inside of you tighter until it drags the breath from your lungs in a desperate little whine.

It's not even words anymore, just noise. You can't even ask for what you want. Then he's stepping closer still, until he's just inches away, the tip of his cock flushed and wet and all but begging you to wrap your mouth around it. If you could just move-

"Shh, I know," he soothes, stroking your hair, "you don't need to talk, it's alright..." Despite the breathy edge to his voice the words are still so soft, and you can't quite understand why. Every little movement and slick sound has heat curling low in your belly and as he swipes his thumb over his slit and gathers the beading precome on his finger, you think you might actually cry. He's close enough that you can smell him and now he's just being mean, why can't he just-

Then his finger is pressing against your mouth, rubbing it over your lips until they glisten with it and now you know he's definitely just being mean on purpose because that has to be payback for something you've done. "You're so fucking pretty like this, come here." He grits out, cupping your jaw in his hand. "Open." His grip is gentle as he coaxes your slack mouth to open properly, not letting go and taking himself in hand until he's satisfied that it's wide enough. Hand cradling the back of your head, he doesn't fuck your mouth the way you expect him to. Instead he just barely slips between your lips and rubs his tip against your tongue with a low moan, not seeming to care that you can't really do anything. For a minute it's so close to being what you want, but it's not quite what you need. You'd thought that tasting him would make you feel better, but instead all it does is make the ache between your legs all the more urgent. It's not just the inside of your thighs that are getting slick with it, the luxurious leather under your ass is also starting to turn slippery, and if he doesn't take pity on you soon, sliding right off the couch could be a very real possibility. While getting fucked on the floor is starting to sound more tempting by the minute, you know that it'd probably be a lot less fun in practice. You wish that you could at least swallow properly because he's leaking into your mouth, twitching and messy and entirely too lovely. The little groans spilling from his lips have no business sounding as good as they do and you selfishly hope that he doesn't come like this and leaves you hanging.

When he finally pulls away the rise and fall of his chest is a shuddering, uneven thing and he looks almost as tense and desperate as you feel. As he wipes your chin and as he cups your cheek, thumb tracing your cheekbone, you can't recall ever wanting him more."Just blink if you still want it, doll."

So you do, as slowly and as purposefully as you can, despite the thick fog swirling around in your mind, making it hard to think. It seems to get the message across because his face is a mixture of relief and desire, hot and sharp and focused entirely on you as he captures your mouth with his.

"Good," he sighs against your lips, "that's good." When he pushes you down you go so easy, as boneless as a puppet with its strings cut. It's a tight fit and not entirely comfortable when he tries to slot himself between your legs and in hindsight, the couch really isn't the best spot for it. He seems to agree, knocking a few of the cushions to the floor with an impatient little 'tsk' sound and giving your legs more room to spread. "There," he grunts, pressing close and covering your body with his, "that's better."

With his weight holding you down it does feel better and as he rubs his length over your aching center, even better still. Every slow roll of his hips has your traitorous heart pounding just a bit harder in your chest because he could have just turned you over and used you but instead he's taking his time, all but melting against you in a way that's bordering on tender. You're still not naive enough to fool yourself into thinking that this is something as stupid as love, but with the way he's looking at you, it makes it hard to believe that this arrangement between you is as clear-cut as it had been when it started. Then he's bowing his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing laboured as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin.

"You just keep that pretty little head of yours," his voice is shaky and fraying at the edges, "nice and empty for me." With the way he's caging you in with his arms, he's already the only thing you can think about right now but it's not like you'd tell him that, even if you could. Then he's reaching down, feeling you out and angling his hips just so, making thinking superfluous at best as he presses against your opening. He's not even inside of you yet but he's already trembling. "Fuck," he gasps, brows knitting into a small concentrated frown. "oh, you're so fucking ready for me, aren't you?"

For once he's not hiding and you can't look away, and as he finally slides into you, all you can do is breathe and let him. There are no masks, no walls, only the way his mouth goes slack and pupils dilate, breath coming out in stuttering little bursts. He takes his time with this too, easing into you so carefully, as if he's worried that you might break, despite knowing better than that. Having him buried inside like this, throbbing and lovely and pushing into the deepest parts of you, it's perhaps the most right you've felt all night. And that's when you realize that even though it's only a little, you can move.

"Oh fuck, sweetheart, you don't have to..." The words are staggered and a bit unsteady as he trails off, frown deepening and eyelids fluttering as you squeeze around him again and again. Once you start, you're not sure how to stop. Not when it's dragging the prettiest, almost obscene noises from his mouth as he rocks against you. It feels as if he's barely moving an inch, only just pulling back before thrusting back in, nudging and massaging at that sweet spot deep inside. If you could only touch yourself you'd be hurtling towards that precipice so soon, but you can't. Even if your arm wasn't hanging uselessly off the edge of the couch, there's no room. Instead, he's pressed in so close that every move has you rubbing against him. Compared to his fingers or his mouth it's too broad, too imprecise, but it doesn't matter because it's still enough. You can feel your climax slowly starting to build, a roiling, twisting, hungry thing that's already making your thighs start to quiver. There's no hurrying it along, there's only frantic little breaths and waiting for him to bring you there, a low keening sound trapped in your throat. That, and watching as he slowly falls apart. Because he does, control steadily eroding until he's tense and still and spewing profanities into your ear.

"You gotta fucking," his voice is rough and strained, chest heaving as he twitches inside of you," oh, you gotta stop that." You almost don't want to. He's beautiful like this, so tightly wound and on the verge of losing himself in you completely. With your own release looming just out of reach it's almost impossible to stop, but you do. It's like a tide retreating and if you could move, you'd be clinging to him right now, begging for it, but all you can do is breathe. "I'll take care of you, just let me," and then he's kissing you again, quick and sloppy and gorgeous, the words tickling your lips, "I will, just be still for me, just let me..." And then he's moving again, pushing himself deeper and fully bottoming out, forcing your legs apart until one of them limply slides off the couch, the plush rug tickling your foot as it dangles over the edge. It's not the most comfortable position to be in but he's not letting you fall and with the slight change in angle, there's more room now. He wastes no time taking advantage of it. It's still a tight fit as he slides a hand between your bodies, pressing down and rubbing exactly where you need him to the most. The pace is no longer something deep and slow, and you can tell he's trying to hold back, but you're not sure how long it's going to last. You know it won't be long for you though, between the way he fills you up so perfectly and rubbing slick little swipes in a merciless back-and-forth over your clit, your walls are already starting to flutter.

"Hold on for me, doll, I'm almost there, just a bit more..."The desperate edge to the words drags you even closer to your peak and his fingers are so insistent and so good that you can't, you can't. He looks almost pained as he chases it, driving into you at a pace that's nowhere near gentle or controlled anymore. "I want to be right fucking there with you," and that nearly does it, the way he chokes those words out, voice so breathless and lovely. You try to hold on, you do, but he's making it impossible. Then he's making a strangled noise and you're no longer going, you're gone, spasming around his cock until you're nearly pushing him out with the force of it. In the midst of the searing pleasure you're almost sorry but then he's making an absolutely filthy sound and you can feel it when he tips over the edge only seconds behind you, swelling and pulsing as he pushes himself against your grasping walls. After dragging it out for so long it's not quick, every drop of pleasure wrung from you until you're gasping and dizzy. Even as he's starting to come down, you're still convulsing around him until he's oversensitive and shuddering. But rather than pull away he leans into it. There's something almost cute about how the aftershocks of your release make him twitch and gasp and despite looking at least as spent as you feel, he still rolls his hips a few more times and rubs his softening cock against your weakly fluttering walls, making himself shiver with it.

When you finally go still he lets out a breathless little laugh.

"You done?" He smiles, resting his forehead against yours. You frown and blink slowly up at him because he doesn't do that, not really. The gesture is too intimate, too familiar, but there it is anyway. It makes you want to wrap your arms around him and for some reason, you can. It's jerky and clumsy but at least it's movement, so you'll take it. The smooth expanse of his back is almost warm as you run your hands over it, waiting for him to push you away.

"I..." your mouth feels as if it's coated in rust, dry and miserable, but at least it's working, sort of. Clearing your throat, you try again."Think so. Definitely." You're vaguely aware that there are tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. As you blink they fall and then your shoulders start tensing almost on their own.

"Hey," his voice is so hellishly soft again and he's pulling away, sitting back from you. It hurts, causing a few more tears to stubbornly fall. It's embarrassing and he shouldn't have to see that so you turn away, curling up on your side.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. There's barely space for it but he squeezes in between you and the backrest of the couch anyway, plastering himself to your back. It's not exactly comfortable and you're not sure why he's doing it at all. As a small sob rattles your ribcage he wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm not sad, not really, it's fine." It's probably not very convincing and you wipe at your eyes with a little hiccup. "Fuck."

"You sure?" He rests his chin on your shoulder, tightening his grip just a fraction. That's not something you're used to either from him, but if he's offering you're not going to push him away.

"Just, that was...a lot." You shake your head, a wobbly little giggle bubbling in your throat. "What the fuck did you put in my drink?"

"Just water." He sounds so utterly pleased with himself when he says it, too. "Got you good, didn't I?"

"What...?" That doesn't sound right at all and you frown. "If you're lying to me right now-"

"You don't remember anything, do you?" His voice is almost giddy in your ear and before you can question what exactly you're supposed to remember, he snaps his fingers again, making you jump. It's hazy, coming back in fits and starts, and then-

⁂

"Deep breaths, just relax for me." All you can see is his eyes, drawing you in. "Just listen, you're going to..." And you want to listen, it feels so good to listen, letting his voice wash over and through you until everything else falls away, until all that exists is himhimhim-

"You're doing so well, doll." Every word slips and skids across your brain like honey in a hot skillet until it feels like they're coating the inside of your mouth, sweet and sticky.

"In a moment you're going to wake up..." And you still can't look away, his voice is so soft, wrapping around you and filling you up until your head is swimming with it. "You're not going to remember this until later, okay? Nod for me if you understand."

You're swaying in your seat, neck like rubber and you nod, you want so badly to do as he says, anything, just as long as he keeps talking-

⁂

"What the hell did you do?" Despite yourself, you tense up, heart tapping an uneven rhythm against your ribs.

"Nothing you didn't enjoy." He sounds almost unbearably flippant. One of these days, you're going to have and try to take him down a peg or two. "Mostly wanted to see if it'd even work."

"You better tell me, or I swear-" You don't really think he's done anything horrible, but you are curious enough that resorting to violence isn't entirely out of the question.

"Alright, keep your panties on. Or don't," he gives your shoulder a little nibble and you can feel him grin. "The general idea was that the more turned on you got, the less you'd be able to think or move." He shrugs, tightening his grip. "Also the drink thing, but that was just for fun."

"And there was nothing else?"

"Scouts honor." There's a pause, and then, "Would you have preferred it if I'd made you cluck like a chicken?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a bit of an asshole?" It comes out a bit sharper than intended, but it just runs off of him like water on a particularly smug duck.

"Oh yeah," he murmurs against the back of your neck, "there's this awfully pushy woman that keeps constantly reminding me."

"You really think I'm pushy?" You can't even bring yourself to be annoyed, not really. The fondness fizzing in your chest doesn't quite let you, not right now. "So this might be a silly question, but..." You bite your lip, running your fingers over his forearm," could we keep this one? It was a little interesting..."

#izombie #blaine debeers #my shitty shitty writing (affectionate)#x reader #should i tag everything i write as an affront to this mans entire career? possibly #my fic tag

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