It might be a little random but I realized that most female characters in Metal Fight Beyblade have beys related to water in some form:
Hikaru and Mei-Mei both have an Aquario beyblade which control water.
Madoka briefly owns a Mad Northern Cross which has the Gasher energy ring. As you may know, Gahser represents the cancer constallation, which is a crab, and most crabs live in water.
The same goes for Selen and Motti who own Gasher beys.
Finally there is Sophie whose Cetus is a whale and she is the one in her duo with Wales that can generate water for their joint special move.
The exceptions are Lyra, which owns a Scorpio bey; Sala and Ren; the latter two having Phoenix beys.
To add a few more differences between my two Sonas, i gave one of them a new name!! (with help from a few lovely folks in Hidden Hearts server! You know who you are and i appreciate y’all!)
Mei-Mei!
I gave her more of a cow-like snoot and made her a lot more fluffy! Her wings are a little smaller now too! She also leans a little more on the ler side :3
Tags: Orgasm Control, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Lingerie, Service, Fingering, Co-workers, Business Man, Sex Work ( or maybe a little something else *wink*)
Notes: I literally spun a wheel for this pairing. It was a lot of fun, much more than I expected it to be honest! Hope you enjoy it! Happy Kinktober!
The door clicked shut behind Ijichi with a soft finality, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet of his modest apartment. The hum of the city outside was muffled by layers of concrete and insulation, replaced by the hush of solitude. He stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle around him like dust. Then with a practiced motion, he bent to unlace his shoes — black leather scuffed at the toes — and stepped out of them. The familiar give of the soft house slippers welcomed his tired feet. He let out a small relieved sigh.
His suit jacket came off next, the seams creaking faintly as he slipped his arms free. He smoothed the shoulders with the edge of his hand before hanging it on the wall-mounted rack beside the door. The tie followed, tugged loose with a weary yank and draped beside the jacket like a wilted ribbon.
The shirt took more care. He undid each button slowly, methodically, as if winding himself down one fastener at a time. He pulled it from his slacks and folded it neatly, creased sleeves tucked in like origami, before setting it aside on a small side table. The cool air of the room kissed the thin cotton of his undershirt. He didn’t shiver, but his shoulders dropped slightly, unburdened finally after another long day.
In the kitchen, he turned on the tap and let the water run over his hands. The soap smelled faintly of citrus, and the warmth seeped into his fingers, chasing away the memory of the day. He scrubbed longer than necessary, staring out the window above the sink. There was nothing but the dark outline of another building across the alley.
He dried his hands on a dish towel, then padded over to the microwave, lifting the corner of a plastic-wrapped plate from the fridge. Leftover rice, a few slices of pork, pickled radish. He arranged them like a ritual offering before pressing the buttons with robotic precision. The microwave hummed to life. It was the only sound.
When it beeped, he didn’t jump, but he did blink. Plate in hand, he moved to the living room and settled on the couch. The cushions let out a soft exhale as he sank into them. The food sat untouched in his lap.
He cleared his throat once, too loud in the quiet, and glanced up at the clock on the wall. The minute hand ticked forward with maddening grace. He drummed his fingers on his knee, a restless rhythm with no melody. His eyes were focused on the clock, but his thoughts had wandered far from time.
The apartment was still. Clean, quiet, calm. But beneath it all, something coiled tight in his chest, waiting.
The single tap at the door echoed through the apartment — a courtesy knock, not a request.
Ijichi didn’t move. His spine straightened instinctively, but he remained seated. Not because of laziness. Not because of fear. But because he already knew the rules.
The food, still steaming gently, was lifted from his lap and placed with care on the low table in front of him. He adjusted the placement of the chopsticks, more out of habit than necessity. Then he leaned back again, hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes fixed on a spot just to the left of the hallway.
The door creaked open a moment later, slow and smooth, as if pushed by the wind—but the kind of wind that wore perfume and heels.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of tall stiletto heels echoed on the polished floorboards, each step deliberate, sharp, and somehow... amused. Ijichi felt the vibrations through the couch cushion before he saw her. He didn’t turn to look. He didn’t need to. The energy changed the moment she crossed the threshold, like someone had opened a window in the middle of winter and let in something far too confident for comfort.
“You really should lock your door, you know,” came a voice like silk.
Mei Mei stepped fully into the room, letting the shadows and silence wrap around her like a welcome party. Her dress was black, tight enough to suggest sin was on the itinerary, and cut high enough at the thigh to confirm sin had already RSVP’d. Her light blue hair fell loose in tousled waves around her shoulders, the kind of effortless mess that took either witchcraft or an hour of calculated styling.
Ijichi stiffened. Not out of surprise. Just... as a reflex.
Mei’s laugh came quick and low, like a purr. It danced through the air, curling around the edges of the room like smoke. “Oh, Ijichi-kun…” she cooed, shaking her head with mock regret. “No, thank you. I like to be sober while I work.”
She smiled down at him. "Good evening, Assistant Supervisor Ijichi," she purred.
Ijichi met her eyes, just for a second — long enough to acknowledge her, not long enough to challenge. “Good evening, Mei-san," he answered politely.
That was all he was allowed to say, for now.
The tension in the room was coiled like a wire, thin and silver, strung taut between his courtesy and her curiosity. Mei strolled a little closer, the scent of her perfume, sweet, but with a sharp floral bite, drifting in his direction. She glanced down at the untouched plate of food and made a small noise in her throat. “Oh, dear. I didn’t interrupt dinner, did I?”
Ijichi opened his mouth, but the correct words caught in his throat. He swallowed them and tried again. “It’s fine,” he said quietly, hands still folded, “I wasn’t very hungry anyway.”
Her smile remained pleased. That was the right answer.
She turned slowly, surveying the apartment like a queen inspecting the spare wing of a lesser noble’s estate. Her eyes lingered on the jacket by the door, the folded shirt, the still-warm slippers by the mat. Then she circled behind the couch. Ijichi didn’t move a muscle, but he did blink, once, slowly, his breath shallow and restrained.
"Such a tidy life you live," Mei said behind him, fingers brushing the back of the couch like a lazy cat tracing her territory. "Always so... meticulous."
He didn't respond. She didn’t expect him to. After a long pause, she leaned in close — close enough for her breath to warm the shell of his ear — and whispered, “Let’s mess it up a little, shall we?”
The ticking of the clock was the only sound left in the room before Ijichi cleared his throat softly, more out of habit than necessity, and reached for the small cabinet beside the couch. “Would you… like a drink, Mei-san?” he asked, the words careful, polished. His voice didn’t waver, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
He nodded once as if she'd just declined tea at a faculty meeting. Still, he sat up straighter.
Mei took a step back, surveying him like she was deciding whether he matched the furniture or perhaps how easily he’d break if she sat on him. She tilted her head slightly. “Would you like a reminder of the rules?”
Ijichi hesitated just long enough to suggest he didn’t want to look too eager, but the nod that followed was unmistakable. “Yes, Mei-san.”
Mei’s smile widened. “Good boy,” she murmured. “Rule one: No touching unless told to.” Her tone was still sweet, but it had that steel-edged firmness underneath — the kind that brokered no misunderstandings. “Rule two: No coming…” She let the words hang in the air, letting them settle in like fog. “…until I say you can. Understand?”
Ijichi nodded again, his posture now stiff as a board, eyes trained forward like a soldier on parade. “Understood.”
Mei turned around, casting a glance over her shoulder like a cat flicking its tail right into your line of sight. The smile she gave him was playful and dangerous all at once. One heel slipped off with a delicate click. Then the other. Each motion unhurried and very intentional.
Ijichi tensed, as if the sound of shoes hitting the floor had fired some invisible starting pistol. He didn’t move — he wouldn’t dare — but something about his stillness became more pronounced.
Mei’s bare feet made no sound as she stepped forward into the room’s soft light. The air felt heavier, charged, like static waiting for a spark.
“Relax,” she said over her shoulder, her tone almost a tease, but the kind of tease that leaves delightful bruises.
Ijichi swallowed hard.
Mei lingered near the center of the room with her back to Ijichi, the silence deepening around her like the pause before a performance. She reached up slowly, gathering her long, pale blue hair into a loose twist, exposing the smooth line of her neck and shoulders. Then, deliberately, she let it fall again — cascading in a tousled wave down her back.
The zipper of her dress gave a soft zzzzzip, the only sound in the apartment other than the faint ticking of the clock and Ijichi’s increasingly shallow breathing. The dress slinked down her body like it had been waiting for the moment all night. First the shoulders, then the elegant dip of her back, and finally the fabric pooled at her feet in a quiet sigh.
She stepped out of it, barefoot, poised, wearing nothing now but lace. The lingerie was dark, delicate, and cut with ruthless precision. Mei reached up again, this time teasing her hair with her fingers, lifting it just enough to stretch her body, to show the curve of her waist, the toned line of her thighs, the slight rise and fall of breath.
Ijichi watched, his face still composed in that carefully neutral way he’d perfected over the years, but the tension in his jaw, the stiffness in his posture, and the visible strain in his throat as he swallowed betrayed him. His hand twitched toward his lap — instinct before thought.
Mei didn’t even have to turn around. Her voice came, smooth and chiding. “Ah ah.” A soft click of the tongue followed. “What did I just say?”
Ijichi froze like he’d been hit with a binding spell. He looked straight ahead, hands back in his lap, fingers clenched tight.
“Good,” Mei said without looking. She turned to face him, finally, eyes alight with amusement. “You're so obedient, Ijichi-kun. It’s honestly kind of sweet.”
Ijichi didn’t respond. The room felt hotter than it had five minutes ago.
Each step was deliberate, her bare feet silent on the floor, the low light casting shadows that danced along the lines of her body. She stood before him now, framed by the muted warmth of his living room, her lace-clad form a sharp contrast to the soft, domestic stillness around them.
Ijichi sat motionless on the couch, shoulders tight, eyes up, but never too far up. Not without permission.
Mei tilted her head, studying him with mock affection. “Still with me, Ijichi-kun?” she asked, her voice as smooth as honey poured over a blade.
He nodded.
“Good. You’re doing so well,” she whispered. “Following the rules. Just sitting there like a good little assistant.”
Ijichi’s throat bobbed, but he remained silent.
Mei leaned forward, placing a single manicured finger under his chin, tilting his face ever so slightly toward hers. “But I wonder…” she said, eyes narrowing. “How long can you really behave?”
With that, Mei placed one knee on the edge of the couch and the other joined a moment later. She hovered over him, taking a moment to adjust her hair — fluffing and placing, you know. Her breasts were right at his eye level, nipples barely concealed behind the tint of lace.
She leaned forward and Ijichi stiffened. He held his breath as she exhaled slowly up his neck, her lips a fraction away from touching. His eyes snapped shut as she drew back, the blush on his face burning. She giggled softly, placing just the tips of her fingers on the collar of his white shirt. Right on the front and pressing it down into his collarbone.
"Go ahead," she breathed, the heat fanning across his jaw.
He nodded, barely, and fumbled for the waist of his slacks. Mei's gaze held on his as he trembled past the button and reached for his growing erection. He swallowed, tucking his briefs down enough to give himself a little room. His fingers circled at the base of his shaft, giving it a slow push up once and then holding back at the bottom.
The corner of Mei's lip quirked up and she placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned back. He shuddered, staring as her hand slipped back to unhook her bra effortlessly.
Ijichi swallowed the whine back down, giving his cock a few more strokes. He was quickly getting more worked up than he meant to. But Ijichi was a man who could pride himself on his professionalism and he would maintain that.
"Oh-hoh," Mei chuckled, "You do work so very hard, don't you Ijichi-kun?" She lifted his chin with her hand, forcing his eyes onto her bared breasts. His breath hitched and she chuckled again.
The hand on his cock had slowed, but hadn't stopped. He knew where to keep himself. He could probably keep himself there for hours if he was told to. He was immovable when he needed to be.
Mei leaned forward to nip at the shell of his ear. Her breast pressed into his face and he groaned, his other hand gripping the leg of his slacks. The heel of his left foot had left the ground, the ball of his foot pressing hard into the wooden floor.
She let her lips drag down his ear, sighing in a way that made a jolt shoot through his body. He paused his stroke to roll the palm of his hand on his cock head. The precum glided on his skin making his eyes flutter and his teeth clench with a small hiss.
Mei leaned back, lifting his chin. Her eyes were held to his for only a moment before she leaned in and let her lips dust against his.
He gasped, shutting his eyes quickly. She leaned to the other side, teasing his other ear. He shuddered, his hand stroking once again. He could feel the warmth gathering, but he'd stuff it back down if he needed to.
"Edge yourself," she whispered, "don't come until I say so."
Ijichi nodded, swallowing and forcing his eyes open. He watched her as she drew back, leaving one hand on his shoulder and gliding the other hand down her front, between her breasts and rested at the waist of her sheer black panties. Her fingertips glided down the front before pulling the fabric aside.
"Mei… -san," Ijichi breathed, correcting himself quickly and holding back his grunt. He watched her fingers sliding and toying with her lips, holding in the rest of his undignified words.
"Yes, Ijichi-kun?" She hummed, making him jump. She chuckled, spreading her labia to give him a better look and eyeing the quickening pace of the hand stroking his dick.
He didn't answer, his breath coming in shudders.
"Mm? Not going to say anything?" She purred, gliding two fingers down over her clit before passing by to soak them in her gathering slick. She chuckled again, spreading the sticky fluid and letting it web just a little on her fingertips before lifting it up drag it down his lips to the tip of his chin.
His eyes nearly rolled back. He gasped, stroking faster and faster. Her fingers dipped in and she made a soft little sound of relief. Ijichi did too, although he hadn't meant to.
Mei smirked. "Don't you dare come yet," she whispered, her fingers curling in a little further. Her hips wiggled just a little, which could have been on purpose. Maybe not? Either way it make his hips jolt.
Ijichi groaned, tipping his head back with his eyes sliding shut. Mei took that opportunity to lean in, nipping at his ear. His breath fanned over her breast, her nipple hardening and pressing against his cheek.
Ijichi nodded, releasing his cock. Steadily he inhaled and exhaled, calming himself back down. Mei's lips brushed over his again, — just barely, just enough to tease — and she let out a low, drawn-out moan that made his entire body jolt beneath her.
“Ah!” His voice cracked, his head tipping back into the cushioned couch backrest. He gasped through gritted teeth, hips twitching up despite himself, and she smiled down at him like a cat. She was working herself faster and faster before pulling out her fingers and slowly reaching towards him.
“You’re holding back so well,” she purred, fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “So polite, aren't you? …but you’re going to break.”
Ijichi swallowed. “Do you want me to fail, Mei-san?” he asked, eyes glassy, jaw tight as his body trembled with restraint.
She kissed the corner of his lips, then pulled back, just out of reach. “Maybe,” she whispered, pushing her fingers back inside with a little gasp and ripping another helpless groan from him.
Her smile widened, sweet and merciless. “Almost there,” she said softly, knowing it only made him quake harder beneath her.
Ijichi's breath stuttered, his whole body shaking as he forced himself to stay on that edge and obey. His teeth caught his lower lip, a ragged sound tearing from him.
Mei leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as she moved slow enough to make him choke on a moan.
It was maddening. Before much longer Ijichi was drenched in sweat, dark hair sticking to his forehead, every breath coming in ragged gasps. He’d been pulled back from the edge again and again, each time leaving him shakier, his body tighter, his breaths rougher with the strain.
That was it. His restraint cracked. His free hand shot up, trembling, gripping her waist like he’d fall apart without her. His voice broke as he gasped, pleading, “Mei— please, I— please—”
Her smile was wicked, triumphant, and sweet all at once. She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. “Now,” she breathed, and gave it to him.
It hit him like a lightning strike — white-hot and unstoppable. He cried out, body arching up into hers as all that pent-up need ripped free. The sound of her moan followed right after, the two of them shuddering together, clinging to each other as everything snapped loose in perfect sync.
“Thank you… Mei-san…” he managed between gasps, laughing breathlessly.
When it was over, he collapsed back into the couch, arm still wrapped around her as if he could keep her close to him somehow. His chest heaved, his smile sloppy and wrecked, eyes glassy with aftershocks behind his glasses.
"Mei-san, please don't leave without—"
Mei stood with her back to him, slipping her arms back into her bra. She fastened it with a practiced little twist, pretending she wasn’t swaying her hips ever so slightly as she did it. The straps slid over her pale shoulders, framing the soft lines of her body.
She glanced at him for only a moment, her eyes just barely turned with a smile. They flicked away as she was adjusting the cups with both hands — pushing them together just enough that he nearly choked on his breaths that were just starting to catch back up.
"Good night," she whispered, and with that, she strut her way back out like she always did.
Mei shook her head, lips twitching at the corner as she tugged her sleek dress up over her hips. “I’ll see you Monday, Assistant Supervisor Ijichi.”
He watched the dress slide over her thighs, hugging her curves as she smoothed it down. "But Mei-san, I—"
She stepped into her heels, taking a few clicking steps forward before she leaned in close and planted a soft kiss on his lips. She leaned back and tilted her head with that same unreadable smile.
Ijichi finally took a full breath, sighing as he let himself relax finally. He looked up guilty at the envelopes gathering on the end table. They were neatly stacked. All four of them the same size — the contents the same as always.
"Why doesn't she take the money any more?" He asked softly in the darkness.
do any of your headmates contain only one emotion or do you all feel everything
hi hiii! mei-mei here
some of us do hold more of one emotion than others like our god crimson holds a lot of anger and tends to lash out.they are working very very hard to stop reacting with anger first
then there's meee and berry hold a lot of positive emotions unlike berry I don't feel or have access to the darker emotions I'm forever stuck a ray of sunshine.
and our little rain cloud hold a lot of sad emotions and needs a hug like 24/7
