#And it remains a thought. Just a thing to ponder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starsforxavi · 3 months ago

Text

half a heart

·······•✦ description: In which; you asked zayne to accompany you to a work party, but after he got tipsy and letting you lead him back to your apartment, some feelings came bubbling up to the surface.

·······•✦ pairing: virgin!zayne x afab!reader ·······•✦ word count: 10.7k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff ·······•✦ general tags: Loss of Virginity, Virginity, Cowgirl Position, Drunken Confessions, Slight spoilers for Zayne's lore, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Condoms, safe sex, Nipple Play, Teasing, Jealousy, Marking, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Grinding, Fluffy Ending, Aftercare, Naked Cuddling, First Time, Virgin!Zayne, Reader-Insert, Awkward First Times

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

Footsteps echoed on the pavement as two pairs of feet walked to the office. A light breeze brushed past, goosebumps rising on both pairs of arms. A shiver couldn’t help but cause you to shake, which didn’t get past the calm man walking beside you. His eyes shifted, noticing the goosebumps, and he silently took off his coat.

“Here,” Zayne murmured, draping the coat around your shoulders. Although he felt his own skin pebbling with the bumps, he ignored it. The cold never really bothered him, and all he wanted to do was warm you up. His hand brushed your shoulder as his arm fell to his side. The dress shoes he picked out specifically for the event clicked on the pavement, his tailored slacks covering his ankles from the chilly breeze of the evening air.

Though he didn’t let it show, his heart rate spiked when you invited him to the annual Hunter’s office party. He wondered if you had been asked by anyone else or if you specifically sought him out. There were many options for you to pick to ask to accompany you, yet you chose him …

You said it was just so you weren’t one of the few without a date, but your brain said otherwise. It was partly for that reason, but you couldn’t deny the small smile on your lips when he agreed. Even a small part of you hoped no one else asked him, or if they did, he didn’t accept their offer… Maybe he waited for you to ask him…

“Thank you.” You grinned, curling the coat around yourself. It was warm and smelled just like his cologne. The lights of the office came into view, and you noticed the way Zayne’s hand brushed against your own. As you looked up at him, you noticed a slight blush on his cheeks from the cold air. “I’m glad you agreed to come with me. I don’t know what I would do if I showed up and I was the only one without a date.”

A soft breath left Zayne’s nose, a hint of a smile appearing as he met your eyes. Thoughts drifted in his head, and there was one thing he couldn’t stop pondering over…

“Did you think about asking anyone else?” Curiosity laced into his tone, gaze flicking to you for just a second to gauge your reaction. Your pace didn’t change, shaking your head when you thought back to it. There was no hesitation; you were only thinking about asking Zayne.

“No.” The answer was simple, but you wanted to elaborate. “If you had declined the offer, I probably would have gone alone.”

His steps slowed, eyebrows twitching. The muscles in his back tensed as he heard your words, but he immediately straightened up and cleared his throat. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed, looking away from you towards the street. Once he maintained his composure, he looked over at you.

“You probably had men ready to accept your offer… But you would have gone alone if I said no?” He couldn’t help it; he knew people had their eyes on you, and he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t bother him.

“Well—” As you tried to speak, you heard yells from the office doors, some of your friends yelling and cheering. The sound of their cheers turned Zayne’s ears pink, his gaze looking down, but his face remained stoic.

“Look who finally showed up!” Tara yelled, pulling you into a hug. You exchanged a short look, knowing she had talked to you about asking Zayne to go to the party. Her eyebrows wiggled, and you shook your head, her loud laughter echoing in the parking lot.

“Sorry, sorry. I was taking so long deciding what to wear.” You laughed, walking a step back to be beside Zayne once more. The smell of your perfume surrounded him, and he relaxed a bit, shaking hands with your coworkers. They all knew Zayne. Of course, they did… He did drop by sometimes to give you lunch or a ride home from work if he was off. A few had even asked if he was your boyfriend, to which you denied it, your heart speeding up at the thought.

Tara led you inside, the music pumping through the air. In the cafeteria, tables were pushed to the edges of the room, leaving the middle empty for dancing. The atmosphere was light, yet you noticed some people getting calls on their phones, missions not stopping even in the midst of a party.

“You have to try this drink!” Yvonne screamed over the music, handing you a blue liquid in a cup. With a whiff, you winced, already smelling the pungent odor of alcohol.

You took a small sip, eyes locking with Zayne’s over the edge of the cup. A warning gaze met yours when you swallowed, your nose scrunching and your head shaking. With a disgusted expression, you heard Zayne chuckle. He watched you carefully take another drink, needing a buzz to give you a boost of confidence.

“Careful.” He said in a soft voice, stepping closer to you so he could talk over the music. “I’ll carry you home if I need to, but I really don’t want that to happen.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” You assured him. It was all Zayne wanted to hear that you’ll be okay. Holding out the cup to him, you smiled sweetly, trying to tempt him. “You should try this, though. Once you get past the taste of the alcohol, it isn’t that bad.”

There it was. The look . He couldn’t resist you with that look. You knew that, and he knew that. So he reached out, his fingers brushing yours. Tilting the cup to his lips, he raised an eyebrow, silently giving you a cheers.

The alcohol didn’t affect him as much as your eyes burning into his skin. He tried to chalk it up to the slight buzz, the way your pupils dilated and unblinking. Even though it hadn’t been but a second since he took a drink, it had to be the buzz… At least, that’s what he convinced himself it was… Your eyes mesmerized him, distracting every thought that tried to pass through his head. Next to you, Tara asked a question, but he didn’t hear it.

Though he didn’t mean to, Zayne found himself finishing the cup. It wasn’t often that he indulged in alcohol, especially not the mixed drink in his cup, but the only way to get away from your eyes meant looking at the bottom of that cup. It didn’t phase him in the slightest, the liquid courage effortlessly sliding down his throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Setting the cup down on the table, he raised an eyebrow towards Tara, a light pink hue on his cheeks. You smirked at him, noticing the way he refilled his cup. He took another small sip of the sweet drink; eyes now focused on Tara to hear exactly what was said.

“I asked if you coordinated your outfits. You guys look so good together!” Tara pointed to the matching colors of Zayne’s tie and your outfit. Heat flickered across his cheeks as he took another drink, ignoring the way the alcohol had already raced through his system.

The air around you was tense, your eyes flicking across Zayne’s outfit and finally noticing the coordination. He did ask you what color your outfit was going to be… So, he really picked out a matching tie? A fluttering in your stomach made you clear your throat, bumping shoulders with Tara as you watched Zayne finish his second drink.

Okay, I’m finished. Zayne’s thoughts raced as he set the drink down, his lips quirking up slightly as he noticed your gaze flicker from his tie to your outfit. Of course, he did it on purpose, wanting everyone at the party to know he was your date. He felt the eyes on him as he walked in with you, and people recognized him from the hospital. Everything in him wanted to show you off, even if he wasn’t officially yours; he needed everyone to see he was with you.

“Oh, he asked what color my outfit was going to be. Probably so he didn’t lose me in the crowd.” Shuffling on your feet, your voice raised due to the music, making sure that both Tara and Zayne heard you. It was hard to figure out Zayne’s intentions, and you could only assume it was just him tagging along as a friendly date. Even though you hoped for more…

“ Please ,” Tara whispered into your ear, leaning close. You watched Zayne’s eyes travel between you two. “He’s been giving you the fuck me eyes since we walked in here.”

With a laugh, you landed a light smack on her shoulder. You shook your head, stopping yourself from looking Zayne in the eye. It hadn’t been long since you got there, the songs changing about 10 times overhead as you stood and talked. It felt like an eternity; however, the slight glint in his eyes shone bright as he looked at the bottom of his cup.

Zayne held his cup, looking down and debating whether or not he should get another. It’s not like either of you drove here, and his heart couldn’t help but beat faster as he watched the lights dance off your features. His memory was exceptional, still remembering exact phrases from medical school textbooks, and nothing could erase the sight of you standing there, lights flickering and shining in your eyes, out of his brain. If he could choose one moment to relive before he died, that would be it.

Before you could shut Tara down, telling her that you had only asked him as a friend and that you chickened out and took the easy route, you were interrupted by one of your coworkers coming up to you. His eyes traveled between you both, and Zayne’s jaw clenched. It wasn’t until he extended a hand to Tara, his voice softly asking to dance, that Zayne relaxed a moment.

As Tara looked at you, she winked, walking away with the male. Her laughter echoed as a soft song played, her hands wrapping around the man’s shoulders.

Zayne moved closer to you, leaning over to grab another drink. This one wouldn’t be downed in one shot, he told himself that. As he leaned, his shoulder brushed yours. A shiver ran through him; his face flushed as he noticed just how close you were. All he had to do was lean down and-

“Be careful,” Your voice cut off his thoughts, eyes drifting to the cup in his hand. “I don’t want to have to carry you home.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t. I can handle alcohol.” A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he stepped back, his attention focused on you. Taking a small sip, he held his cup up. It was true; he could hold his alcohol well. His balance and posture remained steady when he drank; however, his words, more often than not, betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, pointing towards Tara and the man she was dancing with. Grabbing Zayne by the sleeve, you pulled him closer, turning him around to watch. Their moves were awkward, with Tara stepping on his shoes and him holding her waist a little too tightly.

“They look like they’re having fun.” Sarcasm laced your voice, a small laugh puffing out from your lips as your hand drops from Zayne’s sleeve. As he looked over to them, he stifled a laugh, finding their awkwardness kind of endearing.

Then, all at once, he realized how close he was to you. His arm brushed against yours, the hand that held his cup tightening slightly. Your perfume surrounded him, and he felt drunk both on the alcohol and his proximity to you. To avoid making his flush even darker, he stuffed his hand into his pocket.

“I think it’s endearing,” Zayne commented, watching them gently sway with the music. Her cheeks were red, hands resting on his shoulders. “I’m sure you’re no better.”

With a laugh, you looked over to him, raising an eyebrow. Just as you were about to challenge him, you heard someone clear their throat. A man walked in front of you, a crisp black vest over a plain blue collared shirt. He looked handsome, his curly brown hair falling just in front of his eyes. Glasses framed his blue eyes as he gave you a sheepish look. If he was also a Hunter, you didn’t recognize him. When your eyes fell on him, he cleared his throat again, his eyes meeting yours momentarily.

“Oh, hi, I’m Alex.” His voice was soft, words stuttering in random places. “I just started here and noticed how pretty you are.” Another cough and he held out a hand for you. “I was wondering if you wanted to dance?”

Zayne’s jaw clenched. Everything in him wanted to intervene, tell the man that he was your date, and if you were to dance with anyone, it would be him . However, he didn’t push it, eyes flickering between you and the man. He didn’t want to force you to stay by his side, and if you wished to go with someone else, you could. Besides, you were just here as friends .

“Oh,” You looked over at Zayne, seeing his jaw clenched slightly. Part of you hoped he would cut in, but another part knew you were just here as friends. With a gentle smile, you looked at Alex, “I’m sorry, but I’m good. I’m already here with someone.”

When you gestured over to Zayne, you watched in amusement as Alex’s eyes traveled over, widening as he took in your date’s calm but mysterious demeanor. Having many articles and interviews in the city paper definitely paid off, a flicker of recognition passing across the man’s features. With a stuttering excuse that you didn’t quite catch, he walked away, his ears a bright red.

“Am I really that scary?” Zayne’s voice was soft in your ear, his cologne surrounding you as he stepped closer. The music overhead drowned out a lot of voices, the soft tones pulsing against your ear drums. Even though you left Zayne’s coat at the door, it was like you were enveloped in the fabric all over again. Is this what it would feel like to be wrapped in his arms?

“No,” Chuckling, you watched him take a sip of his drink, the tips of his ears red from the alcohol. “At least, I don’t think you’re scary…”

His eyes scanned the crowd, watching the men meander around and confront some of the women still standing along the walls. Sure, you were also standing there, admiring the people dancing… But you were standing next to him … Why would they come up to you?

It took him a moment to come back to reality, his gaze falling back on you. That was all that mattered. People could be intimidated by him or scared of his naturally stoic expression, but as long as you weren’t… Nothing else mattered.

“Good,” Zayne said, setting his cup on the table behind him. As the song came to an end, Tara and her partner stood on the dance floor. After a few moments, they walked deeper into the room, closer to the speakers.

A more upbeat song came on, and you smiled at Zayne, focused on the way his eyes darted over your features. With a gentle smile, he nodded, the alcohol affecting him in more ways than one.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” After a small nod, he walked away, weaving through the dancing people. It was somewhat awkward trying to get past people doing everything but grinding against each other.

While he was away, you turned to the table, taking in the beautiful decorations. As a celebration of all the hard work over the last year, the Association decided to throw the party. It was amazing, the small snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and icy white projections making it seem like you were outside in the middle of winter. After all, it was the end of the year, and the cold was already beginning to set in. A subtle shiver ran through you, thinking back to Zayne’s cologne wrapped around you along with the warmth of his coat.

“Excuse me?” A male’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, the face of a man you barely recognized filling your vision. He was very close, his cologne filling your senses. It wasn’t bad, just strong and distinctly not Zayne …

“Oh, hi?” Giving him a small smile, you stepped back against the table. Just a little bit of space…

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” He chuckled, one of his hands behind his back while the other was pushed into the pocket of his slacks. It seemed he decided just to dress business casual and while he didn’t look bad, you couldn’t help but compare him to the beautiful outfit Zayne came in. Your thoughts always drifted back to him… “We work an office away from each other, Stephen?”

“Yeah, Stephen!” Nope, no recollection. A laugh with no intent behind it left your lips, your eyes drifting around the room to find Zayne. He wasn’t there to scare the guy away…

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me?” Stephen asked, his ears bright red as the song changed to one that was much slower.

The thought of dancing to that song with him was unappealing. Your heart raced as your mouth fell open. Stuttered half-words fell from your lips as you looked around. You did not want to hurt his feelings, but you did not want to dance with anyone but Zayne.

Your attempt at a rejection was cut off by someone standing in front of you, his back nearly pressed to your front. Zayne’s cologne overwhelmed you, and you smiled, looking from around his shoulder as Stephen took in Zayne’s appearance. Far too handsome for an event like this…

“Actually, they already have a date, and we’ll be dancing now.” Zayne’s icy voice cut through the music, his tone polite but curt. With a nod, Stephen left almost as quickly as he appeared, his cheeks now matching in tone with his ears.

A short laugh fell from your lips as Zayne turned around, the tips of his ears red, and his eyes focused on yours. While it was most likely the effect of the alcohol in his system, you couldn’t help the shy smile; your eyes drifted to the ground. The way he looked at you was so intense as if he was committing every detail to memory.

“Thank you for coming to save me.” With a smile, you let out a relieved, breathy laugh, your heart returning back to normal as Zayne looked at you.

“Well?” His voice was soft, the song wrapping around him and causing his already tipsy mind to go to other places. He held out his hand to you, head bowing and eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes. “I thought we were going to dance?”

Oh… He actually wanted to dance? With a small nod, you took his hand, his warm and clammy palm enveloping yours in a gentle hold. It must have been from the tipsy whirlwind going on in his mind… It must have … The calm doctor becoming entrapped in your eyes. You had never known Zayne as one for such intense eye contact, nor did you remember his gaze traveling over your body as it did.

As he led you out onto the dance floor, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Electricity tickled your nerve endings as he stopped, the hand that wasn’t holding yours moving to your hip to pull you just a little closer. Even though the winter air settled outside, there was a warmth that grew between you.

“Is this okay?” Zayne’s voice was gentle, much like the way he held your hip. You were far enough away that you could push him off if you wanted to. Of course, you didn’t want to… As you tried to speak, your voice was lost in your throat, and the close proximity was nothing new; he had been close while listening to your heart and whatnot. But his eyes and his touch were different, and they made you feel like you were the one drinking.

“Yeah!” You spit it out as Zayne began to pull away from you, taking your silence as rejection. After clearing your throat, you rested your hand on his shoulder, stepping closer. “Yes, it’s okay.”

Under the icy white lights, Zayne looked at you, and instead of shivering, he was warm inside. For as long as he could remember, you made your home in his heart, and having you close, his fingers brushing your lower back, caused his already tipsy state to dive off the deep end.

“You look beautiful tonight,” He murmured, making sure the words were for you and only you. Taking a step left, then right, then back, you let Zayne lead you. The song was very slow, almost one that would be played at a wedding. Zayne couldn’t help the drifting thoughts spurred on by the alcohol… Is this what you would look like if you got married to him?

“Thank you,” The words were whispered in the air, your feet brushing against each other as you danced to the music. It was like everyone else disappeared, and you focused solely on the man in front of you. His eyes drifted across your face, a gentle smile gracing his lips. If Zayne were anything, it was truthful, sometimes to his detriment, but he would never lie about how he found you stunning, talented, amazing…

“Of course.” His cheeks were bright red, and you were pushed into silence. Your eyes locked onto his as you stepped to the music. The song seemed to stretch into eternity, and you lost yourself in Zayne’s eyes as you danced.

As the song drifted to a close, you stepped away from Zayne. He couldn’t help but stand still, his hand still resting on your hip. When you stepped away, his hands fell to his side, his cheeks a bright red. Whether it was from the alcohol or the proximity of your body, he didn’t know; perhaps it was both.

An upbeat song began to play through the room, and you chuckled, looking around at the table where you had previously stood. With a jerk of your head, a smile graced your lips. “I’m not a good dancer when it comes to these songs. Let’s go.” “Agreed,” He hiccuped, following you back to the table. Somewhere along the way, the alcohol caught up to him, his vision blurring slightly as he leaned against the wall. It was slightly embarrassing; he didn’t want to be seen like this.

“Zayne? Are you okay?” As you spoke, you pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin was unusually hot, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes blinking in a slow flutter.

“I’m afraid I may have had too much to drink.” Leaning down, his face moved closer to yours. He stared at you, an amused smile on his lips. He chuckled, pulling back and closing his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded, a long sigh hitting you. “I should probably go home.” “How about we head to my apartment? You drove there, and you’re not driving to your house…” you trailed off. “I have a spare bed; you can sleep it off.” With a nod, you held onto Zayne’s arm, beginning to steer him towards the exit. Tara would probably ask you questions on Monday, but you needed to get Zayne home and safe in bed. His bicep flexed as you grabbed his coat. It didn’t look like he needed it, so you draped it over your shoulders. “Ready to go?” You asked, trying to ignore the way his hand brushed across your hip. It was just a friendly gesture, holding onto Zayne’s arm and leading him out the door. The night air was crisp and cold, but Zayne’s face was still bright red, his eyes drifting to the ground, watching the way your hand wrapped around your arm, the way his coat draped over your shoulders. His coat … Wrapped around you…

Your footsteps echoed on the sidewalk, passing bars and clubs with yelling people and bass-filled music. This was a stark contrast to the silence that drifted between your bodies. His skin was warm, and his breath came out in soft pants as fog rose in the air.

It wasn’t long until you made your way to your building, letting Zayne lean on the wall as the elevator brought you up to your floor. With shaky steps, you wrapped an arm around Zayne’s waist, feeling him lean on your body as you unlocked your door. He was silent as he leaned into you, his eyes slowly blinking.

His mind was whirling a mile a minute, enjoying the way your arm wrapped around him. Your touch on his waist sent electricity down his spine, his thoughts running to what it would feel like to hold you in his arms.

Closing the door behind him, you walked him to the spare room, letting him fall onto the bed with a hollow thump. Chuckling, you watched him lie on his side, looking up at you. He was thinking something, his eyes searching yours, and although he was a bit tipsy, it was still hard to read his expression.

“Sit, please,” Zayne asked, patting the spot next to him. Moving to sit against the headboard, he watched you sit facing him. With his heart beating in his chest, he closed his eyes, thoughts fluttering around like butterflies. You were so distracting with your beautiful face and the way you looked at him. Sometimes, he could imagine that you felt the same way.

“Do you need anything?” Worry spread through you as Zayne closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. It wasn’t often that you saw him drink, and there was no way you had seen him like this… What if he was sick?

“You,” His mouth caught up to him, his eyes shooting open as he realized what he said. Your eyes widened, wanting to speak, but you couldn’t. With a sigh, he relented to his mind, his hand rubbing along his shoulder to release some of the tension that had built up there. Silence echoed in the room, and Zayne swallowed, the feeling of your eyes on him making his skin tingle.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” He sighed, watching your expression for any sense of discomfort or disgust. That was the last thing he wanted… And he wasn’t sure if he could live in a world without you. The thought of losing you made his chest hurt, and he shook his head. “I… I understand I’m springing this on you, but now that I’ve said it, I guess I should let it all out in the open.”

“Zayne-”

“I… I can’t bear the thought of being without you, and if this ruins our friendship and our professional relationship, then so be it.” Crossing his legs, he ran a hand through his hair. His normally colder expression turned to one of exasperation and worry. “But I feel things for you that a friend wouldn’t feel for a friend. My body reacts in ways that nothing else can cause except you .” Your breath hitched, listening to the words fall from his lips. He really felt that way… All of your dreams rushed back to you, the thoughts of going on dates, visiting his office with lunch. His feelings made everything clear. He felt the same way …

Except what if it was the alcohol? What if he was only saying these things because he was past the point of tipsy? Alcohol can make people say things just to get into bed with someone… Who’s to say that it isn’t affecting Zayne the same way? With a sigh, you looked down at your hands, seeing Zayne’s fingers twitching on his stomach.

“Zayne…” You started, your heart racing quickly. Wanting to believe him and also knowing the effects of alcohol on a person’s feelings. “I think it’s just the alcohol speaking. You need to rest.”

Your hand brushed against his shoulder, and his head spun. Just the smallest touch from you made his muscles freeze, his fingers clenching. He couldn’t take it, every touch and glance, his heart beating so fast. The fact that you didn’t believe him was slightly frustrating, but he also understood. Maybe in the morning …

“Yes, rest.” With a nod, he looked at you. “Let’s rest.” His eyes drifted down to your hands, wondering what they felt like on his face, or his neck, or his chest… “Is it too much to ask if you’ll stay here with me?”

He knew he was pushing it, your own belief wavering at his suggestion and the alcohol running through his system. Desperation flowed through his veins, and he wanted so badly to wrap his body around you. His soul ached to be closer to yours, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

“Uhm…” Humming, you searched his face. Of course, you trusted him; he wouldn’t pull anything funny, but what would happen in the morning if he woke up with you in his arms? Would he regret what he said? Would he even remember ? Taking a deep breath, you relented, nodding your head. “Let me go change into something more comfortable… And I’ll be back.”

Before he could say anything, you walked out of the room. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you changed into comfortable pajamas. Standing in the middle of your bedroom, you took a few breaths. Half of you wanted to climb into your own bed and let him sleep it off. The other half wanted to crawl into his embrace, kiss him, let him hold you close.

The latter half won, and you walked into the spare room, finding Zayne already under the covers. Resting his head on his hand, he sat up, watching you with a smile. The blush on his cheeks was illuminated by the lights of the room. He had flipped the covers back, silently inviting you. A small smile forced its way onto your face, and you shook your head.

Climbing into the bed, you immediately felt his warmth. As you lay on your back, you felt Zayne’s eyes on you, trailing down your body to the edge of the covers. Your face heated up, looking over and catching him staring. With a laugh, you turned over to face him, your eyes searching his face.

“What are you thinking?” It was a dangerous question to ask the tipsy man who just confessed to having feelings for you that a friend shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. His breath sped up as he looked at you, his hand hanging off his waist.

How could he describe what he’s thinking? That he needed you in every sense of the word? That he felt incomplete when you weren’t around? That no matter what he did, his thoughts always drifted back to you?

“I’m thinking about you, laying right here in front of me.” His voice dropped low, lips curled into a small smile. Nothing could stop the way he admired you, like nothing else in the world mattered. Nobody could take him away from you; nothing could take him away from you… He would always find you. “I’m thinking about how my heart calms whenever I’m around you.”

Your skin prickled with each of his words, the distance between you seemingly too much for either of you to handle. Despite your better judgment, you moved closer, watching as Zayne flipped onto his back. With an open arm, he watched you crawl into the empty space. Your arm rested on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under your hand while your head nestled into his shoulder.

It felt nice, but the worries crept up to you as you remembered he was drunk… The thought of waking up in the morning to an empty bed, the aforementioned man gone, along with the hope of any real truth to his statement, was terrifying. Yet you were swayed by his warm embrace, his fingers dancing along your arm as you lay still.

“Just relax, darling,” Zayne whispered, his own body still quite tense. It was everything he ever wanted, to hold you close. While he knew in the back of his tipsy mind that you might only be doing this to appease his drunken demeanor… He also hoped that he would remember this happening in the morning. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

With a deep breath, you nodded, your muscles relaxing as you closed your eyes. It was nice, his fingers slowly dancing up and down your arm. Since you turned off the light overhead, the only source of sight was the lamp on the nightstand. The events of the night caught up to you, and you yawned, your own body preparing for sleep.

“Good night, Zayne.” The nickname he called you… Darling … Your heartbeat sped up, and you took a breath, forcing your eyes to close. If you lay like this for too long, you wouldn’t ever be able to sleep, too caught up in the feeling of his muscular arm wrapped around you.

“Good night, darling.” Zayne yawned, his own eyes closing as the alcohol caught up to him, pushing him into a deep sleep almost instantly.

You laid awake for a few minutes, drifting back to the party, his jealous actions that you brushed off, and then the drunken confession. Was it real? Was it genuine? You weren’t sure, but you fell asleep with the hope that the morning would bring a clearer picture.

--------

Zayne’s eyes ripped open as he felt the sun’s rays on his face. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, with you in his arms, was not something he expected. You looked so peaceful, sleeping soundly in his arms. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, and Zayne smiled.

Wait… What happened?

Looking around, Zayne took in his surroundings, realizing that he was still in his formal attire from the party and you were dressed in pajamas. His mind drifted to the party, remembering the men coming up to ask you to dance… The drink in his cup slowly disappeared with each clench of his jaw. It was sweet and tasted just like candy.

“Fuck,” Zayne couldn’t help the expletive, pressing his head further into the pillow. Why couldn’t he remember?

His erratic breathing and small movements shifted your body. Your eyes opened to the sight of a flushed Zayne looking around the room. Your heartbeat sped up as you remembered everything that happened.

“Morning.” You whispered, sitting up. His eyes flicked over to meet yours, his cheeks a light pink as he moved to sit against the headboard. “Do you… Uh, do you remember what happened?”

Zayne’s heart sped up, clearing his throat. He never wanted to lie to you, and he had to admit he was curious about what had transpired, seeing the position he had woken up in. With a shake of his head, he looked down at his lap. “No… No, I don’t remember.”

Your heart sank, throat constricting around all the words that you wanted to say. Of course … When he figured out what he said, he would probably regret it, taking back all of the feelings he had shared with you.

“Oh… Okay.” With an awkward chuckle, you tried to pull back, escape the room, and wallow in tears for a bit. The thought of being so elated that he shared your feelings only to look up and see sharp icicles ready to pierce you. “Well, I guess you can go now if you want.”

“Wait,” His voice was firm, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He didn’t want you to go, and he didn’t want to leave without resolving whatever happened. Judging by the look on your face, he knew something happened after you left the party. “What happened? At least tell me.”

He wished he could just remember , but perhaps it was the alcohol that kept him from retaining all the memories. Perhaps it was just his own brain that knew what happened and didn’t want him to remember…

“Uhm…” You paused for a moment, caught between wanting to tell him exactly what happened and lying. At least if you lied, you could continue your friendship with no hurdles. Except for the deep hole in your heart when you heard his voice in your head saying those lines over and over. I feel things for you that a friend wouldn’t feel for a friend …

“Please tell me. I want to remember.” Zayne pleaded, his voice desperate. If there was anything he wanted to do, it was remember . “I want to know…”

It was embarrassing even thinking about it, much less saying it out loud. With a breath, you closed your eyes, not wanting to watch as the realization set in. “Well, you said that you felt things for me that a friend doesn’t feel for another friend… Then you asked me to join you in this bed… Then you said that your heart calms down when you’re around me…” You cleared your throat, your body heating up as you recalled the last part. “Uhm, you also said that your body reacts in ways around me… Yeah.”

Silence fell between you as Zayne stared at your face, your eyes still closed in fear of seeing the regret and realization pass across his features. It took a moment for him to realize everything that you said, his mind vaguely remembering the words falling from his lips. “I did?” His voice was nearly a whisper, disbelief in his voice with a hint of embarrassment. How could he do this? What if it ruined his entire friendship with you… He could lie and say it was just the alcohol, but could he really say that he didn’t mean it when, deep down, he just wanted you to know his true feelings? “Oh, I- I’m sorry. If I ruined things between us.”

Your eyes remained shut, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you heard his voice. Fuck . So he didn’t mean it; he didn’t reciprocate all the things you felt for him. With a sigh, you struggled to speak, wanting to ask if it was true but also not wanting to hear the answer…

“Did you mean it?” Your mouth started the sentence before your brain could stop you, and your eyes fluttered open to see the deep blush on Zayne’s cheeks. This time, it wasn’t the alcohol… “Everything you said, was it the alcohol speaking, or do you actually feel that way?”

“Of course, it wasn’t the alcohol.” He was caught now, and he had no choice but to admit the truth. He couldn’t lie to you, especially after hearing the vulnerability in your voice as you asked him. “I actually feel that way about you. You’re beautiful and, talented, and kind. I think about you every second of the day, and there isn’t a moment of my life where I don’t want to be near you. I can’t help the way my body reacts around you…”

“Oh,” Looking down at your hands, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced as he looked at you, your own body reacting to his words. You wanted him, and it seemed he wanted you just the same.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way…” He trailed off, his dress pants bunching around his thighs as he moved to get off the bed.

“Wait!” Your hand on his wrist stopped him, his skin now freezing cold compared to the night before. “I do, though. I feel the same way.” You clarified, trying to calm your beating heart with a few deep breaths. Just the feeling of your hand on his wrist made Zayne clench his jaw. Every atom in his body vibrated as he smelled your fragrance waft around him.

“Really?” His eyes trailed down to your mouth, watching as your tongue darted out to trace along your bottom lip. The thoughts he so often fantasized about flashed in his mind, and he wanted so desperately to reach out, pull you closer, and never let you go. A flash of deja vu passed through him, and he turned his body to face you. He remembered this…

“Yeah, really.” Your hand moved to rest on top of his, feeling his muscles strain and tighten under your fingers. Watching as his eyes drifted to your lips, a surge of need flowed through you, and you sat up on your knees.

“Well then,” Zayne moved, taking your hand in his. His body angled towards you, legs stretched out on the bed. With a small tug, he pulled you closer, your hand now burning into his shoulder. Your warmth emanated through his entire body, and he sighed. The feeling of you so close made his heart feel complete. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart raced, Zayne was asking to kiss you … It was all you had ever wanted, and now that he was there , asking to kiss you… The only thing you could do was nod in confirmation, moving so your nose brushed against his cheek.

Zayne’s hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing along your cheekbones. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, his heart thrumming so badly he was worried he might not survive even kissing you for the first time. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitance, his nose nuzzling yours. His breath mingled with yours as he felt your hands on his waist, your knee pressing against his thigh as you inched even closer.

“Are you sure?” He needed confirmation to know that you wanted him just like he wanted you. A trepidation passed over him as his voice pleaded with you.

“Yes, I’m sure…” You breathed, smiling in hopes of easing some of his obvious tension. “I want you to kiss me, Zayne.”

It was all you had to say before Zayne pressed his mouth to yours. His lips were chilly, and he was slightly awkward, the way his nose bumped yours. It had been a long time since he kissed someone, and never this intensely , and never did it feel that good. The hands on your cheeks barely touched you, like he was afraid of holding you too tight.

So you took the initiative, moving your leg over to straddle his thighs. Oh my god … Your hands played with his collar, pressing your mouth into his. Soft smacks and low moans fell from Zayne’s lips as you kissed him, his cheeks a cherry-red and getting hotter by the second.

Zayne pulled away first, his head hitting the wall behind him. His touch traveled to your hips, holding you still. If you moved up any further, he would have a very big problem… The sensations were too much, and he needed to take a deep breath, afraid he would make a mess of his slacks and embarrass himself even more.

“Hold on,” He panted, taking in the sight in front of him. You were so beautiful , sitting softly on his thighs, your own chest rising and falling with deep breaths. The way your hands held his collar, your lips glistened with saliva, it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Do you want to continue this?” Your voice shot right through Zayne and straight to his cock, his slacks becoming even tighter than they already were. The feeling of his hands on your hips, a ghost of his presence against your skin, made you frustrated. If only he would touch you … “Because I do.”

Zayne stared at you in disbelief, his abdomen clenching as he closed his eyes. Never in his dreams did he think he would be in this position, your perfect thighs on either side of his own, hovering dangerously close to his hips. Your eyes, watching his every movement, every twitch of his eyebrow, every small quirk in his lip. Your fingers played with his collar, drifting close to the buttons of his shirt. The need to just rip open his shirt and see him laid out for you was high, yet you needed confirmation.

“Yes, yes .” He breathed out, pulling you forward to kiss you again. The thoughts of his inexperience didn’t hinder him; he needed you in every sense of the word. “You have no idea, darling, how much I want this. Want you .”

His words were pressed into your mouth, your tongue tracing his bottom lip before entering to tangle with his. A low groan echoed in your chest as Zayne’s hands moved you up onto his lap, where you could feel just how excited he was. Your clothed pussy pressed against his erection, both of you feeling the shocks through your body.

“Please,” He groaned, your hands playing with the buttons of his shirt. The fact he slept with this on, just for your comfort, so you didn’t feel weird with a half-naked man sleeping next to you, made you smile. With quick fingers, you pushed his shirt off his shoulders, your lips still meeting between moans. His skin glistened with sweat as you cupped his jaw, your lips moving along the expanse of his neck and shoulder.

You were careful not to make marks, and your sloppy licks and nips only made red spots that would disappear by the next morning. That doesn’t mean you didn’t want to mark him; make sure he remembered what you two did. Each nip was accompanied by a groan from the man above you, and his hands remained motionless on your hips.

“Zayne,” Your hands ghosted across his abdomen, thumbs brushing his nipples before moving to rest on his shoulders once more. A gasp fell from his lips as you said his name, his hips adjusting and his cock brushing against your pajama pants. “You can touch me, grab me, anything .”

But I don’t want to hurt you … His thoughts echoed in his head; eyebrows furrowed as he held onto your hips just a bit tighter. Something deep inside him was scared , like one wrong move, and he would cause you pain. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but hearing your voice broke him out of his fear slightly.

“Just… If I do anything you don’t like…” His voice was a whisper pressed against your shoulder, his hand playing with the hem of your shirt. “Or if anything hurts , please tell me. I haven’t done this before… And I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

As his hand slipped under your shirt, you gasped, nodding along to his pleas. His fingers were cold, and your nipples immediately hardened as his thumb brushed your left breast. He was testing the waters, his mind clouded with need but also hesitance.

The way his large hand drifted across your skin, along your stomach and breasts, you couldn’t help the moan that brushed across his shoulder. He needed to touch you, all of you , and as he reached your back, his nails lightly scratched your skin, enjoying the way your thighs clenched around his hips.

“Yes, fuck.” Your forehead rested against his bare shoulder, your hand gripping his skin tightly as his fingers danced up and down your back. “I’ll tell you, but I need you right now, Zayne.”

With frantic hands, you tugged your shirt off, enjoying the way Zayne’s eyes widened only for a moment before you were standing up. “Pants off,” you motioned to the man on the bed, your hands pushing your pajama pants down. You didn’t mean to be so demanding, but as Zayne’s fingers twitched slightly, his cheeks flushing deeper red, it was clear he enjoyed it a bit.

Zayne fumbled with the button of his slacks, his fingers shaking in anticipation of what was about to happen. A gasp echoed in the room as he struggled to take his pants and briefs off, his cock pressing against his abdomen as he finally let the pieces of fabric fall to the floor. Sitting back on the bed, he looked at you, eyes pleading silently.

His pupils dilated as he took in your naked form, from your feet to your thighs, to your stomach and breasts, all the way up to your face. He didn’t miss the way your gaze settled on his cock, and he blushed, knowing he was big but hoping you were okay with that.

Walking towards him, you settled back into your previous position, his cock now nestled between your slick folds. Arousal dripped from your entrance and coated his balls as you rubbed yourself along his length. His hands gripped your hips tightly, muscles in his arms straining.

“Wait,” He stopped you, his jaw clenched as he felt a pool of his own precum settling just below his navel. With a shaky breath, he looked down, seeing only his tip poking out from between your bodies. “I’m afraid if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum.”

His honestly always amazed you, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you nodded. Your hands wandered across his body, thumbs tweaking his nipples and watching as he closed his eyes and groaned.

The noises he made were so pretty , each moan and groan only adding to the dripping slick that covered his thighs and cock. You wanted to hear every single variation, every moan, and whimper, every gasp and whisper, but hopefully that could be for another time.

Zayne knew what was coming, the sight of you on top of him, your hand drifting dangerously close to his cock. Leaning over to the nightstand, he grabbed his wallet. His cheeks bloomed red as he brought out a foil packet. As he met your eyes, he chuckled, shaking his head at your teasing smirk.

“This is just a precaution… In case something like this happened…” He stuttered, his hand shaking slightly as he looked at you. Sex wasn’t something that was on his mind often, yet he knew it might come up, and he wanted to be prepared. The fact that it was with you … It was his dream come true. “I mean if we did something… Or someone else… Or-”

Your hands covering his stopped his rambling. You laughed, taking the packet from him and ripping it open with your teeth. Scooting back just enough to take hold of his impressive cock, you stared straight into his wide-open eyes as you slid the condom onto his length. He swore he could cum just from that alone, your gaze piercing through his soul and making his cock twitch as you released him.

“Oh my,” He gasped, his hands moving back to your hips as your pussy glided back across his cock once again. “Don’t tease, darling.”

A silence fell between you both, your eyes searching one another for any hint of hesitance. Your hands drifting from his chest to his shoulders. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, softer than the previous clash of mouths and tongues. Zayne’s heart raced, his thumbs brushing along your hip bones as you kissed him, and he relaxed a bit.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked, your lips only centimeters away from his. The light from the sunrise filtered through the curtains, casting a beautiful orange hue across the room, and Zayne couldn’t think of a time when you looked more stunning than you did now. Your body displayed in front of him, your eyes following his every move and your smile , asking to make sure he really wanted it, and fuck of course he did.

“ Yes ,” He couldn’t say anything else that would convey just how badly he needed you. No amount of whining or pleading could ever show you how much he wanted to be buried deep inside you. “There’s nothing else in the world that I want more…”

Time seemed to slow down as you stroked his cock, sitting up on your knees to position him at your entrance. His attention flickered from where his tip nestled against your hole to your eyes, hooded and watching him like a hunter with their prey. Keeping your plea in mind, his hands tightened on your hips, feeling you sink down onto his cock in one fluid drop.

It was like the air was knocked out of your lungs, his thick cock stretching you out so deliciously. Your heart rocketed against your chest, your nails digging into his shoulders as the back of your thighs finally laid flush against his hips. The curve of his cock pressed right into your sweet spot, your pussy clenching around him.

Zayne needed to take a breath; his eyes squeezed shut as he centered himself. Breathe … In through his nose and out through his mouth. It was insane to think, but he felt complete , like he was made to fit inside you, to fit against you or even next to you. One of his hands moved to cup your breast, the other drifting behind you to knead the flesh of your ass. He needed his hands on you, all over you, and hopefully, in the future, inside you .

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his tone one of shock and awe. The thought had you laughing, and you pressed another kiss to his lips in appreciation. His hands were still cold, and you shivered both from his touch and from the way he looked at you. It was like his hands were making a map of your skin, drawing imaginary lines and dips that he could chart on his journey to touch every inch of you.

“Thank you,” You moved your hips, feeling his cock rubbing against your walls. A soft hum fell from your lips, your head tilted back, and your eyes closed as you enjoyed the slow drag. “You’re quite handsome yourself.”

He wasn’t sure what to do, his hands roaming along your body, caressing every inch of skin he could reach. It was all so much , the feeling of your thumb brushing his nipple and the way your pussy so perfectly fluttered around him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes closing in an attempt to prolong his orgasm. Although he tried desperately, his fingers curled tighter on your ass, and you were sure you would have a bruise there in the coming hours.

“You- you can move now,” He stuttered out, his tone nearing a whine. His suggestion sounded more like a plea, one that you were happy to oblige. Sitting up, you felt the smooth drag of his cock, until only his tip was nestled inside. You picked up the pace, sitting down on his cock over and over and over. Each time was even more pleasurable than the last.

“ Fuck ,” Zayne didn’t indulge in swear words very often, but the circumstance seemed right. His mind was so caught up in the way your thighs slapped against his own, the noises echoing through your apartment, that he didn’t realize the tight grip he had on your hip. His fingers dug into your skin, and his jaw clenched tight as he tried so hard to will his orgasm away for just a few more minutes.

Your breasts bounced in his face as you rode him, your moans wrapping around him and pulling him closer to you. Without warning, his nose pressed into your chest, right between your tits. Claps and groans filled the air, his tongue lapping at your salty skin. His hazel eyes shone as he looked up at you from his spot between your breasts.

To tease him, you stopped momentarily, your hips flush against his. It was fun toying with him, watching his eyebrows rise and mouth gape open in a gasp. The furrow in his brow made your stomach leap, a soft groan coming from behind his closed lips as he stared at you. Desperate to be closer to him, you leaned forward, pulling him up from his spot between your tits to press your lips against him in a harsh dance.

Zayne hummed, his tongue pressing and wrapping around yours. A trail of spit dribbled from the side of his mouth, his need and desperation showing in the way he held you. One of his hands dug into your hip, the other now pushing against your back until your chest was flush against his. His heartbeat matched yours, the vibrations echoing through his head as he held you close. It was like you completed him, your body fitting perfectly against his. The cold and empty half of his heart had finally found a home in you, and he wasn’t sure why he felt this way, nor exactly what it meant… But his body knew.

“Fuck, darling.” Zayne rested his forehead against yours, biting his lip as your thumb tweaked his nipple again. He loved it, and having never experienced anything like this before, he didn’t know just how he would react. Gasps and lewd moans spurred you on, his hips bucking up into you for some other type of friction - though he had a feeling he might have been able to come just from his nipples alone…

“You like that?” You didn’t mean for your tone to be as teasing as it was; you were genuinely interested, wanting to elicit any sort of reaction from the normally hard-to-read man below you. It seemed like he enjoyed your voice, however, because you felt him twitch inside you, your bouncing slowing down to help him speak.

“I… I guess so.” He fought between his teeth, his thighs flexing under you as you languidly dragged your pussy up and down his cock. Having never done anything close to this before, he had to pride himself on his resolve, his abdomen flexing and releasing as he fought off his orgasm.

Zayne’s hand on your back moved to your ass, his hand kneading your flesh as you sped up your hips. Riding him was a thrill, feeling his thighs tensing every time you sat fully on top of him, his hands both guiding you and helping you grind your clit against his stubbly pubic bone.

You weren’t prepared for the way he suddenly leaned forward again, his face pressed against your chest. Turning his head, his nose brushed against the side of your breast, his warm breath fanning across your nipple. In an attempt to silence himself, he sucked on the skin of your chest, leaving a dark red mark. His tongue flattened along your flesh, moving to the side and nipping at your other breast.

Seeing the way your chest moved in front of his face, your moans echoing around him, and your pussy clenching him so tight … He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. His hand dug into the flesh of your hip, his other hand lifting to bring your nipple to his mouth. Gasping, your hand flew to his hair, holding him against your chest as he dragged his teeth along your skin.

With a hiss, you pulled him off, seeing his apologetic look before his tongue flattened across the sensitive nub. His warm mouth enveloped you, his tongue flicking and doing things that made you second guess his claim of it being his first time.

Your hips stuttered, clit grinding against his abdomen with each thrust. His hand held you so tightly, guiding you to ensure you were feeling just as good as he was. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and you whimpered, the combined sucking on your tit and each thrust that filled you to the brim; it was too much.

“Zayne, I…” You stopped, a vibrating hum pulsing through your body as the man below you nodded. His own hips stuttered, jerking into yours as he tried to help you there. Caught in his own heat, he wrapped his lips around your nipple, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“Oh my god , Zayne.” You moaned, closing your eyes. The heat ignited in you, feeling Zayne’s groans against your chest as he came undone, emptying into the condom. It wasn’t but seconds later that you followed, your pussy tightening around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

It wasn’t until you stopped that you realized just how much your knees ached, and you fell into Zayne’s arms. Feeling the stickiness of his sweat and spit on himself, he rolled you over so you were lying on your back, your limbs stretched out across the bed. Standing up, he let his eyes trail across your body for a moment, admiring how beautiful you looked in the afterglow, the sun greeting you from behind the horizon.

Quick steps brought him to your bathroom, disposing of the condom and splashing some cold water on his face and chest. His eyes met his reflection in the mirror, and he chuckled, somehow thinking he had traveled to another dimension or was stuck in a dream.

Except when he saw you laying there, your body glistening and spent, he knew it was real; he wasn’t imagining it. Slipping on his briefs, he joined you in bed, his heart speeding up as you curled into him. Your still naked body pressed against him, chin resting on his chest as you analyzed his features.

“Zayne…” You started, your mind wandering to thoughts that you hoped weren’t true, yet you couldn’t help but worry. “Did this mean anything to you?”

He pondered it for a moment, his hand wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you so you were lying fully on top of him. Looking down at you, he smiled, closing the small distance to press a kiss to your lips. It was innocent, holding the hope of something real in it.

“Of course it did, darling.” He said simply, his hands trailing across your hips. Trying to put it into words was hard; just how much it meant to him that you were his first, the one he felt the most connected to. It meant a lot that you felt the same way and that this was the beginning of a new chapter in your friendship, one that drifted more to the romantic side of things. “It meant that, hopefully, this was the start of a new step in our relationship. A step into something more real.”

The memory of the way he held you so tightly popped up into his mind, and his eyes widened. With a jerk of his head, he looked down, inspecting your hips for any marks. He frantically searched you, looking at your jaw, down your neck, across your breasts. A dark red mark in the middle of your chest had his jaw gaping.

“Did I hurt you?” His hand drifted over the mark like he was afraid to touch it in case it caused you more pain. He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you, whether it be due to the intense pleasure or not, it was unacceptable …

“Oh, no.” You shook your head, tilting it to the side to look at him from another angle. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes, a sense of peace washing over you. You knew he would never hurt you, though you had to admit you wanted to see what he could give you if you riled him up enough. “I liked it, don’t worry.”

“Okay… Good.” Zayne smiled, watching as you yawned and lay on his chest. The sun was beginning to rise, but he shifted your body up against his, his arms wrapping around you securely. Throwing the blanket back over your bodies, he closed his eyes.

Although your relationship was uncertain, you knew he felt the same way, and you wanted nothing more than to make it work. He patted the top of your head, his heartbeat returning to normal as he watched you drift off in his arms. “Let’s go to sleep, darling. I can take you out for a lunch date later before I go in for my shift at the hospital.”

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horrorhot-line · 7 months ago

Text

serendipity

(n.) the occurrence and development of events by chance, in a happy or beneficial way.

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo / immune! reader

➵ word count: 16k

➵ genre: of first meetings and crack

➵ warnings: none

➵ summary: s1 ep 1 & 2. on your first day at pk academy, you witness saiki use pyrokinesis. from that moment forward, you become hell-bent on avoiding him at all costs. it’s easier said than done, especially after you find yourself unintentionally foiling chiyo yumehara’s plans to get close to him.

➵ masterlist (requests are open)

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader.’

‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’

“saiki talking without moving his mouth.”

“saiki talking using his mouth.”

if you use the above format of speech in your fanfic, please credit as I was the first to come with it, thank you <3

author's notes: this post is a rewrite from my friends to lovers series that I first posted back in 2020, the relaunch you've been waiting for is finally here! it's still pretty much the same with a few changes here and there, hope you all enjoy <3

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Ever since you could remember, the way the world worked didn't make sense. Your fragile child brain, not yet fully developed, was incapable of understanding that the very universe was shifting before you, at the hands of certain psychic no less.

You were 4 when you realised that other's wounds would go away quickly. Scrapes, bumps, cuts, you name it, they would heal almost instantaneously. You didn't possess such an ability, it seemed. All the doctors were curious as to why you would come to the hospital with bruises and wounds since it was unusual that, unlike everyone else, your injuries wouldn't heal after a day. Looking at the MRIs and Ex-rays on the desk as the adults talked, you pondered the same thing.

You chalked it up to you being weaker than others, despite the lingering at the back of your mind that something was terribly wrong. Then again, it was better to stay quiet than address the questions from said adults, questions you didn’t yet have concrete answers to.

You were 5 when you started sprouting neon green hair at the roots, until a few weeks later— the tone began returning to its natural colour. You grew out the ugly patch of lime until you could chop it off. The worst of it was the fact that no one said anything about changing hair colour practically overnight. It didn't sit right with you. Out of all the classmates in your elementary school, you were the only one with what others considered as abnormal coloured hair— and to top it off, you were sure you were the normal one.

That wasn't all that seemed to be amiss. Individuals could knock others unconscious with just a chop to the neck, clothes could be ripped off while the crotch remained covered, and tiny people could be incredibly strong. None of these applied to you; you couldn't do any of it— the reason still a mystery.

Despite being so young, how was it possible for you to notice these things? Well, it was as simple as— every time it felt like a new phenomenon would occur, a splitting headache would hit you. As a child, your body was unable to handle the strain of whatever was happening with the world, and you would develop a fever as a result. It would leave you bedridden for a week, but as you grew, you found it became easier to handle.

You would have ignored all the weird things happening around you— wouldn't have found it hard not to pay any attention to the unusual phenomena. However, as you aged, it became harder to brush under the rug.

You lived life trying your best not to think of the strange occurrences until your 2nd year of high school. A week before you were about to start afresh as a 3rd year, your family asked if you were excited for your second year at school. You hadn't thought much of it, assuming that they had gotten confused. You didn't bother correcting them and continued with your life as usual.

That was until you resumed classes, only to discover that you were still in your second year of high school.

You would have disputed it with the teachers because you were sure you passed the year with flying colours, but you weren't the only one. Your entire class, no— the whole year group itself, were repeating their year again. Not to mention, there were no new first years. That was when you decided things weren't okay. The world was shifting, bending in impossible ways, defying the laws of nature itself, and you were the only one who noticed.

What was more unfortunate was the fact that you couldn't tell anyone. Couldn't breathe a word of your troubles to your friends, fear of word getting around forcing your lips shut. Worst-case scenario— you would be ostracised by your classmates, effectively sentencing yourself to social death and becoming the school's pariah or sent to a mental institute. No one saw the change or acknowledged the difference— you were alone in your findings, so you kept quiet.

Then, answers came to you in the summer holidays after the repeat of your first year, in the form of an old lady at a stall offering tarot card readings. Personally, you didn't believe in the supernatural or magicians and the like. Still, she was persistent, a true salesman at heart, so to speak. Convinced that you were getting scammed, you tried to refuse, but she had already pulled you into the chair behind her stall.

That was how you found out you were immune when it came to the supernatural. The old lady ignored your protests of how you had no money and tried to see into your future, to reveal to you what lay ahead of you, only for her to tell you she couldn't.

After heavy silence and serious contemplation on her side, followed by a barrage of questions— she theorised that you were blocking her from using her abilities on you. The old woman called it 'natural immunity and the ability to nullify someone's powers'. You weren't impressed, but it did feel like her words held some truth as you caught sight of the bright yellow hair under her hood.

That was when you connected the dots since it explained why you were the only one who noticed the changes in the world. You were immune to the phenomenon going on around you. That caused you to wonder who on earth had been messing with the timeline and warping everyone's perception of the world. You weren’t sure you were comfortable with knowing there was a human alive capable of that.

You had asked the old lady if someone could turn back time on a global scale since that seemed to be the only explanation for the year repeating itself. She had brushed it off, laughing at the thought. She had said that if it were possible, it would have to be someone with unimaginable power. The old woman was convinced no human on earth could possess the ability to pull a stunt like that off, muttering something about how 'everyone would have noticed'.

You had left the conversation at that, giving up on trying to make her understand. If you were being honest, you were more curious to learn about your own talents. The old lady was the one who taught you how to manually turn off your immunity when others used their powers on you. "Visualise a broken string between you and me. Then, try to will it to connect."

Closing your eyes, you followed the shady lady's instructions and found that it took an immense amount of your energy to do so. You ended up with a migraine but discovered that she could use her fortune-telling powers on you after the fact.

The old lady had been pleased with the results as she put her cards away, telling you she had just confirmed a sneaking suspicion she had about you. The two of you realised that you could, in fact, turn off your ability (if you could even call it that) when you put enough effort into it.

After your conversation with her, you felt like at least one of your questions had been answered somewhat, but you refused to pay up after she made grabby hands at you. You simply turned on your heels and left, telling her if she was that good at reading the future like she claimed— she would have known you forgot your wallet at home. She had thrown a fit as you walked off, and you had felt bad somewhat, but it's not like you ever wanted the reading to begin with.

You wondered if you could stop your immunity to the weird phenomena around you; ignorance was bliss after all— maybe then you wouldn't be burdened with the knowledge that someone was trying to play some sort of messed up game of chess with the timeline. Then again— what was the point in pondering when you knew you weren't going to try and be the main character and solve the mystery? You'd read enough fanfic to know where that would lead. Major character death with spoilers across the tags; luckily, you had no interest in turning the genre into horror.

The time on earth turned back three times, or that's what you concluded. You weren't sure about the exact number because you stopped counting after the second time you repeated your year. Repeating the year meant that days blended into each other, and you stopped trying to keep track and make sense of it all.

After redoing the academic year three times in total— you assumed, you finally decided enough was enough. You couldn't handle spending another second in the same classroom, with the same people, the same teachers and the same lessons. It drove you insane, so you begged your family to let you transfer. Trying to convince them took a long time, but they finally gave in to your request.

A month before your second year, again, your family moved to a new neighbourhood. You were enrolled at PK Academy, which meant you would start the upcoming school year.

The downside? Free-mixing. The all-girls school was great since there was no dating drama, and mostly everyone in your year just put their head down to study. The horror stories you had heard so far of boys sneaking cameras into the girl's bathroom in other institutions made it hard to see the upside, considering the boys of today might end up being the perverts of tomorrow. Then again, you didn't have a choice— after all that begging, even if you changed your mind, your application form for your new school and dismissal from your old school meant you had to go.

You didn't mind that you had to commute to the school you currently went to before the holidays hit, satisfied that instead of staring up at the ceiling and still unintentionally wondering 'Who done it', you were worried about getting up in time in the morning.

You held onto the fuzzy feeling in your stomach,

see— even your gut was telling you this was one of your finer decisions, one you wouldn't come to regret.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Finding your way to your new high school wasn't too hard when you had the curse and blessing that was your phone. When the direction on your maps changed for the 6th time, telling you to go back the way you came— you gave up, instead opting to tail a group of girls who wore the uniform that matched yours in hopes of not getting lost and finding potential shortcuts, deciding that they would know the way since they went to the same school.

You made it to PK Academy with little to no trouble, using your hands to smooth your shirt down and make yourself look more presentable before you stepped past the gate. Students walked into the school building, chatting amongst themselves. You followed suit, and you wouldn't deny the small skip to your step as excitement bubbled in your veins.

All was good— until it wasn't.

As soon as you stepped past the gate after successfully passing uniform inspection, which you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for, a wave of dizziness hit you, vision fuzzing as you caught sight of something pink out the corner of your eye. You felt nauseous, finding it hard to stay upright. You staggered, soon falling to your knees.

It was all going so well, too...

The rough granite coating the ground scraped your palms, but the searing pain you felt in your head stopped you from processing it. It was like someone had pressed a hot iron to your skull, like gravity was working against you to pin you to the ground— or was gravity working rather too effectively? It didn't matter; now was not the time to be thinking about that!

You heard a teacher shout, the one in a gym tracksuit who had been at the front gates with a ruler in hand, making sure students weren't dressed like delinquents. Your vision swam as you tried to look up at the teacher who seemed to be talking to you. Ringing filled your ears, and you winced at the sound. What on earth was happening to you?

You were panting, finding it hard to hear what the teacher was asking of you. The red of his tracksuit hurt your eyes. "—dent! Can... —walk?" Trying to understand what he was saying became increasingly difficult as you squinted your eyes at him.

You tried to focus on his voice, succeeding after putting in enough effort. "Student! Can you walk?!" You shook your head, no— did it look like you could?! You clutched the strap of your school bag as tightly as you could to try and ground yourself.

You furrowed your eyebrows as another wave of nausea hit you, although not as strong as the last. You felt the need to spill the breakfast you had eaten that morning, all over the floor and maybe some on the teacher's pristine tracksuit. All you could think about was how to ease the pain. Would you have to wait it out, or would you pass out before then? You wanted to curl up on the floor, debating it for a hot minute as you started losing strength in your arm.

You didn't get the chance to, feeling the ground shift beneath you as you were picked up. In no time, you were rushed to what you assumed was the nurse's office. The teacher must have decided to escort you to a somewhat safer place, a gesture you probably should have thanked him for. The only problem was— the pain appeared to worsen the deeper you entered the school building. He should have left you outside.

"Wait here. I'll go find the nurse," The teacher who had escorted you, placed you down on a bed before fetching an ice pack from the freezer. Bold of him to assume you were in any condition to move— but it's not like you were about to say that out loud. "Take this for now." He put the ice pack against your forehead, his arm dropping back to his side when you brought your hand up to hold it.

With that, he took off down the hallway. You would have thanked the teacher for all his help if not for the daze you were in. At least the ringing in your ears had subsided. The headache, however, had become impossible to ignore. You were grateful for the ice pack; its cold helped dull the migraine somewhat.

Great— first day at your new school and you managed to mess it up. You were no doubt missing out on the entrance ceremony— the principal's speech— fantastic! As if things couldn't get better! What had caused you to nearly faint, to begin with? The only time you had felt like this was when weird phenomena would occur, when the way the world worked changed, and you were the only one left to notice. Was there some sort of supernatural activity going on in this school that had caused such a severe reaction in you?

You decided you would try to figure it out later; you were in no shape to play Sherlock. First, you had to deal with the fatigue and nausea. For now, you'd have to focus on getting better— if your condition didn't improve, you'd go home. With a rough plan in mind, at least you had a bit of mental clarity.

Breathing through your nose, you turned to your side to ease the pain you were feeling. You hadn't realised until then that the curtain next to the bed you were on had been pulled, blocking the sight of the door that led to the room. You assumed the teacher had done that, probably to give you some privacy.

Exhaling deeply, you closed your eyes, trying to relax. That proved challenging to do when the peace was disrupted, not even seconds later. You heard a voice coming from afar and ignored it, trying your best to overcome the feeling of nausea that hit you again. Was your condition worsening?

"Huh, is the nurse dead too? That's weird... Guess I'll have to do mouth-to-mouth on you, myself." If you had been in your right mind, you would have laughed, but whoever was speaking just managed to add to your frustrations instead. You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes still closed. Couldn't these strangers be more considerate so as to not disturb someone who was trying to rest?! Then again, they probably didn't know you were there, so you'd give them the benefit of the doubt.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt the bed shake. Your first thought was earthquake until you saw the curtain move as if someone was right next to it on the other side. If you had to guess, someone had probably slammed into it. You registered the sound of an audible grunt, assuming it was most likely from the stranger speaking before, though you couldn't be sure with the curtain still drawn. Had they fallen, or had someone pushed them?

The noise of water running filled the room. "I don't need mouth-to-mouth, you stupid idiot!" Whoever spoke started to gargle their mouth straight after. You clenched your jaw. Whoever these people were, they were aggravating your headache— and by extension, you "You're better? Well, that's nice to see." Why were they still talking?!

Some luck you had— maybe staying at the nurse's office wasn't a good idea after all. In that moment you wished you had just curled up near the school entrance until an ambulance came to your rescue. "Of course, I'm better! I was faking! Was it worth it, though? Since I got kissed by you!" Was this some backward BL you had been dragged into? You were sure you’d read enough fanfiction to know where this was going... If these people had nothing better to do, you wondered why they couldn't just leave.

You adjusted the ice pack on your head, biting your cheek to stop yourself from getting annoyed further. It didn't work— the mouth gargling continued. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm sad too... You were my first kiss." Whoever he was, he whispered the last part as if he was bashful. In any case, you weren't entirely sure that was the best way to go about consoling someone.

You weren't the type to judge over sexual preferences, but why couldn’t they just elope and get married already? Couldn’t they choose a different room to fall over each other and leave you to rest? You rolled your eyes as you gazed up at the ceiling, wondering when they would stop talking and go back to their classes. "Now, everyone's gonna think Nendou and I are in love..."

You nearly snorted at the comment, but not because you found it funny. Typical high school boys with their typical shenanigans. You wished you had stayed home— this was not worth it. No longer did you want to be subjected to listening to either of them go on. You heard someone shuffle angrily across the room. "Hey, you better not tell anyone my fainting spell was a fake! ...Don't tell anyone!"

You decided that enough was enough. To hell with your first day at a new school and good first impressions. You were either going to get those two to leave— or leave yourself and just go home. Whichever was easier in your condition. You sat up and pulled back the curtain roughly, only to realise that there were three people in the room, not two. That's weird; you swore only the two were talking amongst themselves.

The room fell silent as all three boys looked at you in surprise. The one you assumed had slammed into the bed you were resting on, who was still on the floor, had... unique hair. Fashion choice? His mohawk was dyed blonde, while the rest of his hair was weirdly shaved. One of them had referred to him as 'Nendou', that you were sure of.

On closer inspection, you realised he had a scar that ran down his left eye and the most defined butt-chin you had ever seen. It hurt your eyes just to look at him— that's how unpleasant his face was. He resembled a delinquent, but his mannerisms said otherwise. The one you assumed had been faking his sick had green hair and fish-like lips. Both of them were... unsightly, to say the least, and you swore just witnessing them was making you feel even worse.

Your eyes shifted to the one who hadn't talked once the entire time, and the first thing you noticed was his pink hair. Well, that was a new shade of colour you had yet to see. He wore green glasses and antennas on his head. He was the only one who looked marginally attractive, a thought you shoved down the minute you registered it. You wondered how he had managed to get past uniform inspection.

The boy with pink hair was the one who looked the most shocked to see you, his face paling at the sight of you kneeling on the nurse's bed. It was because he hadn't been able to detect you with his powers, a fact still unbeknownst to you.

They continued to stare at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, still holding your icepack against your forehead. "Can you please keep it down? I'm trying to rest—" You didn't get a chance to finish what you were saying, falling silent as you noticed the teacher who rescued you from before standing at the entrance of the nurse's office with a hand on the wall. Said wall cracked as his hold tightened around it, the veins on his forehead popping out in anger.

"I heard it all!" You watched the concrete of the wall around his palm crumble slightly as he shouted, debris falling to the floor. "Matsuzaki!" The green-haired boy spoke first, shocked to see the teacher standing at the door. At least you knew the name of your saviour. "So your fainting was a con job, huh?" The teacher truly was a force to be reckoned with; he looked scary as he— wait, was he growing in size? He nearly towered over the green-haired boy in front of him.

"That's not what happened, sir! It's his fault. He forced me to collapse so he could skip out on the principal's speech, and my sickness is actually a ruse!" The green-haired boy pointed a finger at Nendou before bursting into tears as he cried into his arm. Matsuzaki put a hand on the boy's shoulder to console him before he furiously turned to Nendou.

You watched the scene unfold with a blank face. You should've just pretended to be asleep— maybe then you wouldn't have been subjected to witness such an exchange take place. Was it too late to get back into the bed and pull the covers over yourself? Yes, yes it was.

"Nendou, is that all true?!" So, you were right, that was his name! At least your observation skills weren't failing short because of the migraine. It wasn't his fault, but the green-haired boy had done a pretty good job at acting like it was. He had expertly made up lies to avoid getting into trouble, letting Nendou take the fall for him instead.

Nendou didn't even get a chance to retaliate as Matsuzaki took notice of the pink-haired boy to his right. "Huh? Saiki, what are you doing here?" Come to think of it, you found it weird that the guy had yet to say a word. Was he mute? So, Saiki was his name. The one with antennas only acknowledged Matsuzaki but didn't open his mouth to speak.

Of course, Saiki did reply, but he did so telepathically. Your immunity to the supernatural, without you knowing it, blocked out his ability, which is why you thought he hadn't said anything, even though he had been talking to the others since the moment he had entered the nurse's office.

"Takahashi, is he also a part of this?" Matsuzaki asked the green-haired boy, who you now knew to call Takahashi. Matsuzaki pointed a finger at Saiki, looking at fish lips with an expectant gaze. Takahashi stopped crying abruptly, lowering his arm slightly as he opened his mouth to answer. "Who? Yeah, sure." How was the teacher believing these lies?! You had to question his credibility. You watched Saiki's expression darken at the accusation. This whole situation was getting more and more absurd.

"That's it! I want you both in my office!" How had the teacher, of all people, not realised that Takahashi was faking this entire thing and making up elaborate lies to avoid getting into trouble? And why was the whole exchange going so fast?

At this rate, you were going to get whiplash with how quickly you were looking between the four. At least your headache had died down slightly, just enough for you to think clearly. So long as you didn't get dragged into this whole mess, you'd be just fine. Hah, you wanted to leave.

"Hold on a sec, teach. His feigning is real. Didn't you hear him just say it? Root sickness." Nendou said it so ominously— you nearly believed him. That lasted for a second until you gazed up at the boy in sheer disbelief. Was it possible to be this idiotic? How could someone even be capable of mistaking ruse for roots?

You weren't the only one who thought so, as the other three in the room looked at Nendou in shock and awe. You were sure they felt the same— Nendou was... slow, to say the least. "What? Isn't that right?" Nendou was confident he was correct and— were those stars dancing around him... and, why was he drooling? You would laugh, but you were still trying to process whatever just took place.

"What in the holy heck? What's root sickness— root sickness is a deadly virus that infects the victim through the follicles. Ohh, that one." Halfway through Matsuzaki trying to understand why Nendou brought up such an illness, he started to think out loud before coming to the conclusion that Nendou was right.

Ah.

This whole situation was outrageous! How had you managed to witness such incompetency from a teacher? At least he was reliable in the sense that he cared. You couldn't think too badly of Matsuzaki as he was the one who had gone through the trouble of bringing you to the nurse's office when you fell. He was still as gullible as they come, though.

"Let's take your temperature to see if you have a fever. That's what my mom does for me." Could you leave yet? No one would say anything if you just walked out, right? You weren't too keen on taking a risk, so you decided to stay put for the time being and hope your existence would be background noise. "Are you a new student?" You spoke too soon, Matsuzaki had noticed you.

You stood up from your seat on the bed, staggering slightly as you felt black spots cloud your vision. Maybe getting up abruptly wasn't a good idea. You sighed, wondering what had become of your luck, "Yes, I'm new. This is my first day here." Matsuzaki took note of your confirmation, nodding to himself as he put a hand to his chin. "Do you have root sickness too?"

Not this root sickness talk again— of course you didn't because a disease like that didn't exist. There was no known medical condition dubbed 'root sickness', to begin with. Good luck convincing Matsuzaki of that fact, though. You shook your head, no. "I have a headache, not a fever. I'll be fine if I get some rest." Were you the only one who saw reason in this room? Probably. You did know one thing, and that was that you weren't going to be fooled into believing that you had a made-up illness; you just felt nauseous.

Though the feeling had dimmed, you still wanted to go home to recover. "Is it alright if I take sick leave today? I don't think I'm well enough to stay here." Matsuzaki agreed, muttering how he'd let your homeroom teacher know since he'd already seen you fall like a sack of potatoes near the school's front gates. You exhaled in relief at that, deciding then that you liked this teacher; after all— he was cool.

Matsuzaki then proceeded to get a thermometer from one of the drawers in the room to check Takahashi's temperature. All the while, the boy in question sat at a bench in the corner of the room with one sleeve of his uniform jacket taken off. He was sweating profusely, no doubt because he had been faking this entire time and was about to be caught. Serves him right, you thought to yourself, Takahashi had dug his own grave. Was now a good time to ask for directions?

"98.2 Celcius... Go call an ambulance now!" You quickly turned on your feet to look at Matsuzaki. How was that possible?! That was 40 Celcius too high! The average body temperature for a human was 37! You wondered if Takahashi really did have root sickness. You quickly got rid of the thought, that wasn't possible. Maybe he just had a high fever? No, that didn't make sense either. You let the thought go when you felt your headache return with vengeance.

The ambulance came in record time, with EMTs carrying Takahashi out on a gurney to be loaded into the van with Nendou shouting words of encouragement after him. You watched from the window in the nurse's office, shaking your head. Today had been a disaster. You decided you had had enough of this school for now, turning on your heel so you could head home.

The only other person in the room besides you was Saiki. Surely, he would know the way out of this place, right? You weren't familiar with the layout and didn't feel like getting lost trying to find the main entrance. There was no harm in asking, so why not?

"Do you know how I can get out of here? I'm not sure how since I'm new." Saiki turned to you, his blank face, which was devoid of all emotion, making it hard to read him. This entire time not once had you seen a significant change in his expression. Was he even human?

Silence followed, and the man had the nerve to raise an eyebrow at you. You mirrored his expression, leaning your head forward ever so slightly, expecting an answer. "Hello? Do you know where the main entrance is?" You didn't miss the look of shock that crossed his face. Had Saiki actually been mute like you first assumed? Oh no, how insensitive of you!

Before you could splutter out an apology, he opened his mouth to speak. "First stairs to your left. If you take them all the way down to the ground floor, you'll reach the shoe lockers. That's the way out." You weren't sure what you expected him to sound like, but it certainly wasn't that. Honey— that was the only word that came to mind when you thought of how to describe it. Rich, and smooth, not too deep, but very appealing. You decided you liked the sound of his voice, if nothing else.

You nodded your head, thanking him before you made your move to leave the room. It hadn't even been an hour since you had come to PK Academy, and still, everything had gone downhill the moment you stepped through those blasted gates. You rubbed at your forehead in mild frustration, already missing the icepack you had left in the nurse's office.

Nendou passed you in the hall, moving to walk into the room you had just emerged from. You turned, curious as to why he was going back and that was your downfall. You peeked into the room, and that's when you saw it. Past Nendou's form, which was slightly obstructing your vision, stood Saiki with a thermometer in hand. The same one Matsuzaki had used on Takahashi.

Out of nowhere, it caught on fire in Saiki's palm, and the guy had the nerve to casually crush it in his hand as if the heat didn't affect him. Your body moved before you could think, and you turned to hide. The wall next to the door to the office was enough to keep you from being spotted.

You took note of your heart speeding up in your chest, feeling as though you had seen something you shouldn't have. It hadn't been an illusion. What you had witnessed was not as your imagination. Saiki had set the thermometer on fire with his mind! There was no other explanation. He could use pyrokinesis, the ability to manipulate heat.

This whole situation and the events that took place had set you on edge. Normally, you would have let curiosity get the better of you, which would have led you to confront Saiki about what you had seen, but this time it was different— as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, and you decided this time satisfaction might not be enough to bring it back. Though you weren't a stranger to the supernatural, you had no interest in becoming 'buddy-buddy' with Saiki or even talking to him in the future, for that matter.

You were already surrounded by strange occurrences, and adding to the list of people you knew who could do things others couldn't, didn't sound appealing at all. Better to just leave it. The last thing you wanted was to get involved with someone like him.

Chances were, you wouldn't run into Saiki. The school was big, and there was no way you would be so unlucky as to end up in the same class as him. With that, you began to walk, following the directions you had received earlier so you could get to the main entrance of the school building.

That was how your first meeting with Saiki Kusuo had gone.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

You had to have the worst luck on earth— surely, you did something to throw your karma out of balance because there was no other way of explaining your predicament. Fate, maybe? Everything happens for a reason, after all. Once you attended your classes for the first time, you discovered you were, in fact, in the same class as the pyrokinetic boy from the day before.

You sighed as you laid down on your bed, resting your eyes as you willed yourself to change out of your uniform. You took the time to think back to the events of the past few days.

Your first official day at PK Academy had been just as eventful as the day you went home early. When you entered the class, the first person who caught your attention was the pink-haired boy with antennas, Saiki.

You had frozen mid-step as soon as you realised you were in the same class as him. What had snapped you out of your thoughts was the home-room teacher announcing that you were the new transfer student. After introducing yourself, you took a seat, coincidentally ending up right behind the person you wanted to avoid most.

The school day went on, and you tried to make the best of your situation. Just because you were in the same class didn’t mean you would interact with each other. Saiki didn’t look like the talkative type either. The rest of the morning was spent trying to calm your nerves.

It was reasonably quiet until the first break.

As soon as the teacher left, you pulled out your phone and plugged in your earphones to tune the world out. You had ignored everyone around you, grateful for the fact that no one had come to bother your peace. Quietly sitting at your desk, you decided to do homework because you had time and knew you wouldn’t do it when you got home.

That was until the class started discussing a snake on the loose after it escaped the zoo, and you overheard. Shame on you for not increasing the volume from the start. A student with light blue hair spoke up immediately, claiming that an evil organisation called 'Dark Reunion’ was behind it.

Ah, you had heard of this before, an awful condition where an individual was convinced they had otherwordly powers, like a girl from your last school who claimed she saw ghosts. Then again, who were you to judge when you were probably every bit as delusional as he was? Was it bad that you thought you could take that snake down with ease? Yes, yes, it was.

You couldn’t bring yourself to listen in closely as he went on with his fantasies. Situations like that usually didn’t end well— and you had been correct. Your classmates had made fun of the strange boy until he left the room when they found out the snake was ordinary and a bunch of 4-year-olds had killed it, his voice trembling as he declared that he had tried to warn them. Your guess was that he was going to the bathroom to cry. Wow, high school kids were ruthless.

Saiki left shortly after, to your relief, and that was when all hell broke loose. The class broke out into screams. When you realised it was over a snake that had somehow gotten into the room, you quickly jumped on top of your desk, accidentally pushing off your books and pens in your haste.

The class collectively lost their minds. The students had exclaimed that someone should get the teacher, but no one moved to do so as the snake blocked the door. Nendou, the one from the nurse’s office who was also in your class, appeared out of nowhere and started to make fun of everyone for being scared. You weren’t concerned with his smack talk, too busy staring at his crotch and not for the conventional reason. The snake had latched itself onto Nendou’s family jewels. Poor guy.

Long story short, Nendou got bitten in the balls by the reptile and proceeded to pass out on the floor. The light blue-haired boy from before with the 'Chuunibyu Complex’ returned and tried to protect the class from the snake, willingly putting himself in danger when the snake launched itself at a girl whose face you probably wouldn’t remember in a week. What a sweetheart— with that, you sent Kaidou your blessings, convinced that he was going to meet his end.

Your first official day, and there was already gonna be a death. What had you done to ask for this? Then it happened, he yelled 'Judgement Knights of Thunder!’ and then there was light— well, lightning. It appeared mysteriously, and music seemingly started playing out of nowhere. 'JUDGMENT KNIGHTS OF— JUDGMENT KNIGHTS OF THUNDER!’

For a second, you had wondered if the author was breaking the fourth wall to talk to you. Had your time finally come? Had the day arrived when a divine power would smite you off this mortal coil? That didn’t seem to be the case— no, it was just Kaidou’s theme song playing.

Even after coming home from school, you had yet to get the tune out of your head. What could you say? The song was catchy.

You had figured that Kaidou also had otherwordly abilities. That meant he had been telling the truth when he claimed to have special powers. A pyrokinetic user and a guy who could control lightning, both of them were in your class. What were the chances?

That wasn’t the only thing you had observed. When you went to town to pick up new stationery, you spotted Saiki. It was a mere coincidence that he and you were in the same place, at the same time, seemingly heading in the same direction.

You had silently walked behind him, praying to yourself that he wouldn’t turn around and notice you. You hadn’t actively been trying to follow him, so why did you feel like you were some type of stalker?

What snapped you out of your thoughts was a girl with navy blue hair crossing the street to say hi to the man before you. Were they familiar with each other? Mid-squint, you realised that the girl was also a classmate of yours.

Kokori was it? Koko— Ah, yes, Kokomi Teruhashi. She was quite popular among the boys in your school for her beauty. Personally, you had thought it was overrated. Perfect was boring. Not to mention, you got the feeling that she was somewhat narcissistic.

Having people compliment her and practically drool all over her would surely get to her head, right? Then you shoved the thought down automatically because it was merely conjecture, and who were you to judge? Assumptions were assumptions and just that at the end of the day. You did wonder for a moment if your immunity worked against her beauty, too.

You stopped when Saiki did, as Teruhashi moved to stand in front of him to greet him, and you went into full panic mode. You hadn’t been keen on walking past him, so you had stayed in place. Critical thinking saved you, and you pulled out your phone to make it look like you were checking something, all the while dying of embarrassment because of how awkward you probably looked.

When you imagined yourself from a bird's eye view, just standing there, you prayed a natural disaster would come and save you from this humiliation. What followed shocked you, all thoughts of mortification thrown out the window at what took place. Out of your peripherals, Saiki had bowed before continuing to walk.

You had been just as baffled as Teruhashi, the girl in question still frozen in place. Why did he avoid her? You couldn’t help but wonder. Any other boy would have melted at the sight of her. Was he gay? Was he in love with someone else? You continued walking when Saiki started to move again, watching as Teruhashi chased after him. It got to the point where he stopped acknowledging her in general.

You wished you could turn around and walk the other way, but you had to get home! Why today of all days? Your life was never this eventful before. All you could do was watch on as Teruhashi called after him, to no avail. She had resorted to a different method after that, reaching out to grab him forcefully, only for Saiki to dodge her expertly every time. Did he have eyes at the back of his head or something? You deserved a pat on the back for not laughing once during the whole exchange.

When Saiki entered the crowd, Teruhashi tried to follow him. It proved to be fruitless, as he seemingly disappeared. That wiped the grin off your face, and you stopped dead in your tracks.

Saiki had teleported; there was no doubt about it. Your eyes were on him, and then he vanished. It was no trick of the light, you knew for sure as you watched the debris settle from where Saiki had just been moments earlier. That had sent you down a spiral. You had known then that he had more than one power. He didn’t just have the ability of Pyrokeneiss; he could also teleport. Just how powerful was he?

You kept an eye out for Saiki after that, quietly observing him to see if he had any other abilities.

When the boys were playing dodgeball in P.E., you were in Home Ec, trying to make cupcakes. You had used the better half of the lesson watching Saiki play, nearly burning what you had been baking because of your preoccupied thoughts. After being lectured, you spent the rest of the lesson in the back, ducking to escape the glares sent your way by the teacher.

What had caught your eye was him throwing a ball lightly at the dodgeball cart, only for the whole thing to be destroyed entirely. Your jaw had practically dropped to the floor at the sight, cupcakes all but forgotten in the oven 5 minutes too long as you gawked at his retreating form. If you hadn’t been watching Saiki, you would have assumed it was a meteor that had hit it. He had superhuman strength, too?

It also struck you as odd that anytime the teacher called on him to answer, he would stay silent. Then, the teacher would tell Saiki that he was correct, as if the man in question had replied. Could he also control minds and manipulate them or something? What the hell was happening?

The more you watched him, the more you were convinced that he was an extremely dangerous individual. You had concluded that your decision not to get involved with him had been a good one— you should have stayed put at your last school; coming to PK Academy had been a bad idea.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

The days rolled by until Friday came around, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for having succeeded in avoiding Saiki. You had gotten through your first week without garnering any unwanted attention— too bad no one was around to give you a gold star.

You sat at your desk, drinking from a can of cold coffee you had retrieved from a vending machine, as you half-heartedly listened to the rest of the class prattle on about romance. Did they have nothing better to talk about during their break? Personally, you believed they were all way too young and immature to be in relationships, you included. Then again, you were probably the most mature one there since, technically, your mental age was 3 years more or however many times the year had turned back.

Just listening to them gave you a headache. You shifted your attention, looking up to stare at the back of Saiki’s head. You had noticed that, for the most part, he was alone during the day, save for when Nendou and Kaidou— the light blue-haired boy who struck lightning, would come to talk to him.

You lightly shook your head when you realised your mistake; why were you even thinking about Saiki? You sighed inwardly, clearing your mind before turning to your right to look at the track field past the classroom window. You were bored— terribly bored, if your restless legs were anything to go by. You took the time to relish in the sun’s warmth beating down on your face, closing your eyes to enjoy the moment.

After a while, you faced forward again, your eyes scanning the room. That was when your gaze landed on the girl next to Saiki. If memory served you correctly from when the teacher did roll call that morning, her name was Chiyo Yumehara.

Yumehara was plain-looking for the most part and didn’t really stand out. She had rust-coloured hair at chin length and a simple headband with a bow on top of her head. What had caught your eye, however, wasn’t the girl herself— but the textbook she was doodling in. On closer inspection, you realised she was drawing Saiki. Once you leaned left, hands clasping the sides of your desk so you wouldn’t fall, you finally got a good look. Your face distorted in horror and despair at the crude reimagination of Saiki as some generic princely shoujo manga male lead.

You could assume one thing for sure, Yumehara definitely had a crush on Saiki. Why else would she take the time to sketch his face?

You continued to agonise over how she had drawn Saiki. He looked all mushy, not sharp and rough like he normally appeared. Truly ugly, in your opinion, since Saiki was closer to the 'cold, quiet’ type rather than the 'prince’. Her version of him had tame hair, sparkling eyes, and a soft expression.

How had she strayed so far from the original source material when he was less than a metre away from her? Saiki had unruly hair, blank eyes and sharp eyebrows that made his expression somewhat harsher.

Hold on— why were you paying that much attention to him to begin with? You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you looked back down at your desk to continue completing your homework. You decided then that though you had learnt something new by observing, you wouldn’t get involved. Nothing good would come of it, you were sure.

However, remaining unaffiliated proved to be a challenge.

Walking the halls of your school as you tried to navigate your way to the nurse’s office so you could get a bandage was difficult. Despite having been to the room already, you still didn’t know how to get there by yourself.

You had managed to cut yourself when turning the page of a textbook in class earlier. The pain was tremendous, even though the injury was minor one. You inspected the paper cut on your index finger, squeezing below the wound to see if blood would come out. It did. So you had no choice but to get up and roam the halls to find a plaster lest you stain your books with red.

You sighed in mild frustration, looking around, trying to spot someone you could ask to guide you to where you needed to go. That’s when you caught sight of Yumehara, who looked like she was peering around the corner, waiting for someone. With a nod to yourself, you began to stride up to her confidently.

You faltered three steps in when Yumehara started to giggle to herself. You didn’t feel so bold anymore; the sound coming from her lips kind of freaked you out. Why was she laughing? She was completely alone, too. She looked like a pervert… was homegirl okay?

Despite hesitating, you knew it was too late to turn around and back out, so you settled on walking up to her anyway. You got close enough so that she could hear you before you spoke up. “Hey— uh, Yumehara?” She wouldn’t be creeped out that you already knew her name, right?

Yumehara nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of your voice. She turned around with a startled gasp, bringing up a hand to clutch at her chest. It was then that you noticed she was holding a bunch of papers. She was most likely going to drop them off somewhere for a teacher. Had you stalled her from getting to where she needed to be? …Oh, well, it's not like she had some time limit; class wasn't due to start for the next 10 minutes.

“Mind showing me the way to the nurse’s office? I don’t know where it is— since I’m new and all.” You unconsciously raised an eyebrow at the look of disdain that crossed Yumehara’s face, like she went poking in her ear and you were the earwax she pulled out.

Hey, hey, hey! That was no way to act around someone who was in need. No matter, you’d pretend that she didn’t just give you a dirty look— you did require her assistance to find the nurse’s office after all. A beat of silence passed before she finally responded.

“…Oh. Uhh— sure, I’ll help you.” At least Yumehara didn’t outright refuse you. Guess she wasn’t as heartless as to tell you to look for someone else to help you with directions. You decided it was worthwhile to give her a smile of gratitude. “Thanks. I have a nasty paper cut, and I need a plaster.”

Then came the feeling of dread when Saiki rounded the corner. You froze, and for a moment, it felt as though your soul had left your body. 'Ah.’ Your lips slowly parted into a grimace. Your mind ran at a million miles per hour. Yumehara was trying to get alone with Saiki, wasn’t she? Had you ruined her plans? Had he noticed? The last thing you wanted was for Saiki to pay attention to you. He was dangerous. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad!

You inhaled, then exhaled, telling yourself to calm down. There was no way Saiki could have predicted that Yumehara was trying to bump into him just so she could have a reason to interact with him, right? That meant you were in the clear— there was no reason for you to be worried.

Yumehara watched as Saiki strolled past quietly, gazing after him with longing and disappointment. She sighed, clutching the papers in her arms closer to her chest as she signalled for you to follow her. At your success in not garnering Saiki’s attention, behind Yumehara, you pumped your fist in the air.

What you failed to notice was Saiki watching you do so. You trailed behind Yumehara with a slight skip to your step, completely oblivious.

'L/n… that’s her name, right? She did that on purpose, didn’t she? But why? ...Don’t tell me she has a crush on me, too. What a pain.’

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Somehow, for the rest of the day, you unintentionally found yourself spoiling every part of Yumehara’s plan to get closer to Saiki.

When Yumehara dropped her pink handkerchief on the floor, you had retrieved it for her. You had noticed it fall, and like the good samaritan you were, you decided to give it back to her. What better way to pass the time on your break than collecting brownie points with her after you spoiled her first plan?

Pushing your chair back, you walked behind Yumehara and knelt so that you could pick it up for her. You unconsciously placed a hand on the metal stand that held up the desk next to you, which happened to be Saiki’s, so you wouldn’t fall.

You didn’t notice how she giggled and hummed to herself as she skipped away, too focused on doing a good deed. “Hey, Yumehara— is this yours?” You held up the pastel pink handkerchief and observed it in your hand as she turned around, her expression dropping as she realised it was you who had stopped her. Well, that wasn’t the look you expected to be greeted with when you helped her.

Then realisation hit you as she looked over your shoulder, and you followed her gaze to realise Saiki was right there behind you. Oh… You’d done it twice now. You had gotten in Yumehara’s way again, hadn’t you? And there you were thinking, it was weird when she dropped the handkerchief so aggressively. Ah— she had thrown it.

Had she done it on purpose… solely to get Saiki’s attention? It wasn’t a bad idea and probably would have worked had you not intervened. Saiki would have picked it up or helped her look for it if she asked. He wouldn’t have. You had ruined her chance. Again. Oh, for the love of—

You wanted to ram your head through the nearest wall. Even though you planned not to get involved, you still managed to get in the middle of Yumehara’s budding romance, and you only had yourself to blame.

The girl in question hurried over to you and snatched the handkerchief from your hand before she dramatically ran out of the classroom, clearly upset and somewhat embarrassed. Damn. The least you could do was apologise and say you were sorry after what you had done. “Geez, all I did was pick it up. Hey! We have class in three minutes! Yumehara, wait!” With that, you ran after her.

After you managed to chase her down, you apologised to Yumehara with a cold drink you bought from the vending machine. She didn’t seem too annoyed after that. You inwardly apologised to the girl for ruining her plans not once but twice— saying it out loud would only cause her embarrassment. With how covert she was being, she probably wouldn’t appreciate you rubbing salt into her wounds by bringing up her failed attempt at trying to play Cupid.

As your luck would have it, the rest of the day went by with you stopping Yumehara from getting close to Saiki at every turn— without even trying.

You picked up the ball in P.E. when it rolled over to Saiki’s direction, thinking you were being nice, only to realise later that Yumehara had purposely thrown it that far.

You opened the door to the staff room when Yumehara had too many books in her hands to do it herself. She had hoped Saiki would help her since he was nearby, but you had come to the rescue instead— your efforts were not appreciated.

You offered to help finish the extra cookies she made in Home Ec, successfully stopping her from going to find Saiki. All the while, you had done everything unconsciously, only realising your mistake afterwards. What a disaster.

The last lesson for the day came, and you rolled your neck from side to side, your mental exhaustion palpable. How had you stopped Yumehara’s plans every single time? Why did you have to be around whenever she decided to put her plan into motion?

You hoped she didn’t hate you. Or worse, think you were deliberately trying to stop her because you wanted Saiki all to yourself, which was the furthest from the truth anyone could get. Then again, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were the reason she started her Villain Arc and made you her first target. At least the woman had the patience of a saint; you had no idea how she hadn’t asked to take it outside yet.

You yawned into the back of your hand, waiting for the day to end, eyes trailing to the classroom window when the sound of rain filtered into your ears. There was a downpour.

Despite the weather being sunny in the morning, the clouds had turned grey, and the temperature had dropped significantly. You placed your head on the desk, its surface cool against the side of your face. Shivering at the sensation, you stretched your arms across the table before crossing them to completely hide your face.

The weather managed to affect your mood, making you feel drowsy as you tried to preserve warmth. At least there wasn’t long left till home time. You had nearly fallen asleep during the last period of the day, and thankfully, the teacher never commented.

When the bell rang, signalling that the school day was over, you rubbed the slumber from your eyes. You hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, so you would either have to ask someone to share with you or use your bag as a shield against the drizzle.

You quickly packed up your things so you could hurry to the entrance, hoping you could catch someone to walk halfway home with. Grabbing your bag and placing its strap on your shoulder, you rushed to the shoe lockers. That’s when you caught sight of Yumehara.

She was standing just before the steps outside, the glass door between the two of you. She didn’t have an umbrella either. If you had to guess, she must have forgotten it at home like you did. Slipping your outdoor shoes on with one hand, you walked over to the entrance of the building and stepped through it.

You decided to wait beside her, hoping you’d get lucky and someone would offer to share an umbrella with you. “You forgot your umbrella, too?” You turned to Yumehara, who spoke first. “Huh? Oh— Yeah. I didn’t think it would rain today.” You looked up at the sky. Wow, this was awkward; you had no idea how to keep the conversation going.

The clouds were still grey, and the rain didn’t look like it was going to let up anytime soon. You breathed in the fresh air; the earthy smell accompanying the weather was always your favourite. Besides the part where you would get wet, you absolutely adored the rain.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, letting the soft patter of the falling water lull you into a sense of calm. You pulled out your phone to check the time. It didn’t look like anyone would offer to share an umbrella with you any time soon. “At this rate, we’re gonna have to walk home by ourselv—”

Before you could finish voicing your thoughts, miraculously, the clouds cleared, and the weather improved. You gaped up at the sun that had appeared out of nowhere. No matter how you looked at it, this turn of events was anything but normal. Was it Saiki?

You quickly shoved down the first thought that came to mind, moving away from the shade the school building provided as you started walking to the main gate. There was no way he was that powerful. Even humans had their limitations, and you couldn’t possibly have been so unlucky as to become classmates with someone with such extraordinary abilities.

You began to make your way home, and before long, you realised unusual things were happening around you. Right before you were about to get run over by a car, the vehicle seemingly defied all laws of psychics and flew over your head before driving off normally.

Then, when a biker nearly crashed into you, it somehow changed directions and swerved to the right, alarmingly close to driving onto the main road. That wasn’t normal, right? You weren’t going insane, were you? When someone bumped into you, causing you to lose your balance, you found that you were standing upright— like you didn’t nearly trip face-first onto the pavement.

What the hell was going on? Was it some long-forgotten ancestor who had taken pity on you? Or was the author apologising for the tremendous amount of bad luck they gave you?

As you looked around to make sense of things, you noticed Saiki. The bane of your existence. How was he everywhere? His pink hair made him easy to notice, even if he was trying to blend in with the crowd. Had he… had he saved you? Wait, that meant— he could use telekinesis?! You had to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. You could not let on that you knew of his powers.

You turned around, preparing to sprint, your grip on the shoulder strap of your bag tightening. “Who sent you?” At the sound of Saiki’s voice filling your ears, your stomach practically dropped to your feet, tensing when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Why did you feel like you were in some sort of thriller movie?

The last thing you wanted to do was look behind you. In the film industry, that was as good as sealing your fate. Death was looming over your shoulder, and damn it all because you did not want to be the first one to die. Maybe if you pretended that you couldn’t hear— “I know you heard me.” You winced. This was not good. Sirens were going off in your head. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

You swore under your breath as you turned around to face the man. You didn't have much of a choice; you’d have to play dumb. “Hm? Oh! Saiki, right? What do you mean by that? I’m just a normal high school student.” You gave Saiki a strained smile. You weren’t lying; you weren’t anyone special save for your immunity to the supernatural.

Huh— was it just you, or was he prettier up close? You shunned the thoughts running through your head; now was not the time! Saiki narrowed his eyes, the suspicion in them clear as day. “Who are you?” Now, you were confused. Did he think you were a spy or something? Had no one else noticed his powers like you had? He wasn’t exactly careful about using them since they had caught your attention early on.

“I— uh, I’m l/n. Your classmate. I sit behind you?” Saiki furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly, clenching his jaw. There was silence for a moment, and you wondered if that meant you could leave. “Follow me." You hesitated, unsure what to do, as he swiftly turned on his heel to walk away. He paused when he realised you weren't following, looking at you over his shoulder. "Come on.” He wasn’t going to give up, was he?

The seed of doubt had already been planted, and there was no getting rid of it now. You wouldn’t be able to bluff your way out of this one. Maybe confronting him would be better? That way, you wouldn’t have to worry about avoiding him all the time. You fast-walked to close the distance between you and him.

For the entirety of the journey, you wondered where he was taking you. You prayed to whichever higher power was willing to listen that he wouldn’t murder you. From what you had seen, he could easily do so.

“Where are we?” You stopped in front of the house before you. You guessed it must be his house, but asking to make sure was always a good thing. “This is my home.” Oh, boy. You knew one thing for sure; you definitely weren’t prepared for this.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

For a psychic, Saiki’s room was more average than you expected it to be. There was a desk, a bed and a TV. Other amenities, such as the wardrobe built into the wall, a bookshelf and a small planted tree for decor, were also in plain sight. The bedroom of a typical high school teenager.

It was… weird. From what you could tell, Saiki was an esper, so you assumed he would have an extravagant room, at least. That meant that he didn’t use his powers for the wrong things. So you could safely assume he wouldn’t kill you in cold blood, right?

Saiki wouldn’t murder you, would he? He wouldn’t be so careless as to slaughter his classmate in his own house. That would make him the lead suspect in your homicide, right?

His mum knew you were here too, so he wouldn’t use violence to subdue you, no? You hoped so. Mrs Saiki had been cooking when you came in. Saiki didn’t let you see each other but she seemed like the sweetest woman by the way she greeted him, so naturally— her son would have inherited some of her personality traits, right? You wanted to leave already. Being alone with him was hurting your peace of mind— why couldn't he do this in front of his mother?

“I’ll ask again. Who are you?” While Saiki had parked himself on the chair facing away from his desk, looking at you sceptically as he sat like he owned the place (which he did), you chose to stand across from him. Damn, this was awkward. Why had he brought you here again? “I told you, I’m just a classmate.”

You hoped your answer would be enough to appease him. You thought wrong. "…Why can’t I figure you out?“ You raised an eyebrow at that. It didn’t seem as though he was asking you; more like he was talking out loud. Then again, he did deliberately voice his question, so that meant you could pry. "I’m sorry?”

“I can’t read your thoughts. Why is that? Are you stupid? Or did someone send you?” He was blunt, huh? Did he have no manners? Assuming that you were a moron… was kind of mean. You were somewhat offended. Wait— he said he couldn’t read your thoughts. Did that mean he could use telepathy as well?

“Ah… You also have telepathy?” It would explain a lot, like how he could reply to others even though it looked like he was staying silent— but wrapping your head around the fact that he had that many powers was almost impossible. Truly mindboggling. Your brain was hurting.

“Also?” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you. Saiki looked at you expectantly, leaning back in his chair as he waited for you to elaborate. Cursing yourself inwardly for not thinking before you spoke, you found interest in the pens on his desk. The cat was out of the bag, so there was no point in trying to hide it. “I might have seen you use your powers. Uh, pyrokinesis, telekenisis and… superhuman strength?”

Silence followed after you spoke, and you stared down at your feet. “I have to get rid of you.” Your head snapped up to look at Saiki, your eyes widening. You gaped at him, your mind running a million miles per hour.

You were right! He was going to murder you! Oh, no, no, no! You still had so many things you wanted to cross off your bucket list— so many sights you had yet to see! This could not be happening!

“Wait, wait, wait— that— that’s too far, man! I have a family— kids, I have kids!” It was true that humans would spout nonsense when faced with imminent death, and you were living proof of it. You winced at the words that were coming out of your mouth.

No, you did not have children, but you would say anything if it meant staying alive. Your lips trembled as you gazed at Saiki with pleading eyes. You didn’t want to die! Not like this!

“Don’t lie. I know for a fact that you don’t.” Saiki shot you an unamused look as he stared you down. You broke out into a cold sweat. What the hell were you going to do now? Only one thing came to mind. “Please! Spare me! I’ll do anything!” You got onto your knees as you begged with your hands clasped together.

Your dignity went straight out the window, and you couldn’t care. You would shamelessly plead for your life if it meant he wouldn’t kill you. “Start by telling me why I can’t read your thoughts and who sent you.”

So, he wouldn’t kill you if you told him the truth? Fine, that was a small price to pay. You’d rat out your own flesh and blood if it meant he would leave you be. You were heartless like that— oh well, survival of the fittest, as they say. You looked up in hope at the man before you for throwing you a lifeline. You could still get out of this unscathed!

“No one! Damn it! I already told you, I’m just a regular high school student… and the thing with the mind-reading— I guess you could say I’m immune.” If anyone walked into the room, they would most likely assume that you were doing something not so family-friendly, but it wasn't like you could move.

Get your mind out of the gutter! You internally cursed at yourself for having thought such a thing. It was too late to get up now; you’d have to stay on your knees. Besides, you didn’t know if you were in the clear yet or not, so you’d remain in place until you were sure. You just hoped Mrs Saiki was the type of parent who wouldn’t walk through the door unannounced; you still had some decency worth saving.

“Immune?” Saiki leaned forward in his chair, showing a slight interest in your words. He tilted his head to the side as he studied you. “Yes. To everything supernatural. Naturally, that means all of your powers don’t work on me.”

Once you were finished with your brief explanation, Saiki brought a hand up to his chin. “…So that’s why… Tell me, have you noticed anything weird with the world?” Saiki moved his gaze from the ceiling down to you as he gave you a blank stare. You looked elsewhere to gather your thoughts. There were so many things you could think of, off the top of your head.

“Uh… Yeah? Do you mean the weird hair colours? The quick healing? Oh, and the chop to the neck can knock someone out. There’s the fact that skinny people can be super strong and how clothes can get ripped off of someone, but their hoo-ha’s are still covered. The worst of it all is the year keeps repeating itself. Did you notice that, too?” You used your fingers to list everything weird thing you’ve noticed before you turned to Saiki.

Finally! Someone who understood your struggles, you'd been graced with an ally with whom you could share your troubles. Silence followed, and your natural response was to overthink. Saiki didn’t speak for a moment, leaving you wondering what you said wrong. “How… How is that possible?” You perked up at his words before looking at him sceptically. “What do you mean?”

“None of my powers work on you. Not even mind control… The weird things around you were all caused by me.”

The air was stagnant; not a single word was exchanged as his words sank in. Then, your jaw nearly fell to the floor at Saiki’s revelation. He did all that? How on earth did he have the ability to pull all that off? Take the crazy hair colours for example— if he was the cause of it, then he had managed to alter human biology down to the genetic level.

Wasn’t this the part where your fight-or-flight response was supposed to kick in? Of course, your body would choose the 'freeze’ option. Staying still wasn’t helping your current mental state. The fact that Saiki had enough power to destroy the world, with just his mind if he wanted to, terrified you. The man before you was the most dangerous human to exist on earth to date. No living creature should be allowed to possess such abilities.

“Huh?! It was— It was you? This entire time? You— What the hell?! …Are you— are you even human?” Your mind reeled, and you struggled to form coherent sentences. Was Saiki the reason you had such a bad headache that you nearly collapsed on your first day at PK Academy? It made sense. Had you gotten used to his powers, then? Was that why you were able to be near him now?

“I’m just a regular high school student.” You looked at Saiki in sheer disbelief and doubt. He was anything but a normal person. He was definitely the most potent psychic you had ever met. You shook your head at his statement. “No, you aren’t. That's— That’s a lie.” You folded your arms over your chest. “I am. If you try telling anyone else otherwise… well.” Saiki brought his hand up before he swiped his thumb across his throat.

The nerve! He was threatening you, and you… you couldn’t even do anything about it! You bit your lip in mild frustration before you sighed. “Y'know what— forget it. Fine, keep your secrets. Just don’t kill me.” There was no other option. You’d have to yield and wave the flag of surrender.

Saiki crossed his legs and placed his hand on his knee, the other on the armrest of his chair. “So, your immunity? Explain it to me.” Why did he have to be so intimidating? Your knees still hurt from sitting on the floor. You’d stay put just in case, though— you didn’t feel like risking your life over a case of sore limbs.

“I'm not sure why, but I've always noticed weird things; I guess I just developed a natural immunity to the supernatural for some reason. The power to nullify other’s abilities when used on me.” You didn't know why you were being this honest. Maybe because your life was on the line? Who knew?

“Can you turn it off?” You halted any movement when your mind finally processed what Saiki said. He couldn’t read your mind; you knew that much, so would lying to him have any repercussions? One look at Saiki’s emotionless face told you that you didn’t want to find out.

You opted to lean back and sit with your legs folded beneath you so your weight would no longer only be on your knees. Damn, you felt like you spent the day working your back at the gym; that was your exercise for the week. You sighed as you looked down at your lap before meeting Saiki’s gaze again. “Er… Do you have to know?” His response was almost immediate, “Yes.”

You internally groaned. Your immunity was your trump card. If you revealed everything, it meant giving up the privacy of every one of your thoughts. You would no longer have the upper hand.

You shook your head; you refused to meet your end here. It was either spill the truth, or it was your funeral. You chose the former. “Well, if I uh— if I put in enough effort, I can turn my immunity off. Would you— um… would you like me to try?” Truly, this was by far the most bizarre encounter you had. You felt like some backwater fanfiction character, stuttering and stumbling over your words.

The silence that followed made you cringe. You couldn’t even distract yourself or break away from your little staring contest with Saiki. It didn’t help that his eyes scared you— like he saw right through you as if he could read you like an open book. It was unnerving. “…Okay.” You didn’t realise that you were holding your breath until he spoke.

You were about to tell him that you needed physical contact to be able to turn your immunity off, and then an idea hit you. It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, and it could get you killed— but if you succeeded, you were sure it’d be worth it.

You weighed the pros and cons before deciding you didn’t care what would happen. Pranking Saiki, if you could even call it that, would not affect him if he was able to predict it with his telepathy. This would be the last time you’d be able to trick Saiki, so why not go for it? You were giving up your ability to think freely, after all. “Let me tell you a story before I turn it off.” You looked up at him with determination.

Saiki was not amused. He stared at you for a moment, then sighed before he relented. “Fine. Hurry up and get it over with.” You weren’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but for a second, it looked like his eyes gleamed with curiosity. You held yourself back from grinning. He was a fool! He’d played right into your hands! You bit your cheek to resist the urge to snicker, lest you give yourself away too much.

Bringing your fist up to your mouth, you proceeded to clear your throat for dramatic effect. “A student trains whilst his master looks on. When the student notices his mentor, he turns to him and enquires what’s wrong. The master replies that his time has come, and he must go.” Saiki looked about as interested as a rock, but from the way he was leaning forward ever so slightly, you could tell he wanted to know more.

You continued, “The student became upset, claiming that he still needed guidance and that he couldn't do it without his teacher. Chuckling, his mentor admits that the student will surpass his teacher in no time, so he no longer needs help.”

You felt pretty good about the fact that you’d roped Saiki in. You decided then that if he chose to hack you to pieces for this, you’d be okay with it. In essence, what you were about to do was equivalent to rickrolling Saiki. “The student denies this and says that his teacher has seen and done everything, so a mere student like himself can’t surpass him.”

You wanted to catch Saiki completely off guard, and you were sure there was no way he’d see it coming. “The teacher says that the student overestimates him. That there are things he has yet to do, sights he has yet to see. The student is now curious, so he asks what his teacher means by 'sights he has yet to see’.”

You could barely keep a straight face, but somehow, you pulled through without laughing at your joke. “The teacher doesn’t have much time left. As he begins to fade away, he says... 'I have never laid my eyes upon two pretty best friends… one of them was always unsightly’.”

You bit your lip, feeling your stomach expand as you held your laugh in until it dawned on him what you were referencing. To rub salt into the wound, you did your best to put on an accent as you continued, “I ain’t ever seen two pretty best friends; it’s always one of 'em gotta be ugly.”

Saiki became visibly distressed as his lips parted in slight disbelief. This was the most expressive you’d seen him all week, and you decided in that moment it was well worth it. “Even now, I can’t escape that godforsaken video… Everywhere I go, someone always has to think of it.”

You couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to. You dissolved into cackles at his reaction, only stopping when Saiki menacingly moved to stand up from his chair. “I may be patient… but I am no saint.” You spluttered, trying to crawl backwards as you looked up at the psychic. “Han— hang on!”

Saiki only stared down at you in mild distaste. "I will cleanse you off this earth.“ You met his gaze with your own incredulous one. "That— That’s not very cash money of you.” Telling him that joke was still worth it. You valued your life, sure, but clearly not enough to practice some self-restraint.

Before Saiki could corner you and do the deed kill you in cold blood, you quickly retaliated. “Hey, wait— wait! If it weren’t for you turning back time every year, I’d be old enough to drive! I wouldn't be slaving away, still trying to pass the same curriculum I know off by heart. Do you have any idea how much you’ve cost me cause you used your abilities?! …Now we’re even.” You huffed once you were finished with your little rant, folding your arms across your chest.

That seemed to do the trick, as Saiki considered your words before taking a seat again on the chair in front of his desk. You raised an eyebrow at his actions. He was easily guilt-tripped, huh? How interesting. As they say, you learn something new every day. That could go in the memory bank for later use.

You put your hand in front of Saiki, palm side up. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Give me your hand.” He looked from you to your hand and then back. His reluctance was clear as day, causing you to exhale through your nose. “Oh, come on! You asked me to show you and turn off my immunity, so give it.” You made 'grabby fingers’ at him, furthering your point. Saiki hesitated for a second before he sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips unconsciously as you waited patiently for Saiki to place his hand in yours. When he did, you shoved down the thoughts that claimed how smooth and warm his hand was. Curse you, your tendency to be a touch-starved heathen and the pretty boy in front of you who was red flags all around. Now was not the time to be distracted!

You regulated your breathing, closing your eyes. 'Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Inhale…’ It didn’t take long for the black that you were used to behind your eyelids to change to an image of Saiki holding your hand. The best way to describe the process was that it was close to an out-of-body experience. All you knew for sure was that you had no control over your actual body.

Despite everything being dark, you could see Saiki and yourself clearly, as if the two of you were illuminated. You turned your gaze downward at where the two of you were connected before observing the man. That’s when you noticed it. Thin strings, thousands— no millions of them, coming from his body and disappearing into the distance.

The maximum number of strings you had seen on a person had been around 3 or 4. You had never encountered someone with so many before. You were reminded in that moment that Saiki was the most powerful human on earth. As if there was any before, but there was no doubt about it after this.

There were so many broken strings between you and Saiki that you were unsure which one would switch off your immunity to his telepathy. This whole process of 'turning it off' was basically a visual guessing game. The only thing you could do was trust your intuition since that worked for you majority of the time.

The thin strings that stuck out of Saiki’s temple caught your attention; there may have been ten or so of them, and a few strings coming through his eyelashes, tangled in the mix. It had to be one of them— your gut feeling told you so. It was now or never, so you willed them to connect with you, for the strings to mend. The process took longer than usual, a given since Saiki was such a powerful esper.

Once you were done and finally opened your eyes, you realised you were clenching your teeth. The headache that hit you was expected, and you were grateful you were on the floor. If you had been standing, you would have fallen already.

You rubbed at your forehead, your fingers trying to lessen the pain by massaging your temples. “There. That should do it. Try using your telepathy on me.” You didn’t notice Saiki’s stare or the look of mild concern he shot your way; too busy trying to ease your migraine.

'Can you hear me?’ You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Saiki’s voice reverberating inside your brain. The heavy furrow between your brow relaxed somewhat when you realised that your headache was gone. How? You had no idea. 'Wahhh, your voice is echoing in my head. This is weird.’

“So, it does work.” There was a slight difference between Saiki using his telepathy only on you and him using telepathy to speak, the slight echo. It was so minuscule that one wouldn’t notice unless they were looking for it. The only similarity was that both times, he hadn’t moved his mouth. Until now, Saiki’s lips had moved when he addressed you. It was weird, knowing that he communicated with you now without moving a muscle.

You surmised that he was talking to you telepathically now. Did that mean others could hear, too, or was it just one person at a time or something? You got rid of the mental image of Saiki turning to everyone in class to repeat himself until everyone heard, as soon as it appeared. No— they could probably hear him if they were close enough; he was the most potent psychic you’d seen, after all.

Saiki nodded as if to confirm your suspicions. He folded his arms over his chest as he gazed down at you. "I’m talking to you telepathically, but it’s different. Anyone in hearing distance will be able to pick up on the sound of my voice.“ He had read your mind, hadn’t he? He answered your questions without you having to say them aloud.

Having thought it up yourself was one thing, and having him agree with your deductions was another. It was similar to having a theory about a show and then later finding out that it was canon. You landed somewhere between feeling awe and slight shock.

"You're that in tune with your powers? Unbelievable. Do you— Do you have any more abilities?” You were on the edge of your seat because this topic absolutely fascinated you. The sense of danger and fear you once felt when near Saiki was nowhere to be found.

You wondered why since it was only 10 minutes ago that you wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, but satisfaction always brings it back, so were you really in the wrong? “I have multiple powers. Telekinesis, levitation, x-ray vision, clairvoyance, astral projection, pyrokinesis, mind control, psychometrics, and invisibility are a few I can name off the top of my head. Only one of which works on you.”

Your lips parted, and you weren’t sure how exactly you were supposed to feel after being bombarded with such information. The number of powers Saiki possessed would explain why you had seen so many strings on him before. “Seriously? Are you sure you’re human?”

“I'm just your average high school.” You would've assumed he was humble, but the way he was adamant made you think he was trying to convince himself, too. To each their own, though. If he wanted to be average, then who were you to fault him?

You wondered if it was your place to say what was on your mind before you abandoned the thought. Why did it matter? He knew what you were thinking anyway. Damn, most people could only dream of the abilities Saiki had, but surely being that powerful came with a price.

You had your powers, and if you hadn't experienced them first-hand, you’d think they were super cool, but you knew the burden. The grass wasn’t always greener on the other side, and the law of equivalent exchange was true. To gain something, something else of equal must be lost. Maybe that was why Saiki was so emotionless, kinda like Mob from Mob Psycho 100.

“How… how do you even live with a burden like that?” You popped the question that had been bugging you. When you took a peek at Saiki, your eyebrows raised in surprise when you realised that this was the most astonished you’d seen Saiki in the time you’d observed him, though he quickly regained his composure. “Burden? …Why would you think it’s a burden?” He patiently waited for you to answer, and you found yourself gazing past his shoulder at the wall behind him.

“Well… if you look past the hype, then isn’t it just troublesome? From how you act, I’m guessing you have no control over your telepathy. Always knowing what others are thinking— even if you don’t want to must be hard, no? I bet it’s spoiled a lot of movies and shows for you. I’m guessing it makes it really hard to make friends, too, since no one can know about your powers.” You listed your reasons one by one. ”Oh.”

For once, you were being honest willingly. You may not have had psychic powers yourself, so you couldn’t be certain Saiki agreed with your guesses, but you could at least try to sympathise. It was the same with you since your immunity had its ups and downs.

You didn’t notice the silence that engulfed the room, too busy stuck in your thoughts. “I’m going to be blunt. Do you like me?” For a second, your mind short-circuited because you couldn’t wrap your head around Saiki’s words. A flurry of questions filled your head. 'How did this happen?’, 'Why did it happen?’, 'Where am I?’, and 'Who am I?’, the norm. 'Get a grip!’ You pulled yourself together before you replied. “What? Huh? Why would you even think—”

Saiki remained stoic, cutting you off so he could speak. “You stopped all of Yumehara’s plans when she tried to get closer to me.” So, maybe after his revelation, you could kind of, somewhat, maybe understand why he would jump to the conclusion that you liked him. It was reasonable if you looked at it from his point of view, but it was the furthest anyone could get from the truth.

You admitted to finding him attractive, sure, but that was because you had eyes that could see clearly. He was pretty; what else was there to say? It didn’t go any further than that, though. You barely knew the guy! “You noticed that? Uh— no. No, I don’t. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... Multiple times.”

Knowing that he had psychic powers made it easy to understand how he had picked up on your behaviour at school. Saiki nodded, and you guessed that he was indicating that he believed you.

You were at a loss now of what you should do. How was one supposed to continue the conversation in this situation, again? “Don’t tell a soul about what happened here today. I mean it. I’ll know if you breathe a word of this to anyone." You readily agreed to his request, signalling that you’d keep everything a secret; it's not like you went around airing people's dirty laundry anyway.

Before you had a chance to say anything else to Saiki, the sound of a notification from your phone drew your attention. Pulling the device out of your bag, you checked the lock screen to investigate. A text from a family member had let you know that there was a package for you.

'There’s a box full of coffee jelly. Give them out to your classmates so you can make more friends!’

You suspected that they bulk-brought coffee jelly from the supermarket so you could hand it out to your class after the weekend. You sighed; it’s not like you needed it. Besides, what would happen if your classmates didn’t like the desert? You’d rather not be humiliated by rejection.

"Coffee jelly?” You forgot Saiki could read your thoughts now. You lowered your phone to look at the psychic in question, raising your eyebrow. Even if his expression was neutral, his previously blank eyes were practically sparkling.

Did he… like coffee jelly? You decided to take the risk of asking him if he wanted some. It was easier to be rejected by an acquaintance (?) rather than a stranger. “Do you uh— do you want some? I don’t plan on handing them out to people or eating them all by myself. They’ll go to waste… but if you’re willing to take them off my hands—”

“Yes. I’ll take them.” Saiki’s response was instantaneous. You couldn’t stop the slight smile of surprise that graced your lips. You hid it with your phone as you studied him. What a turn of events. There was no sign of the all-powerful esper you were used to. 'He’s much less intimidating like this.’

“Well… do you wanna go to my place, then?”

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

bonus:

Saiki returned to his house after a long day, making his way up the stairs to go to his room shortly after taking off his shoes. He thought back to the day's events, satisfied with the outcome.

Saiki would never admit it, but his favourability for you had sky-rocketed when you offered him coffee jelly. He guessed that it wasn’t so bad that you knew of his powers now since it had ended with him getting his new favourite dessert.

You giving him the treat was enough for him to no longer consider you a nuisance. He would never tell you this in person, of course. He would rather die than let you find out he held you to a higher standard than his classmates now.

'Claiming my powers are a burden when anyone else would praise them… you’re interesting, l/n.’

Saiki decided not to dwell on his thoughts as he changed out of his uniform and got ready to go to bed.

At least now, he could finally read your mind. He no longer considered you dangerous, and with that, another disastrous day of his managed to meet a not-so-disastrous end.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part - metanoia

#saiki x reader #kusuo x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki kurumi #nendou riki #shun kaidou #hairo kineshi #yumehara chiyo #teruhashi kokomi #the disastrous life of saiki k.#friends to lovers #x reader #tdlosk

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the-californicationist · 11 months ago

Text

The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever.

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age.

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade.

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice.

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones.

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?”

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain.

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin.

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high,

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively.

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing.

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot.

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size.

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself.

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood.

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal.

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated,

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus.

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony.

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help.

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes.

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you.

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility.

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure.

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely.

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session,

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.”

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves.

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life.

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure.

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said.

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.”

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.”

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs.

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale,

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication.

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm,

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real.

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then.

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own.

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again.

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done.

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss.

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved.

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts.

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan.

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you,

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival.

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts.

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame.

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time.

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars.

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip.

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots.

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry.

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual.

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself.

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement.

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated.

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick.

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience.

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused.

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious.

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance.

Another loud slam. Another rejection.

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned.

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again.

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation.

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it.

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well.

Alpha Price had imprinted for you.

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time.

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people.

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed.

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform.

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you.

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.”

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black.

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch.

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting.

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent.

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face.

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle.

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice.

He chuckled a bit, sighing,

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly,

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you.

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key.

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will.

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control,

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back,

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command.

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there.

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water.

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him,

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him,

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million.

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you.

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs.

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake.

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center.

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate.

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done.

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform.

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed.

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony.

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply.

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant.

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened,

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them,

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave.

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar.

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land.

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to.

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him.

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil.

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms,

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you.

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega.

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done.

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived.

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power.

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence.

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard.

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what.

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance.

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings.

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly.

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time.

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure.

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock.

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power.

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you.

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet.

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat.

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response.

No deal.

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor.

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in.

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot.

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed.

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need.

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped.

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body.

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness.

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest.

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him.

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars.

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core.

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. .

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief,

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream.

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland.

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core.

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste.

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see.

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you.

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight.

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths.

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais.

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever.

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest.

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again.

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love.

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #call of duty #captain price #captain price x you #john price x female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #captain price x reader #alpha john price x omega reader #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #ritual #public exhibition

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trivia-yandere · 3 months ago

Note

now that milf is kinda?? becoming a ‘series’ COULD WE AT LEAST GET ANOTHER PART FOR ‘OFF LIMITS’ AND ‘WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO DO?’ PLSSSSS

like ceo jk, hybrid jk, milf jk, dark web jk, actor jk, step-bro jk is just going to have to continue waiting i suppose???

fuck it, another part to brother's best friend jk!!

off limits (3)

the act of sneaking around behind your brothers back is highly exciting for you and jungkook.

word count: 4.632

warning: smut, secret dating, jealous mc/jungkook, alcohol intake, kisses/neck kisses, oral sex (m), oral fixation, unprotected sex, praise, degradation lmao, mc slobbering like a slut, dirty talk, creampie, semi-public sex,

part one | two

”That’s a lot of toppings.” you laugh, witnessing the way Jungkook douse his frozen yogurt with fudge - not including the amount of fruit, sprinkles, granola and even candy already on it.

“The more the better, baby.” Jungkook winks, rounding around you to get even more topics.

You roll your eyes, doing the same.

The last two months, you and Jungkook had been secretly dating. It took over 3 weeks for Jay to not watch you like a hawk after the incident at Jungkook’s house.

Now, even though you and Jungkook remain careful, you’re able to freely come and go without his questioning it much.

You have to admit that sneaking around with Jungkook is fun. When Jay’s friends would be around, you and Jungkook would share glances, his lips would form a little smirk and he’d send you a wink. When no one is looking, he’d slip away to the bathroom where you’d be waiting just to kiss you - all because it was a rush.

Jungkook at times had his doubts. He loved Jay like his own brother and going behind his back wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he also loved you. You were someone he couldn’t keep my mind off of, especially after having you for the first time. Each time Jungkook thought about confessing to his friend, you would shut him down.

You didn’t want Jay and Jungkook to be against one another because of you. Deep down, you also had the fear that Jungkook would end things with you out of respect for your brother, an act of finally coming to his senses.

“I think we should binge watch Temptation Island later.” you say prior to bringing a spoonful of frozen yogurt into your mouth. You hum at the sweet taste. “Lina’s been trying to get me to watch it for weeks now.”

Jungkook’s already halfway done with his frozen yogurt when you speak, taking large spoonfuls, his eyebrows knit together and a look of pure disgust on his face.

That meant Jungkook liked the way it tasted, as weird as it was.

“Later tonight?” Jungkook asks, licking his lips. “Jimin’s having a party.”

“A party?” you tilt your head. “I wasn’t invited.”

Which was weird because you were always invited to Jimin’s parties. There wasn’t any mention of it before now.

Jungkook nods. “You know why.” he says, a glint in his eyes. “Jimin knows about us.”

Your eyes widen slightly, your mouth falling open.

“You told him?” you murmur. You’re unsure why - it was only you and Jungkook in the frozen yogurt shop. The teenager behind the counter could care less about your and Jungkook’s secret relationship. “What if he accidentally slips up and tells Jay?”

“I had to.” Jungkook takes another scoop of his frozen yogurt. “He caught on to us.”

You scoff. “How? We’re very discreet!”

Only discrete when Jay was around. However, this was also Jimin. Jimin had a keen eye for these things. He knew of your crush on Jungkook since high school and pondered if, while now in college, if it ever subsided. He kept an eye on you, not reporting back to Jay this time since you were an adult.

Jimin noticed just how close you and Jungkook had become. The wandering eyes whenever you two thought no one was looking. The subtle touches here and there, the smiles and laughter.

It was painfully obvious - only to him, however.

“Jimin’s not going to tell.” Jungkook assures.

That didn’t mean Jungkook hadn’t been confronted. Jimin, while Jay and Taehyung were arguing over a game of checkers, both tipsy, had leaned against Jay's kitchen island. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at him - “You’re fucking Y/N.” he stated in a low, hushed tone.

Jungkook denies it at first, but then he squeezes his hands together. An immediate sign that Jimin was right.

“Jay’s going to kick your ass when he finds out.” Jimin sing-songs. He grabs a bag of chips and turns to walk away. “Secrets safe with me.”

“That doesn’t explain why I’m not invited.” you pout a bit. You wanted to hang out with Jungkook. You didn’t have class tomorrow, either. There was an abundance of things you wanted to do - watch Temptation Island and grow irritated, make clay sculptures like you’ve seen on Tiktok. Sit on his face.

“It’s not that you’re not invited.” Jungkook has reached the bottom of his frozen yogurt by now. “Jimin knows you just can’t keep your hands off of me-”

“Now you’re just full of shit.” you snicker. “It’s you who can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“-and how else are we going to keep our secret when you’re going to be there provoking me?”

You rolled your eyes.

You had every intention of going - and you did.

After you and Jungkook ate frozen yogurt, he had dropped you off at home; Jay being at work. That didn’t mean that you weren’t going to jump into his lap and initiate a makeout session that Jungkook willingly participated in. His arms wrapped around you to hold you close against him while your hands cusp his cheeks.

“You can always come in for a bit.” you hummed against his lips, pecking it a few times. “Jay isn’t off until another hour.”

“That’s risky.” Jungkook squeezes your hips. “Jay will see my car out here and know that I’m in there fucking you good.” he jokes.

You roll your eyes. “Not if you park it down the street.” you hum, rubbing your nose against his. “How would he know? It’ll be dark out by the time he’s off.”

Jungkook pecks your lips. It was insane that he was considering it, right? He never enjoyed saying no to you.

“Especially since you’re planning on leaving me to go to Jimin’s party.” you say against his lips.

“You’re guilt tripping me now?” Jungkook snickers. “I’ll be inside in about five minutes.”

Your smile widens. “Can’t wait.”

Neither could Jungkook.

Even if Jungkook’s conscious knows that doing this with you was risky, it brought such a rush through the both of you. The act of being caught doing something neither of you should be doing just makes you two want to do it even more.

Jungkook’s lips are on you as soon as he enters your bedroom. His hand roams your already naked body, groaning against your lips. “You’re already naked and ready to be fucked.”

“You’re not naked enough.” you respond, tugging at his shirt.

Jungkook leans away from you enough to remove his shirt, throwing it aside. He’s already tugging at his belt, inching to remove his clothes and be closer to you.

Your legs wrap around Jungkook’s waist, bringing him close to you. You loved kissing him. He was a naturally passionate person, as if every time you kiss is the first time. He would savor the taste of your lips, kissing you gently and slowly.

Then there were times when Jungkook's kisses would be needy, kissing you with such intensity. It would grow hot and heavy, his tongue dominating with yours.

“‘wanna make you feel good.” you break the kiss first, your cheeks warm.

Jungkook allows you to flip him so he’s on his back now. Your pussy is so close to his cock that it throbs. He swallows, licking his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod your head. You decide to tease Jungkook, kissing his soft cheeks, down his jaw to his chin. You make your way towards his neck.

Goosebumps erupt throughout Jungkook’s skin as you begin to kiss from his neck, to his collarbone to his chest. His hands rub along your back as you get lower and lower.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me to go to Jimin’s party.” you say. Your hand wraps around Jungkook’s cock. You glance up at him.

Jungkook bites his lip, gulping once more. “If I don’t go, Jay would be suspicious, don’t you think? I’m always at a party with them.”

You roll your eyes, but Jungkook had a point. Your tongue swipes at his tip, causing him to inhale sharply.

“I’ll miss you.” you say against his cock, twirling your tongue teasingly around his tip. You can taste the salty pre-cum and you’re determined to have him shaking in the next five minutes.

You enjoyed sucking Jungkook’s cock.

The act of sucking dick is far more enjoyable when it’s someone you actually liked. Doing this with Jungkook was an activity you highly favored - witnessing the way his breathing would hitch in his throat with each suckle onto his hardened length. The way his thighs would shake a bit as you take him deeper and deeper into your wet mouth. The groans that would come from his own parted lips.

Your eyes would glance up at him to find that his own are fluttering. His head would be drawn back in relaxation.

It would cause your own heat to throb with such need - just like now. You aren’t being quiet as you engulfed his cock into your mouth. Your soft hand is gripped tightly, gripping his cock along with you when you reach the tip.

Jungkook himself is whimpering like a bitch - but it isn’t his fault you’re this good. You suck him as if it brings you pleasure, as well - and maybe in a way, it does. He knows just how wet you get by hearing him moan for you. You’d often clench your thighs together and provoke more moans from his lips and each time, it worked.

“You’re so good at sucking my cock, baby.” Jungkook sighs, a hand resting on your head. “You always look so pretty doing it.”

There goes the throbbing - you were also a sucker for praise just as you were for degradation. Or maybe you were just into whatever as long as it was Jungkook.

Through his lashes, Jungkook witnesses a bit of drool trickle from the corner of your mouth as you take his cock deeper and deeper, your throat tightening around him. He closes his eyes, whining at how good it feels, the pressure building up deep in his stomach. He was never afraid to moan for you, especially when you were treating him so well.

Jungkook’s fingers tightens in your hair and without warning, he pries you off of him. You gag, saliva flying down your chin. Your eyes blink a few times until your blurry vision is clear to look at your boyfriend.

“I wanna cum in you.” Jungkook pants.

You nod your head hastily, already climbing into Jungkook’s lap. Your thighs widen to and gently, you sink lower where Jungkook’s cock is already waiting, his palm wrapped firmly around it to assist in entering it inside of you.

“You’re already so wet by just sucking my cock, huh?” Jungkook murmurs, his tip running through your wet folds. “You always get so wet.”

Your walls clench when you feel Jungkook begin to enter you. You whine a bit, the feeling euphoric. One palm lays firmly around your waist, another on your ass as he thrusts upwards. He grips the flesh in his palm, sinking you firmly on top of him.

“You feel so good.” Jungkook gasps.

You take the first initiative to rise and fall, needing to feel him entirely. Jungkook allows you, fully enjoying the way you take control and use him for your own pleasure.

You rocked your hips, mouth fallen open to let out short whines of pleasure when his cock springs inside of you by your own doing. The sight of Jungkook beneath you, completely pussy whipped, sends electricity through you. His staminas always outmatched your own, but this had given you enough will to keep on, completely blissful and full of pride that Jungkook was like this because of you.

“Your cock feels so good, Kookie.” you coo, hovering above his face as your hips buckle more and more, skin slapping echoing off your walls. Your pussy is so wet, gushing out entirely and onto his thighs that it’s nearly unbearable to handle.

“We’re being so loud right now. We can be caught at any moment.” A hand lays onto Jungkook’s cheek, a thumb tracing along his panting lips. Jungkook’s eyes open a bit to look at you - they’re dark and full of lustful bliss. “Maybe I should slow down…”

You’re only teasing him, but Jungkook gives you the reaction you want.

“Please don’t.” Jungkook whines, gripping onto your hips and ass tighter. “You’re so good at this, baby. I love your pussy so much.”

You pick up the pace, bouncing onto Jungkook’s needy cock with every bit of will you have. It hits against your sweet spot and sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You couldn’t help but want to fuck him with every fiber of your being; especially with how hot he looked beneath you.

You press your lips against Jungkook’s firmly, prying them open so your tongue can dance with his. Jungkook’s hips begin to meet you halfway, allowing a more harsher pounding - all until you stop bouncing and let him take control.

It wasn’t a complete mistake, Jungkook knows how to fuck you just as good. Your pussy squelches for him. Squeezing and unsqueezing with each punishing thrust that you were beginning to see stars.

Your teeth clamp down onto Jungkook’s bottom lip, tugging it slightly. There is a tightness in your stomach with each thrust that has you whimpering against him, your forehead pressed against his. “I want you to cum in me.” you beg, knowing that you were so close and the action was going to be what was going to send you over the edge.

“I know you do.” Jungkook sighs. His thrusts are already sloppy. “You always do, baby. You love having my cum in you, huh? You’re such a fucking whore for me and I love it.”

The pressure subsides when the warmth fills you entirely. You're shaking against Jungkook as his cum fills you up. You let out a tired sigh, slumping onto his chest.

Jungkook’s chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily. His eyes are closed, his cock still inside of you. A hand rubs against your back softly. It was another five minutes until you moved from on top of him to beside him, an arm around his torso.

“Are you coming back later tonight?” you asked, eyes closed. “Jay never comes home after parties.”

Jay also goes to work the next day, which is such a dangerous combo, but you have to applaud his will to get shit faced just 5 hours before he clocks into work.

“Me being here is already risky.” Jungkook responds. He presses his lips into your hair, inhaling the scent prior to pressing a kiss onto it. “Why don’t you just come to mine later? I’m off tomorrow, too.”

You and Jungkook lay in silence for who knows how long until there’s footsteps heard throughout the home.

Jay was back. He never enters your room without permission, so you weren’t worried. Quietly, Jungkook begins to dress, the moment not truly ruined, but he wished he had more time with you.

You poke your head out, eyes roaming the hallway to see where Jay had gone. Down the hall, you hear the shower on.

“Coast is clear.” you sing-song, whispering to the man hovering behind you.

You linger at your front door as Jungkook makes his way out. He turns to you for a moment and smirks. “Don’t look so sad, my love.” Jungkook murmurs. He wraps you in a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’ll have all my attention later.”

You lift your head so Jungkook can press a kiss to your lips - and he does. You knew full and well that you would have his attention later.

Right when you showed up to Jimin’s party.

Jimin was always here when there was drama.

Not in his personal life, of course. But others? He loved it.

Just like now, witnessing you and Jungkook glaring at one another. Both of you are drunk and seething and only he notices it.

It began when you had walked right into the party, a sea of dancing bodies all around the large home. You were none the wiser when you witnessed Jungkook next to a woman - who was obviously flirting with the man, yet he’s as oblivious as he always is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first, and even if he had it wasn’t as if he was entertaining the woman. He was just too nice to tell her that he had no interest in a conversation. That, and he was terrible at flirting cues - the batting eyelashes, wide smile and constant laughing even if nothing he said was remotely funny.

It was hilarious for Jimin to watch. Especially when Jungkook had finally noticed you. The look in your eyes as your eyes glanced between the two of them. It was as if a light bulb flashed in Jungkook’s mind, and he finally realized that the girl wanted more than a conversation.

Jungkook couldn’t pursue you here without appearing suspicious. Jay hadn’t noticed your presence yet, and Jimin doubted he would. He was already drunk and upstairs participating in beer pong to know that his sister was downstairs in a rather tight dress that revealed more than he would approve of.

Jimin began to watch you and Jungkook as if it was his favorite reality show. You downed shot after shot, ignoring Jungkook entirely. When he would get close enough to catch your attention, you would turn on your heel and go somewhere else entirely.

An hour in now and Jungkook was leaning against a wall not too far from you. He watches you with annoyed, yet interested, eyes as you dance. You were enjoying yourself, he thinks, or maybe you were enjoying ignoring him while you know he watches you closely.

Jungkook doesn’t step up as he watches you, beer bottle in hand. He sips it.

Jungkook doesn’t step up until there’s a man directly behind you. Jimin watches, his eyes glancing between a now more puzzled Jungkook and you, an equally puzzled expression.

It happens so slow in Jimin’s eyes. The way Jungkook storms over, pushing the dancing bodies away to get right between the man - who is an acquaintance - and you. There’s a few words exchanged that Jimin cannot make out of, but he reads Jungkook’s lips and he’s sure he’s telling the man to fuck right off.

Jimin takes a shot as Jungkook turns to you, his eyes glaring just as yours are, but neither of you speak. It was so dramatic, he thinks, the loud music. Sea of people surrounding the two of you, yet he’s positive that at this moment, it’s just you and Jungkook. The music in your ears is dying down and the people are just blurs in the background.

That, or maybe Jimin was so drunk that he was making a whole plot in his head.

“You’re drunk.” Jungkook says.

“So are you.” you retort. “Where’s your friend?”

“You know who my friends are.”

You cross your arms. “Do I?”

Jungkook watches you for a moment. He had watched you the entire time, tight dress riding up your thighs with each sway of your hips before the man had come and attempted to dance with you. An action he was never going to allow, no matter how upset you were with him.

“I’ve been watching you since you came in.” Jungkook speaks.

Jimin rarely dims the lights, but he feels as though now it’s needed. For this moment, he thinks. On his phone, he does just that.

Thank God for smart lights.

Jungkook would thank him for allowing him some sort of privacy - especially if Jay suddenly appears and witnesses this. Now, you and Jungkook blended perfectly into the crowd of dancing bodies.

“I bet you have.”

Jungkook feels more comfortable touching you now that the scene was darker. The music is upbeat enough for the both of you to keep up. He turns you around, placing his hands onto your hips.

“You’ve been distracting me.”

You decide to do what you were doing prior, swaying your hips now against Jungkook instead of alone by yourself.

“You must want to get caught.”

The small quarrel you and he were having appeared to have diminished, unknowingly to them because of Jimin and the lack of light. It was easier now to blend with people that couldn’t truly see you unless they were close.

“You’re the one behind me.” you respond. “Maybe it’s you that wants to get caught.”

Jungkook’s lips are on your neck, his hands gripping tighter to keep you firmly against him.

“You look so good in this dress.” Jungkook says against your neck. “You knew what you were doing coming here in this.”

You were already warm, but Jungkook was now making you hot. You and he continue dancing, his hands roaming your body for whatever feel he could get.

“Suddenly you’re not afraid of getting caught.” your head leans back and turns to look up at him. Those eyes are familiar, you think. The yearning eyes he has whenever he wants to bend you over and fuck you.

“No one’s really watching us now, are they?” Jungkook’s hands roam upwards past your breast and onto your chin.

Jimin has to admit that a drunk Jungkook was a far bolder one. He watches him place his lips onto yours, all the while you and he sway against the beat. This was far better than any reality tv he’s watched.

Your lips dance with Jungkook, completely uncaring about being in a room full of people who both knew you and him - together or separately. As of right now, it was just you and Jungkook, both of your minds swirling with liquid courage.

“I want you.” you pant against his lips.

“What happened to playing hard to get?” Jungkook chuckles, pecking your lips once more.

“We can go upstairs.” you murmur, turning to face him.

“Jay is upstairs.”

It’s as though Jungkook suddenly remembers where you and he are at. His eyes glances around, ensuring that no one has been watching you. Of course, he doesn’t notice Jimin.

“Can’t we go home then?” you pout. You grab his hands and slightly squeeze them. “I need you.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. “Now?” he questions.

You nod your head. You come closer to him, tugging his hand. “I’m so wet.” you murmur. “Just feel.”

Jungkook swallows. You’re dangerously close. Your eyes watch him just as his hand discreetly goes between your legs and swipe at your clothed clit.

Wet wasn’t the word - drenched was.Your cotton panties were doing a good job at concealing your arousal, but Jungkook groans at just feeling how excited you were.

“Fuck, baby.”

Jungkook grabs a hold of your hand. “Follow me.”

The bathrooms were occupied. Jungkook wasn’t going to risk trying the one upstairs and bumping into Jay. He had promised to meet him later on for a game of beer pong, and he never turned down a game so leaving before that wasn’t going to happen.

“What if we get caught here?”

The sun room is the only part of the house that’s empty, as strange as it was. It’s dark out and the frosted glass on the walls allows a bit of privacy. The top of said sun room has regular glass windows where the moon and stars shine just bright enough for Jungkook and you to see one another.

“Isn’t that what makes this fun?” Jungkook smirks. He closes the door behind you and him, the music muffled. “Imagine someone coming out here and finding me fucking you?”

You lick your lips, clenching your thighs together.

Jimin’s sunroom was simple, a round rug that held a round coffee table and four surrounding chairs. A few plants surround the room, some tall while others not.

“Please fuck me, Kook.”

Jungkook grunts. “You’re that desperate?” he scoffs.

You are. You don’t want foreplay or anything - you just want his cock buried deep inside of you.

You lean against a chair, hiking up your dress. Jungkook is just as needy, undoing his belt and pushing his pants down.

“You’re such a fucking whore, Y/N. So cock hungry that you’re willing to get fucked anywhere.”

Jungkook’s fingers hook between your panties and shoves them down. Your glistening cunt welcomes him and without much thought, he dives in.

You and Jungkook aren’t even trying to be quiet. His hips snap and he’s fucking you with such punishing - yet delicious - speed. Your ass bounces against him, pussy squelching loudly as the sound of skin slapping dances around the room.

“My pretty girl,” Jungkook grunts. In and out, in and out - he fucks you with such need. Your pussy hypnotizes him and all he can focus on is the way you cream against his cock, whimpering and begging for more. “you’re such a good little whore, Y/N. Fuck,” he lets out a strangled groan. “all mine. I’m all yours, too.”

Your eyes glances at the shut door, adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of someone finding you and Jungkook in here. His fucking you with such greed, showing you and anyone else who saw that you were his.

That finally Jeon Jungkook was yours, and no one else. After silently crushing on him since your youth, now you and Jungkook are together. He was as yours just as much as you were his.

“I love you so much, Kook~”

It was easier saying it seeing as you’ve said it before - countless times. All those back when he thought of you as a little sister. Now, however, it causes his heart to jolt in his chest and the familiar pressure in his stomach to return. “Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, coming closer to you. “I-I love you, too.”

It didn’t feel weird saying - Jungkook did love you. It was more complicated now, only because of your brother, but he didn’t feel like he said it out of lust. He genuinely did have love for you, far more than he had when you and he were children.

Jungkook shoots warm cum deep inside of you, his right hand reaching between your legs to rub at your clit. You’re gripping his cock, thighs shaking with overstimulation until you’re cumming all over him.

“Oh,”

The door opens for a moment and Taehyung walks halfway through it before noticing Jungkook and you. His eyes are wide and slowly, he begins to back out. “I see the room’s already taken. Fuck,” he hisses.

The door closes and for a moment, Jungkook and you are silent.

“Is he…”

“He’s drunk.” Jungkook assures. “He’s not going to remember walking in here.”

Jungkook pulls your panties back up and your dress down before fixing himself. You sit slump against the chair to catch your breath.

“We should tell Jay.”

Your eyes glances at Jungkook who sits besides you in another seat.

You bite your lip.

“It doesn’t have to be now or even a month from now.” Jungkook says. “But…we can’t keep this secret forever. I can’t keep pretending to hold it together around you.”

You softly smile, recalling the way Jungkook had glared daggers at the man before.

“And neither can you.”

Jungkook’s teasing, but you’re fully aware of that yourself. Your hand tangles with his and he brings it to his lips.

“Until then,” you give him a playful smile. “you’re still going to fuck me when he’s asleep down the hall?”

Jungkook laughs aloud. “Of course.” he says - because the act of sneaking into your room as if you and he were horny teenagers in a forbidden romance was fun.

trivia-yandere: hopefully this final part satiates you guys :3

@sweetempathprunetree @investedreader @darkuni63 @chimmy-licious @momnomnom @dreamersparacosm @deeznutkooks @purple-realms @jenniebyrubies @ahgasegotarmy116 @marylight098 @matryoshka-poetry @laross860 @jimineepaboya @joonislife @vsr4197 @amyelbahary08 @jkmyyou

#off limits #trivia-yandere #explicit-tae #brothers best friend #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bangtan smut #btswritersclub #bangtanwriters net #bangtanwritershq #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #secret dating

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lyvhie · 2 months ago

Text

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “distraction ”.

“And you know what else?” you looked at him with raised brows, your eyes glowing with excitement, happiness, and curiosity. “The Ship of Theseus.”

“The Ship of Theseus?” he repeated, a small smile dancing on his lips as he watched you.

He’d been sitting there on the couch for a while now, elbow resting on the backrest, cheek nestled in the palm of his hand, just listening to you ramble with a kind of captivated patience. In the past hour alone, he’d learned that octopuses have three hearts (each with a different function), that you shouldn’t boil water in the microwave, and that there’s a post office underwater in the Bahamas. That, and a dozen other strange little facts you’d gathered from the corners of the internet or your own imagination.

And now, somehow, you’d segued into philosophical thought experiments and “what if” hypotheticals—What if the internet shut down globally? What if black holes contained entire civilizations? What if you and he were enemies in an alternate reality? What if the person who invented ice cream… hadn’t?

No matter the topic, he loved hearing you talk. Even when you drifted into “If I were a zombie, I’d eat your brains first” territory, it was always entertaining. Time moved differently around you—faster, lighter. Especially when you were on one of your rolls, your brain and mouth fully activated, like you could talk forever.

“So here’s the thing,” you continued, eyes bright. “Theseus’s ship has thirty planks. As he travels, the planks start to rot, so he replaces them, one by one, until eventually, none of the original planks remain. So… is it still Theseus’s ship? Or is it a completely different ship?”

“Hmm, interesting question,” he hummed, pretending to ponder deeply for a few seconds before adding, “What do you think?” That was the magical sentence.

“Glad you asked!” your eyes lit up instantly, as if you’d just been waiting for the invitation to dive deeper. “We have to ask ourselves: what actually makes Theseus’s ship his ship? If we say it isn’t the same ship after replacing all the planks, then how many planks need to be changed before it becomes something else? Like, where’s the line?”

Your hands moved as you spoke, passion flooding your tone. “And think about us. Our body cells change every day. Some die, others regenerate. Does that mean we’re a completely different person over time? Or are we still ‘us’ even after all that change?”

“Hmm, difficult question,” he nodded thoughtfully, watching as you nodded back with enthusiastic agreement. “So this ties back to what you said about what makes a thing that thing, right?”

“Exactly! I’m getting there,” you giggled, visibly delighted. “So, some philosophers say that…”

He stayed quiet, listening as you rambled on, occasionally nodding or humming to show he was still with you. And he was—just not exactly in the way you'd think.

At some point during your monologue, he stopped focusing on your words and started focusing on you.

The way your brows furrowed at each contradiction, the way your smile bloomed when you hit on an idea you found satisfying, the way your hands waved through the air in wide, expressive gestures, it all captivated him. But more than that, what really got him was how free you looked. How natural. How completely yourself you were around him.

It wasn’t just about the random facts or philosophical tangents. It was the way you trusted him with every thought that passed through your mind—like you wanted to let him in on the world inside your head.

And god, he loved it.

He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you got excited, how your voice picked up speed like it couldn't wait to catch up to your thoughts. He loved the little creases that formed between your brows when you were deep in explanation, and how you'd pause only to grin when you realized he was still watching you, really watching you.

“—and that’s why some argue identity is more about continuity of function than physical components,” you continued, eyes bright, hands still moving, completely immersed in your train of thought. “But that was only one of the theories. There’s another one that…”

You trailed off when your eyes met his again.

There it was, that warm, soft gaze, like he was looking at the most precious thing in the whole world. His eyes almost pulsed, like hearts of their own, and his lips curled into an enamored smile that made your chest flutter… but also…

Yeah. That was definitely the look of someone who hadn’t heard a single word you’d said in the last five minutes.

“Hyuck… you’re not listening to me, are you?” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you started to sulk.

He laughed, not even trying to deny it. “Yeah, I’m not.”

“At least you’re honest,” you muttered, eyebrows knitting together, a pout already forming on your lips.

“I was too distracted,” he added, and that soft tone again, like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

“You could’ve just said you weren’t interested,” you said, eyes dropping to the side, voice quiet and maybe even little wounded.

Another chuckle escaped him, even softer this time, as he scooted closer. Gently, he cupped your face, coaxing you to meet his gaze again.

"I am interested," he said, voice lower now, more sincere. "Just... more in you than in what you were saying.”

God, how he loved looking at you up close like this, close enough to take in every single detail of your pretty face, from the curve of your lips to the spark in your eyes.

“Plus, you can’t really be mad at me,” he added with a playful grin, pinching your cheeks lightly before gently squishing them between his hands. “I did listen to everything you said, up until a few minutes ago.”

He tilted his head, eyes softening again.

“I don’t know about Theseus’s ship,” he murmured, “but I do know you’ll be mine forever… no matter what parts change.”

You blinked a few times at the sudden declaration. If he was trying to make you less mad with such a ridiculous statement… well, damn it—it was working.

“That was so cheesy, oh my God,” you said, your tone lighter, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your best efforts. You didn’t look mad anymore. As stupid and over-the-top as it was, your heart was doing those annoying, giddy flips that you pretended not to notice.

He laughed, clearly pleased with himself, then leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. “What? I’m just showing you that I love you,” he said, the smirk on his face growing as he pressed another kiss, this time to your cheek.

You tried your best to hold a straight face, but the warmth of his words (and those sweet kisses) were melting away your sulk faster than you'd ever admit.

“You’re so annoying,” you muttered, a small smile betraying your attempt to sound irritated.

“And yet,” he said, stealing one more kiss, this time right on your lips, “you love me anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t pull away. “Yeah, yeah… lucky you.”

His grin only grew wider, because yeah, he was.

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea.

#haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #donghyuck fluff #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff

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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

Text

sumire — ryomen sukuna.

(happy mother's day concubine reader)

the other woman masterlist

ryomen sukuna had always believed even ever so quietly, ever so instinctively that you were born to be someone’s loving and kind mother. it wasn’t something he thought about often. not when the world demanded blood and grit from his hands. not when he had buried softness under centuries of survival. but then he saw you with chiharu.

he watched the way your arms curved instinctively around her small frame little by little, the way your own voice softened as you brushed back strands of her luscious long hair, your thumb tracing ever so kindly behind the shell of her ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.

she wasn’t yours. you knew as much, he knows just as well. she was not your own blood. she was not yours by birth. not even by any bond you had asked for. he had given the child to your care well enough, that was for certain.

you could have let the girl live in the comforts of your household without the luxury of your touch, or your care or your affections. you had more than enough to let her be educated by the maids of your household, to be cared for by the strangers that took care of you too.

after all, his scarlet eyes were perceptive enough to see. enough to see the very essence of your soul, to see the very essence of your face, that face which held the face of a ghost he longed for. he knew that you resented living with the ghost of ryomen hiromi well enough.

yet, instead of the frown on your lips when you look at the looking glass, you smiled at his little daughter. you smiled at her like it didn’t matter that she was a living ghost left behind by the one ryomen sukuna had long loved and grieved.

for the longest time, he had pondered all about it. you had not spoken to him about it. and he did not have the gall to ask. curiosity was enough and he was not willing to let it eat him whole and take root of him.

still, he allowed that curiosity to remain. and to let it be a fond echo that reflects when he looks at you laughing as you and chiharu played in the autumn leaves together.

but he felt like he had seen something that made him understand that day as you both played together in the bright expanse of the manor. it had been the first time she ran to you after scraping her knee.

as she stumbled toward you, tears streaming down her face, ryomen sukuna saw something flicker in your expression. it had felt almost something beyond him. something so unknown, something so ancient, a tenderness that rose within you like a quiet, instinctual force, older than any word, older than language itself.

“mama, it hurts!” chiharu sobbed, her small hands clutching at her knee.

without a second thought, the grandeur of your bright red silk did not matter to you. nothing else had mattered. not the possibility of the dirt, not the possibility of his displeasure that he could later notice the unkempt creasing through your skirts. yet you did not care.

you quickly dropped to your knees, your caring hands moving swiftly to pull every inch of her small frame into your arms, cradling her with a tenderness that seemed to come from somewhere beyond this world. this moment felt so unique to him. to a god who couldn’t have ever had a mother.

“shh, it’s okay, little flower.” you murmured softly, your voice gentle, soothing, as you pressed your cheek to her temple. “it’s just a little scratch, sweetheart. i am here.”

the words fell from your lips like a lullaby, and the god named sukuna watched, transfixed. it was more than just comforting a child. there was something about the way you held her, something in the depth of your gaze, that made it clear.

it was as if you had known this moment long before it happened. it was as though she had once been curled inside your womb, your bond not formed in this lifetime but some quiet place in a world long past.

“i’m sorry, mama.” chiharu whimpered, her tiny hands clutching at your kimono. “i wasn’t careful! a–and now your skirt is wrinkly!”

“don’t apologize. that does not matter to me at all.” you whispered, brushing her hair back, the softness in your touch betraying the strength of the love you had already wrapped around her. “what matters is that you’re safe now, hm? I’m here for you.”

sukuna stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. he didn’t know why, but in that moment, something inside him shifted. this child, who wasn’t his, wasn’t even yours by blood. she was a piece of another world, another time.

but somehow, she had become yours in a way that left no room for doubt. he watched you cradle her with such tenderness, such absolute certainty that she was yours to protect, and for the first time, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. of loss, of wonder, of something more fragile than even the weight of his grief.

“you never flinched.” ryomen sukuna’s voice broke the silence, though his words were barely above a whisper. the flickering candle light dancing against the wind. you did not look up to him as you drank your bounty of sake. “not even when she called you mama.”

you glanced up at him then, your eyes soft, but something still raw behind them. “why would i, my lord?” you replied, your voice steady but quiet, the question hanging in the air between you.

he shook his head slightly, still unable to fully grasp the depth of it. "she's not yours by blood, little one." he said, the words rougher than intended.

“no, she is not, my lord. you and i both know so.” you agreed, looking down at chiharu as you continued to stroke her back. “but you had tasked me to care for her. and such tenderness….it doesn’t need blood to make it real.”

"i should suppose it does not." he murmured, his gaze flickering from you.

“i hope you will allow me to continue to care for her." you tell him. "that is....my only request, my lord."

he swallowed, fighting the lump in his throat. he turned to the small bowl of sake and drank it himself. your answer had merits in his eyes. after all, he knew very well what it was like to know that. he who was once human, an adoptive son of the ryomen.

and for a fleeting second, he wondered if he could ever understand how such love, such quiet, unspoken devotion, could take root in a heart as hard as his. a god has no use for love, after all. yet still, he found fondness still remained. for all the parts of him that could remember what it was like to be human.

he could only think that such feeling was reserved for ryomen chiharu, his only daughter. hiromi’s beloved little daughter. hiromi, whose name still lingered in the hollow places of his memory, whose laughter sometimes echoed faintly in chiharu’s giggles. the shape of her nose. the tilt of her head when she was being stubborn. the brightness of her smile.

all of those were all hiromi. and sukuna thought that when he would take her to you that those echoes of your anguish might make you pull away as she teared up, as she laughed, as she dreamed, as she breathed. but you didn’t. not once had you done so.

he had expected it. and he wouldn’t have blamed you. years and years of misery. and he had broken it into you. he had forced a world that was never yours for you to suffer carrying, like some unholy punishment. years later, he had added more. her, that little girl. that ghost of hiromi left in her blood, in her flesh. in everything.

you saw the ghost in her face and didn’t flinch. you didn’t chase it out or smother it in jealousy. you made room for it. for her. for all of it. and when he came to you one evening, scarlet eyes lowered in guilt he could not name, he tried to ask for the first time. he tried to press the weight of his remorse into words. but a god was not good at such words.

“i never meant to bring this onto you, little one.” he murmured, the sentence fragile and foreign on his tongue. perhaps it was the sake talking. “yet i have.”

“there was nothing to be done when you had brought her to me.” you say to him, almost as if it was a matter of fact. “she is a child. she cannot do much on her own just yet, after all. you know that well enough......she needed someone, my lord.”

“you think that i cannot be that one for the child?”

you could feel a bellowing laughter blossom to your lips, perhaps more graceful than anything else. “my lord, you live to be a god. how can a god love so thoroughly without contradicting himself?”

you only looked up at him from where you sat on the floor, chiharu asleep on the edge of your knees, the soft fabric of your new kimono becoming a comfortable canvas for her little head. your fingers gently combing through her hair.

“and….she’s not a burden, my lord.” you said simply, a small ghostly smile on your lips. “she is a comfort…..in my gilded cage.”

he was quiet for a long time after that, the silence stretching between you like the hush after a storm. his scarlet eyes were on the sleeping child curled in your lap, the rise and fall of her breath steady against your silk. he watched the way your fingers moved through her hair, careful, unhurried, as if you were weaving something sacred into each strand.

“a gilded cage, little one?” he echoed, voice low, almost bitter. almost as if this was not the thing he had expected to hear from you. “is that what this place is to you?”

you tilted your head slightly, considering. “it is beautiful here. soft food. silk beds. still gardens. a hundred rooms and a thousand silences. but it is still a place where i am kept.”

he said nothing.

he merely stared.

he let it simmer in.

“but it is not a cruel cage, my lord.” you added gently. “not always. it is just… one you built for yourself, and then placed me inside when you thought it might ease the ache.”

his jaw flexed. “i did not mean to make you stay, little one.”

“If you say so, my lord.” you said, a tight smile beckoning on your lips. perhaps tighter than the ribbons that adorn your hair. “but you never gave me a door either. as always, i am a twittering bird who can never fly.”

your words were not angry. there was no fire behind them. only the low, enduring warmth of someone who had long made peace with something difficult. someone who had learned to live inside the quiet, instead of fighting it. as if you had resigned to living such a life like this.

“and yet, little one…..” he said finally, eyes meeting yours. “you stayed.”

you gave a small shrug, cradling chiharu a little closer. “where else would i go? and….she needs me. i need her too.”

he looked away then, as though the weight of your honesty was too much to meet. his voice was tight when he spoke. “do you resent me for it, little one?”

you hesitated, not because you didn’t know, but because the truth was fragile, and you did not wish to wound him with it. not more than he already had been. your husband may have been a god, but he still liked to hear flowering words. perhaps more than most mortals would.

“.......i do not know for certain, my lord.” you said at last, more honest than before. “however, i think…..i can only resent the way you grieve. the way you think pain must be carried alone. as if to let anyone help would tarnish the memory of what came before.”

sukuna’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the tremble in his knuckles barely noticeable. “you speak as though you knew her.”

“no, my lord. i dare not encroach upon that.” you whispered. “but i know you. and sometimes… that is enough to see the shape of the one who came before.”

he looked at you then, truly looked for a moment. he looked at you like a man drowning who hadn’t known it until just now. like someone seeing light in the corner of a cave he thought would never end.

“she would have liked you, i should think.” he said hoarsely. he lets the alcohol become stale. “and perhaps that’s the worst thing of all.”

you gave a sad smile. “i would have liked her too……that’s the tragedy of it, my lord.”

chiharu stirred in your lap, shifting in her sleep with a soft sigh. your hand came to rest over her back, soothing her with no words at all. “does she haunt you when you look at chiharu?”

sukuna was silent for a moment. you like to think he would not ever speak. but when he does, it surprises you. “mayhaps.”

“and me?” you asked quietly. “do i remind you of her?”

he didn’t answer right away once again. he lets his hardened eyes linger to your face, the essence of that ghost, the love he had longed to see. a crestfallen darkness falls in the corner of his eyes. he purses his lips in a flat line.

“a face is nothing to the soul, little one.” he said finally. “you are nothing like her. you never truly will be. and that… is why it hurts less, when i look at you. it is better to have less regrets. and….less ghosts roaming about.”

you nodded slowly. perhaps that was the kindest thing he had ever said to you. “i see.”

“that is for the better, do you not think, little one?”

“.....perhaps it is.” you said, more to yourself than to him, the words hanging in the air like soft thread waiting to be tied.

the silence that followed was not cruel. it was not the kind that was punished, not the kind that once wrapped itself around your throat in the early days of knowing him. it was something else now. something closer to understanding, or at the very least, to resignation.

sukuna let out a long breath through his nose, steadying the storm behind his ribs. he looked at the pale cup of sake near his hand, untouched since his confession. then he looked at you again, perhaps more honestly this time.

he did not look at you the way he looked at others, those who were truly below him. not with suspicion or calculation or hunger. but as if you had become something still and holy, wrapped in moonlight and child–breath.

“you are… softer than i remember you being, little one.” he said at length, and the words startled even him.

you blinked. “.....that is surprising to hear from your lips, my lord.”

he gave a strange, low sound. it was part sigh, part scoff. “you think i would let anyone raise my daughter without remembering every line of their face?”

a pause, thick like honey. “but you didn’t know me then, my lord.” you said, almost gently. “at least not truly. not as you do now.”

“no, i do not suppose so, little one.” he agreed. “and even now, i wonder if i truly do.”

you glanced down at chiharu again, whose little hand had curled into the fold of your kimono like a bloom seeking warmth. you could feel the breath leave you in shaky bits as you looked up to your husband.

“i am no great mystery, my lord. only a woman with two hands and a heart full of borrowed grace.”

he looked at the child, and then back at you. “and yet you carry her as though she were born of you, little one.” he murmured.

you smiled. “children do not care for blood, my lord. only warmth. and safety. and someone who will stay when night comes.”

he was silent again. there was a kind of stillness to him now, almost like a mountain after thunder. like an old wolf sitting at the edge of his cave, watching snowfall for the first time in many years.

“you will stay, then?” he asked suddenly, voice quiet, but firm.

you blinked once. then again. “you never gave me a door to this cage, my lord.”

a flicker of something passed through his expression. perhaps remorse, maybe, or something more ancient. grief shaped like guilt. you want to shake off the feeling of it. that was not your husband. you don’t think that is him.

“would you walk through it, if i gave you one, little one?” he asked, almost too sincerely.

you turned your gaze to him fully. “.....i do not have anything beyond this life, my lord. perhaps….perhaps, i would not walk through it at all.” you said, honest and unafraid.

“i see.”

“but….” you say, before stopping yourself. “it is kinder to be given the choice.”

his head bowed slightly, as if he were accepting judgment from some unseen god. perhaps it was you. perhaps it had always been. outside, the wind shifted through the garden trees.

inside, ryomen chiharu’s breath deepened. the moonlight painted your face silver, and sukuna, this man of fire and wrath and blade and destruction, merely sat in the hush beside you, quiet as prayer.

“then stay, little one.” he said again.

the words came softer this time. it was not a command, not a plea, but something stranger. gentler. as though he were offering something not even he fully understood. something raw and trembling beneath the weight of all he had ever lost.

you could not look at him when he said it. your gaze stayed fixed on the child in your lap, her breath rising and falling in a rhythm so steady, so innocent, it made your chest ache.

you watched the tiny curl of her fingers against your kimono, the way she had unknowingly claimed you with such trust. the moment felt suspended. it was left fragile and swollen, as if even breathing too deeply might shatter it.

you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. you didn’t want to see the truth in them, even the ones you can only lead yourself to believe to be drunken ones. the grief, the weariness, the quiet terror of someone who had lived too long and loved too little.

you didn’t want to see him asking something of you he didn’t know how to name. because you feared, maybe, that you would give it. so you said nothing. not a yes. not a no. only silence. the kind of silence that spoke of everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

but you stayed.

not because he asked.

not because you were bound.

but because the child in your arms had curled into your warmth like she had known you before she ever learned to speak. because the night was long and the world outside was cruel, and someone had to carry the softness of it all. someone had to stay when everyone else had gone.

you stayed because love does not always bloom with fireworks or fever. sometimes it creeps in quietly, like ivy up the walls of a ruin. the tenderness, persistence, patience. and most of all, the foolishness. the foolishness of the other woman who loves.

the next morning, the hush of dawn settled over your manor like a breath held too long. outside, the sky was barely pink, the sleeping world still blurred at the edges with sleep.

the massive paper screens of vermillion hall filtered the morning sun into soft amber streaks across the floor. the kind of light that asked for quiet. that seemed to say: let things lie, just for a while longer.

chiharu was still curled beside you, her small body warm and heavy with sleep. one hand clutched the edge of your sleeve, even now, as though in her dreams she was still afraid you might vanish.

you brushed a few strands of hair from her cheek, gentle as falling ash, and began to sit up slowly. you wanted to be careful. it was best not to wake her before the sun was up in the sky.

and then you saw it. your husband, he was gone. the space he’d occupied last night was empty, blankets pulled back, the weight of his body gone from the world beside you. no footsteps. no voice. no warning.

just the flowers.

a small bundle of the finest flowers. you could remember the name almost instantly. it was sumire, you think to yourself. bright and fresh sumire.

it was resting neatly at the edge of his side of the futon. they weren’t wrapped in silk, weren’t tied with care. just a single length of red thread, likely torn from his own sleeve.

their vibrant purple petals were slightly crushed from where he must have held them too tightly. damp still from the mountain air. imperfect. wild. real. they were hard to find, you knew that too well. in this season, in these mountains.

your hand moved without thought. fingertips grazing over their delicate shape. soft. trembling a little. you sighed for a moment. not heavily, but deep. it was a sound from the chest, from your heart. it was like something exhaled that had been caged inside for far too long.

because this wasn’t just a gesture. not for him. he hadn’t left with silence this time. he hadn’t vanished into grief or guilt or the excuse of war. he had left something behind. something beautiful, in its own clumsy way. you slowly allowed yourself to let your lips flicker upwards.

at first, it was real. it was wide and warm and a little surprised. because it was so like him to do the most tender thing in the least expected way. because somewhere between the blood on his hands and the weight of his past, he had still chosen to say thank you.

then, slowly, the smile turned softer. sadder.

like a leaf curling at the edges with the coming cold.

because you knew what those flowers meant.

they were a confession in the only language he trusted. they were an apology not for what he had done, but for what he had never learned how to be. for the way he loved in crooked, fumbling pieces. too proud to speak it, too broken to hold it the way you deserved.

you brought the flowers to your chest and closed your eyes. “you’re trying, aren’t you?” you whispered. “you….you never cease to make a mess of me, my lord.”

not with bitterness. not with expectation. just the quiet truth of it. and that for a man like ryomen sukuna was a kind of miracle. it was a miracle for a god to let such thought ever come across.

chiharu stirred beside you, a soft, slow rustling beneath the layers of the futon. her breath caught a quiet yawn as her fingers flexed around the fabric of your sleeve, and then you heard it.

“...mama?”

the word was slurred with sleep, fragile as a moth’s wing. hesitant, as though she wasn’t quite sure if she was still dreaming. your heart caught. it always did when she called you that.

not because it wasn’t true, not in the way that mattered. but because it reminded you how easily love could take root in the spaces grief left behind. even when you were broken. even in a gilded cage, you could still love.

you turned to her, placing the sumire flowers gently to the side, as if they, too, needed to rest. then you smiled. soft and immediate. like sunlight spilling over a quiet room.

“good morning, little flower.” you murmured, reaching for her.

she blinked up at you, herr lashes still wet from sleep, her cheeks flushed with warmth. when you brushed her hair from her face, she leaned into your touch without hesitation. in this light, she looked like ryomen hiromi too well. almost identical to the stone in the audience hall. in the koi ponds. in the forestry.

“you’re still here, mama.” she whispered.

“of course i am, silly flower.” you replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “where else would i be? you slept in my chambers last night.”

“did i?” she questioned, her tone still slurring from the sleepiness.

you laughed slightly. “yes. you had too much fun yesterday, did you not?”

“yes….i think i did.”

“then i’m glad.” you say, embracing her close.

she didn’t answer, only curled closer, tucking herself into the space beside your body like she had always belonged there. and maybe, in some quiet, secret way, she always had.

you held her for a moment longer, the scent of the sumire still clinging faintly to your skin. and even though the bed was emptier than it had been last night, your heart didn’t feel quite as hollow. not this morning. not with her. and perhaps....not with the sumire tight by his sleeves.

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