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wonlovie · 1 year

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— RACING, BEATING.

You didn’t mean to show up to one of the most important meetings of your year completely hungover. No, in reality you would have preferred being sober when you met the man your father was marrying you off to. But how could you resist those dark eyes and plump lips that tempted you on your final night of freedom?

— starring. illegal-racer!heeseung x model!reader

— tags. arranged marriage!au but they kind of not really hate each other for like one scene, reader is touch starved af, smut [mild public sex (car, elevator), vaginal fingering, oral (m. receiving), face-fucking, establishment of a safeword but it's never used, degrading (use of whore and stupid bitch) [MINORS DNI]]

— word count. 11.9k

— notes. there was a whole other part to this but i kept rewriting it until i could not anymore 💀 if i do finally get it written the way i want to, i might release it as a part two to this 👀👀 lmk if u'd be interested!!

You were used to playing pretend. As the daughter of an influential CEO, you were born in the spotlight, never knowing what living without a camera pointed at you was like. By seven years old, you were a master at faking a smile. A gentle smile, never too broad because people would call you an overachiever but never too little, or you’d be caught up in unhappy scandals.

By fifteen years old, your father had announced your title as the face of his company and your ‘normal’ life as you knew it was gone forever. You no longer had time for actual studies nor for the fruitless relationships you had gathered. Instead, you spent your hours practicing your runway walk and your model face. Almost every wall in your lofty house was lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, never allowing you for a second to forget how you looked to others.

Your father was never one to miss out on making money, priding himself on his cynical and opportunistic ways of life. If something could be monetized, he was always the first one to come up with a foolproof plan to capitalize on it. Which is why you weren’t surprised when he announced to you that you were to be married off to the heir of a big company whose name you saw almost everywhere.

Years spent watching your peers grow up normally, studying hard and partying harder, left behind a bitter jealousy that you could never voice. For once, you wanted to feel normal. For once, you wanted to feel like your father’s daughter and not his employee. For once, you wanted to forget the world and experience true freedom.

That was how you found yourself sitting on an uncomfortable barstool, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop with a glass of some mystery drink hanging from your fingertips. The dress you wore stuck to your skin, showing off more of your body than you were ever allowed to in public. There was a dull burn in your calves from the stilettos you wore, but you paid no mind to them as you sipped gingerly on the liquor.

Tomorrow, you would be meeting the man your father was giving you away to. You knew nothing about him other than the fact that he was one of your father’s business partner’s son. You silently tipped up your drink, a silent toast to your last night of freedom. Knocking your head back, you winced at the unfamiliar burn as you emptied the glass.

When you ungracefully dropped the empty glass onto the counter, red lips stained the rim. “Another, miss?” you vaguely heard the bartender ask. You nodded without thinking, eyes staring forward without focus. Your cheeks felt warm from the few drinks you’d had since you sat down. As the bartender poured you another drink, you allowed your gaze to drift, scanning the room in curiosity.

Red lights lit up the space, random spotlights moving about from the ceiling. The music played loud enough to leave a slight ringing in your ear, your bones vibrating to the beat. Hundreds of people flooded the floor, you noted. Some pairs danced against each other provocatively, intriguing you as you eyed a girl making out with a taller man over her shoulder. Some people danced alone, mouthing the words to a song you didn’t recognize.

As you looked around, your eyes met a stranger’s from across the bar. He sat alone, unlike the many other patrons of the club, a half-emptied pint in front of him. From where you were, you could make out the details of his attire—a dark blazer that fit snugly over the expanse of his shoulders. He wore a silk button-up, rudely unbuttoned low, allowing you to see the curve of his collarbones down to the lines of his chest.

When your eyes flit up to glance at his face, he was already staring at you. His expression, which you can only describe as alluring, prompted you to suck your bottom lip under your teeth, gently biting at the skin. Dark eyes watched you from across the room, looking you up and down slowly before settling on your face. You watched carefully as a tongue flicked out to lick his pink lips before the corners pulled up into a smirk. He rose a brow at you, hair pushed back enough to let you see his silent beckon.

You mirrored his expression, taking a sip of your drink as you stared at him through the glass. The man held a hand up, showing off silver rings wrapped around his slender fingers that made you want to sin. Clearing your throat, you looked away and down at your drink, amber liquid sloshing around in the glass. Before you could even take another swig, a shot glass slid in front of you, its contents almost spilling out.

Looking up in confusion, you called over the bartender, who’d already turned his back to you. “Excuse me? I didn’t order a shot,” you yelled over the blaring music. The bartender glanced at you for a second before nodding his head in the direction of the man who, when you looked, was already gone. The bartender continued, already pouring a drink for another.

Knitting your brows together, you brought the shot glass up to your nose, scrunching it when the strong smell of vodka invaded your senses. A cough tickled your throat as you held the offending shot glass away. Your eyes danced over the many heads in the room, but the mystery man was nowhere in sight. Heaving a sigh, you tipped your head back, swallowing the bitter liquid as quickly as you could. Wincing slightly, you let out a breath as you placed the glass next to the other one.

“Atta’ girl,” a smooth voice crooned in your ear, tickling your skin and leaving behind goosebumps. A hand reached around, grazing the tops of your thighs as its owner spun your barstool around. Face to face with the man of the night, your breath hitched as you found yourself inches away from him. You wondered if he could hear your racing heartbeat over the pounding music.

Up close, you could see his lip ring, plump pink lips pushing against the silver as he peered down at you. His hand moved from the barstool to your waist, his warmth spreading over your skin like wildfire. His other hand leaned on the counter behind you, surrounding you in his essence. His attention was overwhelming as you caught his eyes glimpsing down at your lips before dropping to the curve of your breasts under your dress.

Your hands hovered over your lap, clenching and unclenching as you tried to figure out what to do with them. Keeping eye contact with you, the man leaned forward until he was a hair away, closer than any other man had been. “I’ve never seen you here before,” he spoke lowly, your ears just barely grabbing onto his words. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing stuck at the bar, hm?”

You bit your lip, his eyes quickly darting down. “Just… enjoying the night,” you mumbled, resisting the urge to lean forward. The air in your lungs felt trapped as your mind filled with incoherent thoughts.

The man tilted his head at you, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he bore his gaze into you. The hand on your waist pulled you forward until you were almost pressed against him, his thumb rubbing up and down over the fabric of your dress. “Didn’t seem like you were enjoying it,” he said, his breath fanning over your neck as he leaned to whisper in your ear. “I know how you can really start enjoying your night, sweetheart.”

When his lips brushed against your jugular, you had to stop yourself from throwing your head back, the simple touch sending you haywire. “Yeah?” your voice came out breathy, your hands finally settling to rest on his chest. Bent over you like this, his shirt rode lower than ever, letting you see his chiselled torso. You brushed a thumb over his skin, burning to the touch as he leaned back to look you in the eye. “How so?”

He smirked, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. He pulled you closer by the chin, using his thumb to pull at your bottom lip gently. Your heart raced as he came closer, his nose nudging your own as your eyes subconsciously started to close. “Just let me take care of you,” he rasped, his lips brushing against yours. The cool metal of his lip ring sent a shiver down your spine, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him as his grin seemingly grew. “Let’s get outta here, yeah?”

It didn’t take much convincing for you to follow the man out of the crowded club, guided by a hand on the wrist. With as many drinks as you had in you, it might’ve been worrying with the ease with which he was able to take you by the hand. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care as excitement bubbled in your lower abdomen.

Even his back was attractive, all broad shoulders and straight lines. A few earrings hooped around his ears, glinting under the strobe lights. When he pulled you outside, the cool night air was starkly different from the hot temperature inside. Goosebumps rose on your bare arms, causing the man to glance back at you with a worried look. Not another word was said as he brought you to a car you’d never seen anyone actually drive around town.

It was a bold red colour, something that reminded you of a crimson fire. You blinked when he opened the passenger side door for you as it swung upwards. The car was low, and you felt a bit awkward climbing in with your stilettos, but the man waited patiently until you were inside before closing the door. You watched as he walked around the car to the driver’s side, the head-up display blinking on the windshield when he started the ignition.

“Wow,” you mumbled dumbly, easily getting comfortable on the leather seat. He spared you an amused look, one eyebrow raised, paired with a smug smile. Leaning over, your breath hitched as he pulled the seatbelt over you, the click of its buckle cutting through the silence. He stayed there for a moment, hovering over you with eyes so intense you felt your mouth dry out.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispered, finally leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was aggressive, his calloused hand cupping your face and forcing you closer. Your teeth clashed as he licked into your mouth, but the searing feeling in your stomach made it impossible for you to care. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, eliciting a moan as his hand wandered down to your outer thigh. His fingers danced across your skin, pushing your skirt up until your black lace panties were exposed.

You threw your head back as he pressed his thumb against your folds, feeling how wet you’d gotten over the course of your earlier conversation. He breathed harshly, attaching his lips to your neck as he grazed a finger up and down your clothed cunt. You had no doubt that by morning, you would be painted with bruises. The thought was exciting to you.

He slipped a finger underneath the fabric of your panties, groaning when he felt your slick coat him in an instant. “So wet for me,” he almost growled, pulling his hand out despite your whines of disapproval. He pulled back, eyes flitting over your heaving form before settling into his seat. His lips were smudged red with your lipstick, and you found it unfair at how hot it was.

He was quick to pull away from the curb, the engine roaring to life as he drove down the busy street. It felt uncomfortably sticky between your thighs, rubbing them together. He was quick to grasp your thigh, pulling your legs open as he drove. While the hand on your thigh was still, his impatience showed in the hand that held the steering wheel, his finger tapping against it whenever he’d hit a red light.

You weakly moaned when his hand drifted higher, his pinky brushing against your core. You spread your legs further, urging him to do more than just light touches, but he didn’t give in to your silent pleas. The ride to, what you presumed was his place, was unbearably long as he continued to tease you. He would grip your thigh tightly, his rings pressing into your skin, and suddenly move up to flick at your covered clit. His sporadic movements left you a whining mess, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “Need you so badly,” you whined, flushing in embarrassment at how you sounded.

He scoffed, scraping his nail over your thigh, making you jump. “I can tell,” he said, his tone degrading as he pinched your skin. “Whining like a whore in my front seat, like it’ll make me fuck you any faster.” You gasped, his words going straight to your cunt. You could feel yourself get wetter, your panties sticking to your folds agonizingly.

You bit your lip as he pulled into an underground parking lot, the orange-hued lights casting an intimidating shadow over his face. When he finally parked, you realized he had brought you to a fancy apartment building. The parking lot was empty, not a soul in sight. Despite his words, he still opened your door for you, pulling you out of the car roughly. When the door closed, he pressed you against it, forcing his lips against yours as he ground his hips into yours. You moaned into his mouth at how hard he’d gotten, gripping at his blazer with shaking hands.

His kiss left you breathless, and you found that you really liked the feeling of his hands harshly holding your hips, keeping you from moving too far from him. You tongued at his piercing, taking his bottom lip into your mouth as he moved to push your dress up again. Pulling away, he was quick to kiss your neck as your eyes darted around the empty lot.

“Not here,” you gasped when he bit at the skin under your ear, “what if someone…”

He bit down harder, making you whine. “Let them see then,” he spat. “Let them see how much of a slut you are for me, sweetheart.” You made a noise of disagreement, causing him to pull away. You looked like a mess in heels, hair tousled, no longer in neat waves as you had them before, and makeup smudged. The glassy look in your eyes made him grin at you, a menacing curve of his pink lips.

He grabbed your wrist again, tugging you to the underground elevator as his car beeped behind you. The few seconds it took for the elevator to reach the parking lot felt agonizingly long, your legs shaking in anticipation.

The second the doors opened, he had you pressed against the frigid elevator walls, his hand blindly reaching to touch one of the top buttons. He pushed your dress up past your hips, fingering the lace undergarment between his thumb and pointer. Without wasting a second, he tugged. The sound of fabric ripping took you out of your trance as you realized he had completely torn them off you.

“Hey,” your voice was clipped as you frowned. “Those were expensive.”

He rolled his eyes at you, tucking the tattered fabric into his back pocket. “I’ll buy you a new set,” he said, annoyed that you had interrupted him. “Now shut up, princess.” He took your lips again, his hand moving to wrap loosely around your neck. He swiped his tongue over your lip as his free hand grasped at your hips.

“Fuck,” you whined highly when he traced a line up your cunt, collecting your juices on his fingertip. He made quick work with you, swiping over your clit with his thumb as he pushed two fingers into your sopping hole. The hand around your neck pressed down lightly, sending your senses into overdrive as he kissed you again.

“My name’s Heeseung,” he said against your lips. “Moan it for me tonight, yeah?” You nodded feebly as you spouted your own name in a mess of stutters.

When the elevator beeped, indicating that you were on the designated floor, he unwillingly pulled away from you. He stared at you darkly, pupils blown as he sucked his fingers clean. Your eyes trained on the way his tongue flicked at his rings, your slick disappearing into his mouth. You pulled your dress down as he guided you out with a hand on the small of your back.

When you made it into his apartment, you didn’t have time to gawk at how fancy it was, decked out with marble tiles and sleek glass light fixtures. As the door closed behind him, he pressed himself against your behind, grinding into your ass as he groaned lowly in your ear. His fingers dragged the fabric of your dress up to your waist, leaving your lower half exposed as Heeseung left dainty kisses against your bare shoulder.

Pulling the dress up and off, he ushered you further into the apartment, pushing open the door to his bedroom. He dropped the dress in the corner of the room before turning you around to face him. He took your lips, pressing deeply against you as he felt you up. His hands roamed as he licked into your mouth, one hand cupping and groping your left breast while the other shifted downwards. Resting on your hip, he brought you closer to him, pressing your bare cunt against his boner.

You reached down, palming his hard-on through his pants. He threw his head back in a silent moan, allowing you to continue with your ministrations. You hastily unbuckled his belt, tossing it on the floor next to your dress. Pushing his pants and boxers down past his knees, you almost moaned at the sight of his pretty cock.

It was long and thick, twitching as it wept pre-cum at the tip. It was a pretty flushed colour, enticing you closer. Looking up at him through your lashes, you watched Heeseung’s reaction as you licked the mushroom head gingerly. You scrunched up your nose at the bitter taste, but Heeseung’s wanton expression urged you to continue.

Taking the whole tip in your mouth, you sucked gently. You could feel yourself gush at the sound of his loud moan, pressing your thighs together as you tried to take more of him. He grazed the back of your throat before you could even take half of him. The sight of you struggling on his length made him feel impossibly hard, his ringed hand moving to grasp at your hair. Determined to make him feel good, you traced one of the veins that stretched along the length of his shaft with your fingernail before taking his cock in your fist.

Bobbing your head slowly, you matched your pass with your hand wherever your mouth couldn’t reach. Heeseung breathed heavily at the feeling of your hot cavern taking him in, your tongue swirling around his tip in a way that drove him up the wall. He could barely imagine how being in your cunt would feel, the mental image making him thrust unexpectedly against you.

When you gagged at the suddenness, Heeseung groaned, using your fisted hair to guide you up and down his shaft. “Fuck, baby,” he sighed, head thrown back and eyes scrunched in pleasure as you gained speed. “That mouth of yours is so fucking perfect. Like it was made for my cock.” He hissed when his head pressed against the back of your throat, holding it there until you swallowed around him, tears welling in your eyes.

The sounds that you were making would normally disgust you, the wet gags and spit dripping down your front as you struggled to take his girth, but with Heeseung, it only turned you on more. You rubbed your thighs together, feeling your slick coat your puffy folds.

Using his other hand to grip at your hair, he held you still as he fucked into your mouth, jaw agape as he watched you suckle on his length. You looked like the embodiment of sin, on your knees and taking his cock so well. He rubbed at the smudged mascara underneath your eyes, only making it spread as tears dripped down your face. “Shit,” he mumbled, gripping your hair tighter. “Fuck, I wanna make a mess on you, baby. Can I?”

You nodded the best you could, the thought of him cumming all over you making you impossibly wet. Swearing loudly, Heeseung pulled himself out of your mouth, using his hand to force your mouth open. You stuck your tongue out as he pumped himself desperately, chasing his release as he bore into your eyes. You gasped when he came, ropes of his cum shooting over your face and tongue.

He watched intently as you swallowed whatever landed in your mouth, wiping at the cum that dripped down your cheeks. “Get on the bed,” he said gruffly, not wanting to go another second without feeling your cunt drip around him.

You wasted no time in following his instructions, scooting further up the bed as he crawled on after you. He spread your legs roughly, situating himself between your thighs. Heeseung leaned forward, kissing you again as one of his hands rested around your throat. As he kissed you, sucking on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, his free hand traced down the side of your body.

Without warning, he touched your core, collecting your wetness on his fingertips as he rubbed up and down your cunt. You moaned loudly as he switched between teasing your entrance and swiping across your clit. “You’re so fucking wet, princess,” he groaned, kissing you deeply as he finally thrust two fingers into your hole.

You cried out into the kiss, arching your back up and into him as you held on. You gripped at his bicep that flexed with each movement, his fingers curling up into you. It didn’t take long for him to find your G-spot, rubbing dedicatedly against the spongey walls of your cunt. He sped up, thrusting his fingers into you with ease, slipping around your juices.

“Fuck, Heeseung,” you almost screamed as you neared your orgasm, “I’m so, so close, please—”

He pulled his fingers out, making you whine in disapproval, your eyes opening wide as you begged him to keep touching you. He ignored your silent pleas, taking his soaked fingers into his mouth as he had before. You watched, in a trance, as he swirled his tongue around his slender digits, the sight making you squirm in anticipation.

He reached over to his bedside drawer and pulled out a few packages. You glanced at them through your ditzy stupor, surprised to see several condom wrappers. Upon closer inspection, you realized they all had different flavours. “Pick one,” he instructed in an almost joking manner as if he didn’t just bring you to the edge with his fingers.

You contemplated just grabbing one at random, not wanting to wait any longer to feel him inside you. Reaching for one, you subconsciously made a face when you read what flavour it was.

“Not a fan of strawberry?” he asked rhetorically as he took the wrapper from you and tossed it back in the drawer. Impatient, he picked one and threw the rest back where he got them. You watched with intrigue as he opened the package with his teeth before rolling it onto his already hard cock.

“Hey,” he mumbled once he got the condom fully rolled on. “If you want me to stop at any moment, just say… Bambi, okay?”

You looked at him warily. “Bambi?”

He didn’t elaborate any further, pressing the tip of his cock against your folds. He rubbed the head through your slick, bumping against your clit before pressing into your tight entrance. He groaned in unison with you at the intrusion. You winced at the stretch, shoving your face into one of his pillows.

When he bottomed out, he pressed a sweet kiss against your cheek before pulling back and slamming into you. Your breath caught in your throat as you gasped for air, his sudden harsh thrusts surprising you. He breathed heavily as he moved, draping your legs over his shoulders as he leaned into you.

“So deep,” you cried, squirming at the stimulation. “Fuck, Heeseung!”

He moaned at the sound of his name on your tongue, leaning down to kiss you. The position only made him go deeper, and you struggled to kiss him properly, mind foggy with pleasure. His balls slapped against your ass, echoing against the walls. The sound of your sex was burned into your mind, Heeseung’s breathy groans and moans of your name bound to haunt your dreams from now on.

Heeseung pulled out and flipped you onto your side, re-entering you with ease. The position was something you’d never done before as Heeseung held your leg against his torso as he thrust harshly. He moaned out your name as he closed his eyes, as lost in the pleasure as you were.

“‘M gonna cum,” you warned, your voice high and shaking as you reached down to circle your clit. At the sight of you touching yourself, Heeseung sighed with rapture, trying hard to get you to the edge.

“Cum around me, baby,” he hushed as his thrusts grew harder, rougher. “Come on, you can do it.”

At his words, it felt like a cord had snapped inside of you, and you cried out as you came. He helped you through your orgasm, thrusting shallowly as your body shook and jolted. Once you had calmed down, he pulled out and fisted himself over the condom, the lube mixed with your wetness making it easy for his hand to slip up and down.

You watched, exhausted, as he leaned over you, a look of concentration on his face as he got off on your body. White filled the condom, low groans of your name reverberating in his chest as he collapsed on the bed next to you. You barely processed him standing to throw out the used rubber or how he came back with a warm towel and wiped you down gently.

Your eyes closed, and you felt yourself succumb to slumber.

When you awoke the next morning, you swore. Head pounding, you pressed your face into your pillow in annoyance. Of course, you would be having the worst hangover of your life. You didn’t even want to think about what your father would say if he knew you’d be walking into the meeting in a few hours, completely hungover.

You paused, pressing your face further into the pillow. The smell was unfamiliar, you noted. Not a second later, you sat up, eyes wide. Your lips parted in disbelief as you remembered where you were, memories of last night quickly returning to you. Holding the blanket up to your bare chest, you willed yourself to look over at the other side of the bed.

Heeseung lay there, rolled over onto his stomach, his cheek resting against the pillow as he slept. His hair was messy, sticking up in different directions almost cutely. You made a face when you caught a glimpse of angry red scratches down his back.

He looked unnervingly peaceful, considering the stampede your heart was experiencing. You swore under your breath again, quietly stepping out of the bed. The floorboard creaked underneath your weight, your head snapping back to see if the noise woke him up. Fortunately, he stayed blissfully in rest. You held your breath as you collected your discarded dress and your heels, also picking up the silk button-up you had thrown off of him last night.

He’s rich, clearly, you justified, taking a brief look around the room. His closet was cracked open, revealing several more expensive-looking clothes. Though, in your haste to make it to the bedroom, you didn’t get a good look at the rest of his apartment. You knew that it was huge if the building’s name wasn’t an indicator already. He won’t miss one shirt.

Not wanting to risk waking him up, you tip-toed out of the room before getting dressed in the hallway. You slipped the button-up on top of your dress and made your way to the front door, heels in hand. As you pushed the door open, you panicked when it beeped in alarm. With haste, you ran outside and closed the door before Heeseung could catch you sneaking out.

Without bothering to put your heels on, you booked it to the elevator, making it inside in time for you to hear Heeseung call your name. With wide eyes, you pressed the close doors button more times than necessary, only relaxing when they finally did close.

You opened your phone, only to see a text from your father asking where you were. Making an excuse, you used the reflective elevator walls to fix your appearance.

If anyone saw you, they would be none the wiser to the previous night. The automatic doors to your father’s company opened as you approached, a gust of air from the air conditioning pushing your freshly styled hair out of your face. Any marks that littered across your neck and shoulders were expertly covered up, and your eyebags were concealed just as well.

The sound of your heels, which your father insisted you wore in public, in the otherwise quiet lobby gathered the attention of the gaggle of people. Having so many eyes on you didn’t bother you as much as it had before, something you’re grateful to have gotten used to. Smiling politely at the pair of receptionists, you were quick to make your way up to your father’s office.

The elevator dinged, and you couldn’t help but think back to last night. The feeling of Heeseung’s warmth pressed against you as he fingered you and touched you was a thrill you don’t think you could forget if you tried. Clearing your throat, you looked at yourself in the mirrored walls, another habit you couldn’t get rid of.

Deeming yourself as presentable, you stepped out of the elevator and into your father’s large office. He sat at his desk, typing away at his computer. If he heard you come in, which he must’ve, he didn’t react. His graying hair stood out under the sunlight that the floor-to-ceiling windows let in. The glasses perched on his nose bridge threatened to fall down as his fingers tapped relentlessly.

“Good morning, Father,” you greeted, sitting down at the chair adjacent to his desk. He didn’t look up. “I’m a little early.” You crossed your legs, resting clasped hands on top of your knees. It didn’t surprise you when he didn’t say anything in reply, so you opted to look out the window. Being on the top floor, you could see most of the town. You could watch the bustling traffic and pedestrian-filled streets for hours, the busyness of life fascinating to you.

You weren’t able to stare for too long before a familiar ding interrupted your daydreams. You straightened your back, facing forward as your father stood to greet the newcomer. Unlike when you came in, your father straightened out his blazer with a warm smile, something that looked foreign to you. You watched quietly as he manoeuvred around the desk to formally greet the guest.

“Ah,” your father greeted placatingly, his timber voice filling the space.. “Lee Heeseung, it is great to finally meet you. I have heard much about you from your father.”

You felt your heart stop when you heard his name. Unwilling to turn around, you stared into the window’s faint reflection in hopes of seeing the man’s face. Maybe your Heeseung wasn’t the only Lee Heeseung in town. Surely, it wasn’t too uncommon of a name because there was no way that your one-night stand just happened to be your husband-to-be.

If your heart stopped when you heard his name, your soul left your body when you heard him talk.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, sir. I am honoured that you picked me out of all of your daughter’s candidates.”

As subtly as you could, you slapped a hand over your mouth.

You heard their footsteps grow closer. “Well, please have a seat,” your father ushered. “She’s right here. You ought to meet your future bride, right?” With each of their perfectly synced steps, you could imagine another foot of your grave being dug. “Heeseung, this is my daughter.” You inhaled sharply and took his cue to stand.

When you turned on your heel, you were sure that Heeseung’s shocked expression matched your own. Recognition burst behind his eyes, hidden behind a pair of glasses, and his lips—which you noticed was missing its piercing—parted in shock. You silently willed him to keep quiet about the night before, looking at him with widened eyes and a painfully fake smile.

“It’s you,” he blurted out, pointing at you with the slightest bend of his elbow. If you weren’t in front of your father, you could have smacked him over the head. “I was wondering where you went.”

Internally screaming, you put on a faux confused expression to match your father’s. “You two are acquainted already?” he asked, looking at you for confirmation. You were quick to shake your head no, glaring at Heeseung when your father looked away.

Bowing your head slightly, you smiled up at Heeseung as you would any other businessman. “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you lied through your teeth, desperately hoping he would catch on. “We have never met before today. But it is nice to meet you.” You held out a hand for him to shake, which he did after fumbling for a bit.

Heeseung looked at you with a confused gaze, eyebrows knitted together before a lightbulb went off. “Right,” he smiled graciously, putting on a persona completely different from the one you met before. “My apologies. It is nice to meet you. I’m Lee Heeseung.” Letting go of your hand, he nodded when you introduced yourself.

Clapping his hands together, your father grinned widely at the both of you. “Now, I have some work to tend to, but the two of you can continue to get to know each other downstairs.” Wanting nothing more than to escape the stuffy room, you agreed stiffly. “I’ll have the wedding planners contact you both later on.” Your father nodded at Heeseung once more before returning to his desk, the sound of his noisy keyboard filling the room again.

Heeseung followed you out after saying goodbye to your father, standing far too close to you in the elevator. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” he drawled out, voice dry. “The very woman who I happened to have a fun night with, only to wake up with her nowhere in sight, is the very woman whom I’m marrying.” He bore his gaze into you as he leaned against the elevator wall, his prim posture long gone. “How exciting, is it not?”

“Please, Heeseung, do not bring up last night.” Your voice was terse as you pinched your nose bridge in frustration, your ears and face warming up.

Heeseung raised a brow at your request, pushing off the elevator wall and stepping close to you. Your eyes widened as he backed you into the wall, eyes darting to the LED screen that showed which floor you were on. If anyone were to need the elevator, they would catch Heeseung pinning you to the wall, and you would have no excuse for it. “Come on, princess,” his voice lifted into a tease, “that’s not how you were begging me last night.”

You groaned, dropping your head and hitting it against the wall behind you. “Heeseung,” you hissed, glaring at him. You tried very hard to ignore the way that his glasses framed his face nicely and made him even more handsome, which you didn’t think was possible. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. Do not bring up last night unless you want me to castrate you.”

Heeseung pouted at you, resting a hand on his chest as though you’d mortally wounded him. “But if you castrate me, how am I supposed to please—”

“Heeseung!”

He laughed openly at you, shoulders shaking as his lips split open into a grin. “You’re so easy to rile up, princess.” He leaned toward you, hovering himself above you by resting his forearm against the wall. You glanced at the screen again, silently cursing your father for owning a building with slow elevators. “I don’t know what’s so bad about people finding out that we’re—how do you say it?—well acquainted.”

You breathed out in annoyance at his ignorance. “Did you hit your head? I don’t know about you, Heeseung, but I do care about how the public perceives me.” You jabbed a finger at his chest, though it had no effect on him. “If people find out, then…” You trailed off, your brows furrowing as you looked at the ground, the recently shined tiles sparkingly under the fluorescent lights.

“Then?”

You bit your lip, thinking back at your father and his cold demeanour. “Look,” you started, shoulders deflating. “If my father finds out that I went to that club at all and had sex with some guy that I didn’t know… He wouldn’t react well.” You spoke lowly, the topic dampening your mood immensely.

“Ouch,” Heeseung joked, tilting his head at you. “So, I’m just some guy to you?”

You deadpanned at him, unimpressed with the small snippet of information he chose to focus on. “You get what I mean, asshole. So please, just stop bringing it up. At least, not in front of him.” Your faith in his compassion was dwindling by the second, and his silence wasn’t doing much to help. When the elevator doors opened, you were ready to give up and began formulating an apology to your father for your behaviour.

Before you could duck under his arm to make your way out, he laid a gentle hand on your wrist. “Okay, okay. I won’t talk about it again. You have my word, princess.” You balked at his sudden sincerity, but before you could even utter a thank you, he opened his mouth again. “No more talking about how we had the most mindblowing sex—”

“Lee Heeseung!” You chided, quickly ducking under his arm and rushing out of the elevator. Your face burned as you walked through the lobby, no doubt catching the attention of curious onlookers. Embarrassment flooded your veins as you exited the building, standing on the curb with your face in your hands.

Not wanting to be there any longer, you pulled out your phone and searched for your personal driver’s contact. Before you could press the green call button, your phone was snatched out of your manicured hands. “Hey—!”

To your surprise, or perhaps you weren’t surprised at all, Heeseung stood next to you with your phone haphazardly dangling between his fingers. “What are you doing?” You asked as you reached to grab it. He pulled it away, grinning when it left you pressed against him.

“What are you doing?”

You rolled your eyes, jumping to grab your phone. Once it was back in your possession, you went to call your driver. “Going,” you answered simply.

“Going where?”

“Going anywhere but here.”

He clicked his tongue, pulling a pair of keys out of his pocket. “I’ll drive you. There’s no need to wait for your driver.”

You eyed him suspiciously, your thumb hovering over the call button. “I don’t think you understand. When I said I wanted to be anywhere but here, here is referring to here with you.”

He gave you the same look as he did in the elevator, lips upturned into a pout as his eyebrows arched upward. “You really do wound me, princess.” He pressed a button on his fob, and you could see a car’s lights flash a few meters away. It wasn’t the same one he had driven you in last night, so you looked at him in question. “I have two cars. One for business, one for fun,” he winked at you when he said the last word, only laughing when you pretended to vomit in your mouth.

“Come on, princess,” he took your wrist for the nth time. “Let’s go.” You begrudgingly followed, not missing the way several workers from inside had lined up against the window to watch the interaction. You smiled politely at them again, waving goodbye as Heeseung practically dragged you along.

Just as he had the night before, he opened the door for you. This car was much simpler in design than the bright red one, with a dashboard instead of a HUD and a simple touch screen instead of dozens of buttons and features you were too distracted to play with.

As he drove off, you stared out the window, refusing to look in his direction. He had pushed up the sleeves of his blazer, showing off his toned and veiny forearms as he drove, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the middle console. “I’ll take you home,” Heeseung claimed as he slowed to a stop for a red light. “But let me show you something first.”

You looked at him incredulously but only nodded before looking out the window again.

You didn’t pay attention to where he was taking you, watching fondly as groups of friends walked down the streets, wide grins splitting their faces as they talked. It was rush hour, and you ended up paused in traffic long enough to watch a couple emerge from one of the street stores, arms linked and full of shopping bags. They were wearing matching sweatpants and sweaters, making you look down at the dress you wore. Pursing your lips, you stopped looking as you pulled your skirt down.

“Y’know, last night your skirt was getting pushed up.”

At his words, you glared at him. “You are so sleazy.”

Heeseung only grinned, never taking his eyes off of the road. “Something’s on your mind. Had to get you out of that head of yours somehow.” He briefly glanced at you, “Did it work?”

You blinked in surprise before looking away. Your hands clenched on your lap. “Where are we going?” you asked, changing the subject. You pretended not to notice when Heeseung stared at you, opting to look straight ahead.

“Somewhere I frequent. I’ll give you some leverage over me.” You peeked at him as he made a left turn, tracing over the lines of his arms. “Sound good, princess?”

You could only scrunch your nose in confusion. “Why would you want me to have leverage over you in the first place?”

Heeseung shrugged. “It’s clear you don’t trust me. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t bring us up again in front of your dad, but I don’t think you believe me ‘cause you’ve barely looked at me since you got in the car.” You winced, not liking how he read through you so easily when you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “So, I’m bringing you somewhere that I’ve kept secret. You’ll be the only one who knows who could actually, you know, get me in shit with my dad.”

Unsure of what to say, you stared at his side profile in shock. “You are so confusing,” you muttered, leaning over to look out the window. You rested your chin on your palm to cover your warming face.

Before long, Heeseung pulled into an indoor race track’s parking lot. You looked out the window in confusion. Even from outside, you could hear the revving of engines and the squeaking of tires against asphalt. You spared Heeseung a look, climbing out of the car wordlessly. He nodded his head at you, guiding you to the entrance.

When you entered, the first thing you noticed was the yelling. Specifically, the sounds of fifth graders screaming as they circled the track in their go-karts. “Heeseung, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but a kiddie go-kart track isn’t exactly a best-kept secret.” A kid zoomed by on his kart, screaming at the top of his lungs as he pressed hard on the gas.

Heeseung only rolled his eyes at you, “So impatient.” Taking your hand in his, he tugged you along the back wall until you reached a staff-only door. Before you could argue, clearly neither of you was staff, Heeseung pushed the door open as if he owned the place. You gawked at him, whipping your head around to see if any staff were coming to kick you out.

To your surprise, the man behind the front counter only nodded in acknowledgement before going back to his morning coffee.

Heeseung kept walking, his large hand never leaving yours. You subconsciously balled them, swallowing thickly when Heeseung untangled your fingers to interlock them with his. Sneaking a look at you over his shoulder, he cheekily stuck his tongue out. The hallway beyond the door was empty, aside from a few bulletins with weekly events posted on them.

Once you reached the end of the hall, a staircase leading to a basement came into view. You pinched your eyebrows together in suspicion, rooting your feet on the ground before Heeseung could pull you any further. “Look, I’m not really in the mood to be murdered today, so I think we’ll have to reschedule—”

Rolling his eyes at you for the nth time that day, he pulled harder on your hand, almost knocking you off your feet. He caught you with ease, his warm palm pressing against your waist as he waited for you to steady yourself. “Trust me a little, please? I promise you won’t get murdered.” At the end of his sentence, he held out a pinky. You stared incredulously at him, decked out in office attire yet holding out his baby finger to you like an adolescent.

“Are you five?”

“Hey, cut me some slack. I’m six, actually,” he teased, wiggling his pinky at you as he silently urged you to follow through with it. Heaving a sigh, you latched your finger with his.

After following Heeseung down the dingy staircase, you were met with a similar sight. A large racing track encompassed the room, looping and curving in a way that filled the space. However, unlike the track you saw upstairs, this one was occupied by cars you’ve seen in racing movies. A deafening rush of cars drove past, sending a gust of wind your way.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, staring at the cars drive uncomfortably close to one another as they made another harsh turn.

Heeseung smiled at your awed expression, a sense of pride blooming in his chest. “Well,” he exhaled, “this is my secret.”

You turned to him quickly in disbelief. “You race?” As surprising as it might’ve been, the longer you thought about it, the more it made sense. Maybe it’d be hard to believe that the Heeseung in front of you was a racer, but the one from last night? With his dark demeanour and fancy car, you’d believe it in a heartbeat.

“Only on my work breaks,” he winked. “I’ve been coming here for years. This is where loads of the street racers in town come to get their fix when there are no races going on up top.”

“Street racers?” you echoed. “Like… the illegal ones?”

“Totally like… the illegal ones.”

You slapped his shoulder at his remark, bristling as you turned away. Heeseung only laughed, a loud laugh that stemmed from his tummy as he threw his head back at your displeasure. Ruffling your hair, he walked away, leaving you standing at the bottom of the staircase. You sputtered, moving to follow him, but before you could take another step, a man blocked your view of him.

“You must be Heeseung’s girl.”

You frowned at the assumption, even if it was technically true. “What on earth are you talking about?” you combatted, looking over the man with disdain.

He threw his arms up in surrender, silently telling you he meant no harm. “Relax! I just assumed because Heeseung has never brought anyone down here before.” He paused for a moment before smiling at you with a glint in his eye. “But you were also holding hands just now, so…”

Your face flushed at the prospect of getting caught. “Shut it. Who are you, anyway?”

The man’s smile widened into a grin, showing off his pearly whites. “I’m Jake. I run this place, so I’ve known Heeseung for forever. You, on the other hand,” he jutted a finger in your direction. “You’re a new face. Usually, newbies need clearance before coming down here, but I’ll trust Hee on this one. ‘Sides, I’ve seen you on a few posters here and there.” He whistled lowly, looking over his shoulder at the direction Heeseung left in. “I knew he was some hotshot, but I didn’t know he could actually pull someone like you.”

“Like me?”

Jake raised a brow at you, scanning your face as if you’d just insulted him to his face. “Uh, yeah? You’re a model, right? You’ve got the looks, so don’t be so bashful down here.” The sound of loud engines cut him off. The excitement seemed to burst from within him as he immediately ushered you over to some bleachers. “C’mon, they’re starting soon.”

He sat next to you as you tried to make yourself comfortable, feeling jittery from being left alone with a stranger. Not that Heeseung was any less strange to you, but it was better than being sat thigh-to-thigh with someone you’d just met.

“Purple car’s Yang Jungwon. The silver one is Park Jongseong,” he listed off to you as if you would know who either of those people were. You couldn’t help but nod along, his golden-retriever-like excitement rubbing off on you. You’ve never watched a car race in person before, nor have you ever gone to any event like it. “Green is our baby, Riki Nikimura. He just started racing a few months ago.”

As he talked, a familiar red car pulled up next to the others, revving its engine loudly as if to proclaim I’m here. “You probably know,” Jake continued. “But that one’s Heeseung.”

A whistle blew, and suddenly the four cars became blurs. It was as if you’d miss half the race if you even dared to blink. You watched, astounded, as the racers circled the track with ease, not bumping into each other a single time.

The race was over before you knew it, four laps around the large track driven in a matter of minutes. The victor, Heeseung, erupted out of his vehicle with a large grin on his face, pulling at his cheeks in pure joy. The other racers met him on the tracks; their car doors opened as they joined together on the asphalt.

You watched from a distance as they conversed excitedly, too far for you to make out any of their words. Beside you, Jake nudged you with his elbow. “Cool, huh?”

You breathed out, making eye contact with Heeseung as he beamed at you, sending you a wave before turning back to the other three. “Yeah,” you said simply. “Really cool.”

After Heeseung showed you the race track, you ended up seeing each other more often than you first thought you would. Turns out your father was serious about your engagement. True to his words, wedding planners met with you the day after the meeting. And the one after that. And the next.

A whole week of wedding planning sped past, and by the end of it, you were exhausted. You had one more stop on your schedule for the day, a simple cake tasting with Heeseung. You made it to the bakery first, standing outside idly on your phone as you waited for your husband-to-be to arrive. Your driver and security guard waited in the car parked nearby.

An engine revved twice, something that you’ve come to know as Heeseung’s way of greeting. When you looked up, he was already locking his car across the street, jogging across the empty road to meet you. “Hey,” he breathed, running a hand through his locks. “Sorry, I’m late. Riki’s engine was busted, and the kid doesn’t know how to fix ‘em yet. Normally we get Jay or Sunghoon to do the mechanic work, but they’re out scouting for spots.”

The mention of a possible race piqued your interest. You shook your head, smiling softly at him. “I just got here. You’re fine, Hee. Let’s head in?” He nodded, opening the bakery door for you before following you in.

The smell of fresh cake invaded your senses the second you stepped in. You closed your eyes in delight, taking in the scent blissfully. Heeseung chuckled at your antics, using his hand to guide you further into the building by the small of your back.

Before long, a head popped out from the back, a rather young-looking boy with a tall chef’s hat placed neatly atop his cotton-candy pink hair. His eyes were bright as he caught your gaze, cheeks pinkening at the sight of you. “Hi,” he greeted the both of you, dusting off leftover flour on his apron. “You must be Lee Heeseung and—” the boy turned to you, awestruck as he sputtered out your name. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare,” he apologized bashfully, bowing his head. “You’re just prettier in person. The magazines don’t do you justice.”

You had the gall to blush at his words, turning your head in slight embarrassment. “Thank you,” you paused to read his nametag. “Kim Sunoo. That’s very sweet of you.”

If possible, he turned redder at the sound of his name coming from your cherry lips. Beside you, Heeseung watched the interaction with displeasure soaking into his skin. “We’re here to taste your cakes,” he cut in before Sunoo could say another word, knocking him out of his reverie. “For our wedding.” If Sunoo noticed that Heeseung had stressed the last word, he didn’t say anything. You nudged him gently, telling him with your eyes to behave.

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his lips together.

The two of you followed Sunoo to the back, where an assortment of cake slices were laid on the counter. Your eyes bulged at the sight, counting over twenty cakes. “Your wedding planners gave me a list of what flavours you both had mentioned wanting,” Sunoo introduced, gesturing to the cakes with a wave. “There were… quite a few between the both of you, but luckily some overlapped.”

A few seemed to be an understatement. Heeseung looked over the variety of cakes before pointing at one. “Is this one strawberry?” he asked, inspecting it closely. You hovered by his side, gazing down at the many plates. Sunoo nodded in confirmation, clasping his hands in front of him. “Are any of the other ones strawberry-flavoured?”

“We have a few, yes—”

“Take them away; we won’t be choosing those.”

You blinked in surprise at his firm standing, as did Sunoo, who tilted his head in confusion. The movement reminded you of a puppy, and you fought the urge to giggle at it. “But the strawberry flavours were on your profile.”

At his words, you turned to Heeseung with a frown. “If you picked them, shouldn’t we at least try them first?” You surveyed the many strawberry cakes that Sunoo was in the process of putting away. “You obviously like them.”

Heeseung didn’t even spare you a glance. “You don’t like them.”

You stared open-mouthed at him. “How do you know I don’t like strawberries?” At your question, Heeseung finally met your gaze, only smirking at you as he rested his weight against the countertop, leaning on his palms.

“Do you really want me to get into that story here, princess?” You frowned in confusion. However, when you looked over at Sunoo, it seemed as though a light bulb had gone off for him, as his face became redder than the strawberries on the cake he was holding. A second passed before realization dawned on you, and you refrained from smacking Heeseung upside the head.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, ignoring the heat pooling in your tummy. “Let’s just taste these cakes and go home.”

Heeseung chortled, not even minding the fact that he may have left a rather lewd image in the younger man’s mind. “Whatever you say.”

After the first hiccup, the cake tasting went smoothly. You and Heeseung had finally decided on a cake with multiple tiers, allowing for multiple flavours. All of the bigwigs will be invited, Heeseung argued. Might as well appease them all.

A long hour had passed before the final order was set, and Sunoo told you to come by a couple weeks before the wedding to finalize the cake. Before you left, Sunoo came up to you, notepad in hand. “Sorry to bother you,” he spoke lowly, looking at you with a pretty smile. “Could I get your autograph?”

You agreed wordlessly, taking the pen from his outstretched hand. After signing it, Sunoo didn’t even give you the option of returning the pen on your own, instead taking your hand in his fondly. “I did mean it,” he said with sincerity dripping from his honey voice. “You really are prettier in person.”

You didn’t get to reply before Sunoo’s hand was slapped away. Heeseung’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, bringing you close to his side as he stared daggers at the baker. “Might I remind you that the woman you’re talking to will be my wife?” He spoke firmly, leaving no room for questions as he turned, dragging you out of the bakery. Your driver and security guard were long gone, having left at Heeseung’s promise to bring you home.

“What was that?” You asked in disbelief, glancing over your shoulder in time to watch Sunoo disappear in the back. “He’s just a fan, Heeseung.”

He said nothing, opening the door for you before promptly slamming it once you were situated. You flinched at the aggression, eyes trained on the man as he made his way into the driver’s seat. He started the engine silently, the keys jingling as they hung from the ignition. His left hand wrapped around the steering wheel, but he made no motion to pull away from the curb.

Instead, he leaned over the middle console and pulled you closer by the chin, three fingers gripping you tightly. You gasped at the sudden forceful movement, staring widely into his dark eyes. You felt his breath tickle your skin as he stared at you, eyes fixated on you as if you’d disappear if he looked away.

“You’re driving me mad,” he uttered, lips just barely brushing over yours as he spoke. He had his lip ring in today, and you shivered at the feeling. “Ever since that night, you’ve been on my mind. And it’s driving me insane because I can’t do anything about it,” he hushed, his tone torturous as he bore into you.

“When I walked into your father’s office last week, you have no idea how happy it made me knowing that you were going to be mine,” he hissed, fingers digging into your skin almost uncomfortably. “You’re mine, and yet you’re here entertaining other men that shouldn’t even matter to you.”

“Heeseung,” you mumbled breathlessly, eyes darting down to his plump lips. He narrowed his eyes at you harshly, his normally rounded eyes growing sharper as irritation swirled in his dark hues.

“You’re mine, princess,” he rasped, leaning forward. His lips pressed against yours in a kiss, his body moving fervently against yours to convey his turmoil. You moaned loudly when he bit down on your lower lip, his tongue licking into your mouth as he kept his hold on you. Unlike his other kisses, this one was messy. Your teeth clashed as he shifted closer, spit dribbling down your chin and onto your pressed clothing.

The hand that gripped your chin moved to wrap around your neck. He didn’t press down, but the heat that surrounded you sent shivers down your spine. “Let me take you home,” he almost begged, moving to bite at your ear. “Wanna show you who you belong to.”

You whimpered at his words, pressing your thighs together fruitlessly. “My apartment’s closer,” you gasped when he bit down on your jugular, his hot tongue shooting out to lick at the teeth marks. “Go there, please.”

The ride passed by in a blur, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself pressed against another elevator wall. It was hard to contain your moans as Heeseung made his way down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt until your bra was available to him. He fisted your breasts through the fabric, eliciting a lewd groan from you.

“Such a whore,” he jeered against your lips as he kissed you again. “Letting me touch you like this, undress you like this. You probably want to get caught, don’t you?” He groaned, grinding his growing hard-on against you through your clothes. You let out a noise at how hard he’d gotten, your mind swirling as continued to press himself against you. “Fuck, baby. You’re driving me crazy,” he sucked your earlobe, the sensation making you squirm.

When the elevator dinged, Heeseung made haste, tugging you into your apartment after fumbling with your keys. The door slammed behind you, and you felt the cool touch of wood against your back as he pressed you against it. He wasted no time kissing you deeply, hands roaming your sides as he pushed your shirt off completely. Your bra followed soon after, his expert hands unclasping it with ease. You barely caught sight of it being thrown haphazardly across the hall in a haze.

He tugged down your pants after popping the button, shoving them down your legs unceremoniously. You whined into his mouth, tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Letting go of your lips, he pulled the shirt over his head before coming back for more. You could get addicted to the way he kissed you, needy and full of desire. His lip ring pressed against your skin, the contrast making you sigh.

“Jump,” he mumbled against your lips before claiming them as his own once more. With ease, he hoisted your legs around his slim waist, pressing you harder against the door as he ground into you. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his clothed dick, your thin panties doing little to mask the sensation. You briefly wondered if your neighbours could hear you, but the thought left as soon as it came when Heeseung cupped your breasts roughly. “You remember the safe words?”

You nodded impatiently, moving your hips against his desperately. “Yes! Please, just fuck me,” you begged, trying and failing to feel more of him. Your hands dragged down his toned front, grasping onto his warmth like a parasite.

“Where’s your bedroom,” he asked, pulling away to look you in the eye. His bare chest heaved, his skin turning pink. The sight of Heeseung’s bruising lips and glossy eyes had you falling apart in his arms as you directed him to your bedroom.

You were less-than-gracefully dropped onto your mattress as Heeseung stood over you, unbuckling his belt. The light from the hallway illuminated him, casting a glow around his figure. His eyes never left your body, eyes roaming up and down as he rid himself of his trousers. You trained your sight on his bulge, his boxers doing little to hide his length.

“You’re mine,” he repeated, climbing over you slowly. “Mine. Your smile is mine. Your laugh is mine.” He cupped your boobs, circling your nipples with calloused thumbs as he watched you carefully. “These are mine.” Heeseung leaned forward, pressing his clothed cock against your cunt. “Fuck—this pussy’s mine too, yeah? You were made for me, all mine.”

You could only nod, not trusting your own voice, as he moved to pull your panties off. You whined when you felt the fabric stick to your folds, your slick acting like glue. Heeseung balled up the fabric, unceremoniously shoving it in your mouth. You whined, the noise coming out muffled as Heeseung pulled off his boxers, revealing his hard dick.

“You don’t need to talk,” he growled, leaning down to bite at your neck. “Clearly, you’re just a stupid bitch who doesn’t know when she should speak. Why else would you let that fuck flirt with you in front of me, huh?”

You shook your head adamantly, attempting to speak through your cum soaked panties.

“You think he knows that you’re laying here, spread out for me like this? Do you think he knows just how fucking wet you are for me?” He slapped your cunt as he spoke, causing you to jump. A sick look of pride took over his features at the sight of your glassy eyes, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. He dragged two fingers up your cunt from your weeping entrance up to your puffy clit.

“Shit,” he groaned at the touch. “Gonna make you mine. Gonna fill you with my cum, so everyone knows, yeah?” Using your slick as lube, he rubbed his shaft slowly, never taking his eyes off you. You lifted your hips off the bed, wanting nothing more than for him to rail you, but he was quick to push your body down, his large palm pressing against your tummy firmly.

You cried out as best you could when he rubbed the tip of his cock against your folds, collecting your juices as he fucked against your clit. He pressed the fat tip into your entrance, the familiar burn causing your eyes to roll back. He groaned lowly as he pressed himself into you, heaving when his hips met yours.

He watched as his cock slipped in and out of your clenched hole with ease, your heat sucking him in. Pushing your legs up against your chest, Heeseung steadied himself on his knees as he buried himself in your pussy. “Fuck,” he drawled out, his head thrown back in pleasure. Your eyes trailed down his neck, his Adam’s apple jutting out deliciously as he swallowed.

Pushing down on the back of your thighs, pressing your legs almost uncomfortably against your body, he moved with the same passion he used to kiss you in the car. You almost screamed, biting down on your soaked panties as he drilled into you. The sound of your wetness slipping against his cock was obscene, but God did Heeseung love it. He moved faster and faster, pistoling into you with an unrivalled enthusiasm.

Releasing one of your legs, he reached down to circle your clit, making you jolt up from the bed. You threw your head back, loud cries escaping your throat even through your improvised gag. “So fucking good for me,” Heeseung groaned, draping his body over you as he shoved his face into the crook of your neck. His pace never faltered, strong and hard thrusts pushing your body up the bed. “Fuck—! This fucking pussy was made for me.”

Without warning, he pulled your panties out of your mouth, now dripping with saliva. He dropped them somewhere on the bed, his hips slamming against yours as he kissed you. You moaned into the kiss, hands grabbing blindly at his back. “H-Heeseung!” You cried, burying your face into your comforter as hot tears burned the corners of your eyes.

“Come on,” he hushed, pressing against your clit faster. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you cream around my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?” You blabbered out nonsense, unable to make any coherent words as his hardness dragged along your gummy walls. You could feel the rope in your stomach tightening as his thrust became more desperate. His rhythm stayed constant, even as the back of his thighs burned and his cock twitched.

“F—uck,” he almost sobbed, his voice breaking as he fucked into you ruthlessly. “God, baby, feel so fucking good. Gonna cum inside, yeah?” His voice echoed in your ear, leaving goosebumps on your skin. You couldn’t tell if you were nodding or shaking your head to his words, your mind a mess, as all you could focus on was the feeling of his cock. “You’re gonna take it for me—shit—take it all. Don’t want any of it coming out.”

You felt something snap as you arched your back, your orgasm washing over you in brutal waves, like a tsunami crashing against your body over and over. You sobbed as Heeseung kept moving, never relenting in his pace as he chased his own release. His fingers kept circling your clit, even with your feeble attempts to push them away. “Heeseung,” you cried as overstimulation racked your body.

Heeseung swore under his breath, kissing you gently, contrasting his harsh thrusts. “I know, baby,” he sighed, sweat rolling down his face as he pecked your lips. “Just a bit longer for me, shit, you’re taking me so well.” He moaned loudly as he neared, gripping your hips tightly as he plunged into you.

He bit your shoulder as he came, ropes of thick cum painting your walls white. His hips stuttered, a quiet fuck, fuck, fuck spoken into your shoulder. Heeseung didn’t stop thrusting into you gently until his orgasm faded away, pressing his softening cock deeper into you. You could feel his cum seeping out of you, soft whimpers rumbling in your throat at the feeling.

His breath was heavy as he all but collapsed on you, using what little strength he had to hold himself up so he didn’t crush you. He left gentle kisses on the marks on your neck, making you shiver in sensitivity. He pressed a lingering peck against your lips before leaning back slightly to look you in the eye.

Heeseung shifted to move a stray hair out of your face, and you couldn’t help but melt at the way he was rubbing circles on your hip. Leaning up, your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him, wrapping tired arms around his nape as you brought his body flush against yours. The movement made him accidentally press against your clit, and the both of you moaned into the kiss. You swiped your tongue over his lip ring, sucking it into your mouth as you moved your hips slowly.

“You’re insatiable,” he mumbled against your lips. Despite his words, he felt himself grow hard when he glanced down at your shifting hips and the ring of white around his shaft.

“You love it,” you countered, holding him against your body tighter.

He scoffed, pressing a kiss against your forehead before rolling you over so that you were sitting on his lap, dick still inside. You squeaked when he took your hips and rolled you back and forth over his cock, your cunt still sensitive. “No more running away,” he rasped as he fucked up into you slowly.

You leaned down to kiss him once more in silent agreement.

©WONLOVIE please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

#wonlovie #enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung scenarios #heeseung #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #kpop #kpop smut #kpop x reader #kpop scenarios

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cripplecharacters · 3 months

Note

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hi!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. Prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the like... split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to signal that a character is two-faced or that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that? I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different! A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here, but like. Not Realism) - maybe it will give you some ideas!

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way! A fav of mine) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count! Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS! [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor! I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it:-)

Hope this helps!

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed!

#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference #art reference #tropes

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winterzsurprise · 1 year

Text

Take a seat || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!reader

Summary: Never in your wildest dream did you imagine having your husband ask you to sit on his face.

Tags: Face sitting, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, smut, NOT BETA READ.

Words: 1.2k

saw someone plead for this one lmao. They asked so nicely so I delivered, idk if this is how it usually goes tbh. This shit's so rushed but I guess I have to squeeze everything out before school starts again tomorrow aaaaaaaaaa

other than that, enjoy! Thank you all for your love on my fics aaaaaaaaaa im running out of header pics da;flkhwah

mi vida - my life || dios mio - my god || mi bella esposa - my beautiful wife || cariño - honey

“You want me to do what now?”

Miguel sighed exasperatedly as he facepalmed, embarrassed. “Don’t make me repeat mys—”

“No no no, I heard you loud and clear.” Which doesn’t mean you understand why all of a sudden. “But why?”

“Should I have any reason why I want you to sit on my face?”

In a gazillion universe, you’d never thought you’d hear those words come out of his lips. Sitting on his lap, you stared at the man incredulously to which he scowled at.

Usually, oral between you both are usually done with you underneath him as he pinned your thighs open and wide for him since he likes the control. To hear him ask you to sit on his face mid-foreplay shocked you.

You pinched your thigh, unconvinced by his sudden change of mind and Miguel sighed once more.

“Is it that hard to believe? Dios mio, if you don’t want to do it, just say it—”

“No no no, lay back down, I’m just processing.”

Excitement thrummed madly in your veins as you pushed the man back into the mattress. Excitement got you removing your underwear in a second before sitting back on his chest. It’s not fast enough apparently, when his strong arms hook under your legs and pull you directly on top of his lips.

Your breath got stuck into your throat. The mere feeling of his hot breath on your skin caused ripples of heat from your abdomen to your fingertips. You’ve always had orals before, it was something he’d never forget, yet there was something about sitting on top of his face that got you aroused more than ever.

“Go any slower and I would’ve thought you’d want to back out.”

“Not my fault. You’re so impatient.”

“A pretty girl sat on top of me, naked and wet, begging to be devoured. Do you think I’d ignore you, mi bella esposa?”

His dark voice, along with his fogged red eyes staring at you through his eyelash sent shivers down your spine, cheeks flushing beet red. You almost slapped the growing smirk off of his face at your flustered state.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you smell absolutely delicious.”

His arms locked around your thighs and you immediately knew you were done.

His tongue felt like silk gliding through your folds before rolling your clit in figures of eight. You sighed, throwing your head back as pleasure slithered down your spine at his every exhale fanning your skin.

There was something about the stings his stubbles brings as it scratches your skin along with the stimulation of his tongue that drive you crazy.

You swear you’re not a masochist by any means, yet when it comes to Miguel, every joy, sadness, pain and pleasure felt like a reward from the high heavens that you couldn’t help but accept with gratitude.

Your hand found stability in his dark locks, pulling and tugging his head closer to your heat, causing him to groan, the vibration seeping into your bones.

His hands roamed your body as if desperate to find a treasure in the unknown, nails dragging the skin from your back and down to the globes of your ass. The sting they left in their wake stirs your nerves awake, the pain mixing in with pleasure. You sighed, falling to lean on the piles of pillows as you dragged your clit with the point of his tongue.

Miguel wandered lower, tongue rolling around the rim of your entrance, sending electric jolts down your legs. You shivered as the sensation of his fangs rubbing against your folds, always so close yet so far away.

You gasped when the appendage plunged into your entrance, his large nose pushing into your clit as he pulled you closer to his face.

“Fuck…!”

“You taste divine.” He groaned. “Give me more.”

Bringing his hand down hard onto your ass, you whined. The stinging pain it left had your body singing for more and you knew Miguel was aware of the effect it has on you with how hard you clench on his silky appendage.

“Move.”

“Huh?”

Another sharp slap echoed in the living room, harder than the one earlier and you cried, hips stuttering forward on his flattened tongue.

“Ride me, cariño. Like you’ve always wanted.”

And you swear you’ve never heard anything more romantic than that.

With a smidge of hesitance, fearing you’d suffocate him, you rolled yourself on his tongue, eyes locked onto his darkened ones that dripped with desire. Still unsatisfied, his hand lands another hit on your skin and you move more desperately against him.

You cry as he starts to pick up the pace of his tongue, putting pressure onto your bead and shaking his head aggressively underneath you. He swats you once more when your hips stutter from the stimulation before clawing your flesh and grounding you further into his mouth.

“Harder.”

“I’m trying—Ah!”

Sneaking a hand below, he immediately inserts two digits inside of you. He spared no time hastening the speed of his thrusts while licking enthusiastically onto your clit making your eyes roll back.

Chasing the pleasure his fingers and mouth offered you, your hips rolled uncontrollably against his face. The obscene squelch echoing in the room would have embarrassed you, yet you couldn’t find it in you to flush.

The tight knot in your abdomen tightens as heat explodes from your chest and reaches down the tips of your limbs. You couldn’t do anything but cry as you tether closer to nirvana.

“I-I’m close.”

“Come for me, mi vida. Give it to me. I want it all.”

With his grounding arm reaching up to rake through your back along with his fingers and tongue, the knot unfurls and you come with a cry.

Suddenly, he had both arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from fluttering away from his ministrations. You gasped and pushed at his head but he paid no heed to them, rolling and shaking his tongue onto your clit as if trying to coax another climax from you.

“Miguel…!”

His nails digging into your flesh was the only answer you received and maybe the tug on his lips at your trembling thighs as well. It didn’t take long before pain started to blur with pleasure and your hips rocked against his tongue despite the protest of your heat with one hand tugging on his hair and the other holding on for dear life onto the headboard.

You didn’t have the mind to worry about his nose being blocked by your mon pubis, focused solely on your orgasm. With how he ground your hips onto his lips, you knew he didn’t mind.

And with a weak shout, you unravel, flesh and bones, on top of him. There’s a sound of something breaking in the haze, but paid no heed to it as you fall bonelessly onto the mattress. Miguel pulls away, gasping for air just as you turn to face the ceiling.

Your arousal drenching his face evoked something feral within you, the simmering desire in your stomach stirring awake once more. His eyes turned to the headboard and chuckled, reaching over to run his fingers over the dent with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I guess a Spider-Man will always be a Spider-Man.”

“Oh shut up.” You groaned, chucking a pillow on his face.

#miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #spiderman smut #spider man fics #spider man smut #marvel fics #marvel smut

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jo-com · 2 months

Note

Welp I just read the other woman and j needed a second part! Like either a good or bad ending

I am in such need 🙏🙏🙏

⋆｡˚ 🩹༝༚➛ Healed

Charles Leclerc x Ex!fem!reader x Alexandra Saint Mieux

Summary: Part 2 of The other woman

Genre: Jealous Charles and Alex, A little bit of SMAU, Angsty but also fluff

Fc: Alexa Demie

Note: Thanks for the support for the first part!! Hope you guys like this

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ༘˚⋆🍯 ｡⋆─ ───────

After endless months of isolation and loneliness— you’ve decided to finally move on and slowly let yourself be free from the traumatic experience, that you once called ‘love’.

While moving on doesn’t mean that you’ve erased them from your heart— they’re still there, alongside the precious memories that the three of you all shared. Those moments that were both good and bad, will forever be embedded into your heart and soul.

You’ve also been trying to put yourself out more; Going out with friends and spending more time with family.

But at the same time, building back the walls that they have broken— by treating and loving yourself in a way that they used to do but stopped half way. It was now time for you to heal and find solace by your own.

From buying comfort foods to expensive things, it all made you a tiny bit better. The hurt was still evident but was now slowly fading into a memory— a memory that you wish to forget.

Only by loving yourself will make amends from the broken heart that they have caused.

…

Then unexpectedly you met someone. Two people actually.

You said love will never bloom again but meeting them says otherwise. Your once dead heart was now slowly opening up to someone again, it was hard at first, but they made sure that you are as comfortable and safe around their embrace.

…

Alex_albon

Liked by lilymhe, Landonorris, and 2,489,012 others

Alex_albon finally found our other half🌷

Tagged; @Miss.yn, @lilymhe

View all comments

Username1 EXCUSE ME??

Username2 sir what??

Carlossainz55 so glad that you’re happy @/Miss.yn

Miss.yn they make me happy!

Lilymhe aww babyy🥹

Alex_albon @/Miss.yn💋💋💋

Username3 finally someone who doesn’t hide her in the dark🙄

Username4 Fr she deserved better

Username5 why is she alway leeching of on couples

Sydney_sweeney FINALLY

Username6 i love them alrdy

Username7 in the shadows no more!!

…

➛ Message (Between Alex and Charles)

…

Alex’s post blowed up in all the social media platforms; leaving people curious and wanting for more information. For them it was an unexpected match, no one ever thought about it, but seeing you guys together just felt right in a way.

You were also surprised at their reaction, thinking that they would be against it like in your past relationships. I mean there were still haters but there are more people supporting you than before. You were so happy.

Everything was going great— you’re heart felt full once again and you were no longer hiding in the shadows; you were, you and were loved by two people who aren’t afraid to show you off.

It was all doing okay, well not until Alex and Charles contacted you; asking you if you were doing well and chatting other formalities as if you guys were okay. They never did do that when you guys broke up, not a single “are you okay?” Text from either one of them.

Now when you’re finally happy they decided to talk? Tsk

…

You let out a heavy sigh, a feeling of relief crashing down on you. Closures were never your thing but in this case, it was freeing. You were no longer in the shackles of sorrow that they’ve made. You were free.

A smile of contentment stretched along your face— your thoughts running back to you two new lovers who were there for you, through lows and highs.

…

Miss.yn

Liked by lilymhe, Carlossainz55 and 4,290,129 others

Miss.yn Meeting you guys is a dream come true🫀

Tagged; @lilymhe, @Alex_albon

View all comments

Lilymhe STOP I AM BLUSHING🤭

Lilymhe I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

Username8 take notes on how to love someone @/Charles_Leclerc

Alexandrasaintmieux so happy for u..

Username9 now this is love!

Username10 i hope this love last🤩

Alex_albon my two babies🌷

Miss.yn 😍😍😍

Lilymhe STOP YN IS MINE

Username11 HELP WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABT THE LAST PIC??

Username12 fr they lowkey making out and don’t give a shit😭😭

…

Sorry for not updating so much, my school started and it’s hard to multitask, I promise to do more🙏🏻

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rel124c41 · 2 months

Text

LABORATORY LOVE. jade leech

It makes perfect sense that you are failing potionology, you come from a world without magic! You just wished your failures weren’t the recent entertainment to a certain vice-housewarden.

tags: developing relationship, character analysis, teeth analysis, teasing, potion accidents, 5 + 1 trope, comedy of errors, suggestive themes, & getting together

word count: 21,656

Since the beginning of your impromptu enrollment in Night Raven College, classes have taken your dizzy brain and swirled it around like mixed cake batter. Uncaring of your blunders, the courses march on. You have had multiple professors pull you aside for hush conversations about how: magic might not be something you should be studying; you’re showing great difficulty with this section, my door’s open for extra help; do you have any hobbies, perhaps you should look to pursue one of those.

You wonder if they knew you were from another world entirely along with being magicless, their tone might change. Compared to others, you were leaps and bounds above where you should be.

Not that you are aware of your competence. And, even then, it is never enough. Which is admittedly very frustrating. You do not like to be viewed as a failure or incompetent.

Back at home, you were always on top of your studies, kept yourself afloat on a little canoe. In Twisted Wonderland, your limbs grow fatigue with how harshly you have to tread water to stay afloat. Constantly, you felt ready to drown. You manage to withstand it though, avoiding going under by keeping water a fine line across your chin and bottom lip.

And, even then, that is never enough.

I. The scarab beetle was added before ginger root when the correct order is ginger root then scarab.

To be fair, you are tired beyond belief. You had to pull off your gloves multiple times to rub sleep out of your eyes. Switching up the order of the ingredients … This is one of the stupider mistakes you have made in Professor Crewel’s class. To be thoroughly fair, the anxiety about your recent situation coupled with sleeping on the uncomfortable spare bed in Leona’s room has been starting to kill your restful nights.

What a well devised strategy. Chip away at the mental fortitude of a person by taking away physical comforts. Azul Ashengrotto truly knows where to point the arrow notched in his bow.

You just wish he had chosen anyone other than you.

Yawning, you deposit the comatose scarab beetle into the cauldron. One second it is a black freckle on the gray-blue mixture, and then the next second it has been dissolved down to the bone. It ate it as quickly as acid does, you think awestruck, I’m glad I’m wearing gloves. Said gloved hand holds itself outstretched towards Ace, your lab partner, as you murmur, “Okay, hand me the ginger root now.”

“Huh? I already handed you that though,” Ace says, looking up from the logs of cinnamon he is cutting as instructed.

Usually you two have Grim do the physical labor, cutting up ingredients, while you and Ace uptake harder tasks. However, Grim is not free, called in for an impromptu shift during school hours. Part of you cannot comprehend how that is possible – to work during school – but another part of you cannot comprehend magic, so really the whole globe, this Twisted Wonderland, is incomprehensible.

An incomprehensible globe where you make friends with the stupidest of the bunch.

“No you didn’t; you handed me the next ingredient that had to go in.”

“Yeah, which was ginger root. Don’t tell me the fumes in here are making you stupider, Prefect. Your brain fried or something,” Ace asks. He tilts his head in a taunting way that is not effective due to the anemone sprouting from his skull.

“Says the one with the anemone coming out of his brains.”

“Hey! Just because you’re being forgetful doesn’t mean ya get to insult me!”

“Please don’t play smart with me right now. I just need —.” Your words fall out of your mouth as you catch the sight of ginger root sitting pretty on your side of the lab table, untouched and not in the potion. You blank, dumb, until a sudden heat wave washes over you.

Not a blush though you realize as a smoke cloud of brimstone blooms up mushroom-like from your cauldron. Your once squinting eyes widen in fear.

The potion releases a wave of gas as it evaporates away in seconds. It feels like getting punched with heat after opening an oven. As you stand there looking at the bottom of your cauldron, mourning your potion, you suddenly hear laughter in the midst of this new humidity.

“... No — HAHAHA — No fucking way! HAHAHAHAHA!!”

Dread fills you first upon hearing it. Whatever has Ace laughing and pointing at you is definitely not a positive in your book. Sevens above, you are not dealing with being potion-ed cat ears again. It must be something physical on you at very least. Because, Ace has not stopped pointing and bursts out between his bellows, “Now you match the part of looking like an idiot! HAHAHA!”

Annoyance quickly shoves dread to the side. Gut-instinct guides your hand before your brain can catch up. Clutching ginger root, you reel back your arm ready to whack Ace with it until a certain hand shackles your wrist. Shit.

“Ace! (Name)! Once again, this is unacceptable behavior from both of you. Did your parents pick you off the streets and neglect training?” Ah, you recognize those dog analogies anywhere. Curling in on yourself, you turn around to give Professor Crewel a sheepish smile while he keeps your wrist hostage.

“Sorry, Professor Crewel.”

You would be delusional to think your potionology professor has a soft spot for you; he probably only sees you as a nippy Pomeranian or a Retriever freshly showered in mud. The scowl on his face is something you have come to be familiar with from August to November.

Crewel sighs, “Luckily, these supplies are not hard to obtain. I’ll be sending both of you to fetch more ginger root and scarabs from the botanical gardens.” His steely eyes aim at you. “And Prefect, I suggest retrieving a hat for yourself. An unsightly look is one step away from a disorganized headspace. Try to be a bit more mindful, pup.”

“Yes, Professor Crewel.”

You have no idea where the fashion advice came from. However, you are not going to dig yourself a deeper hole by asking the Professor what he means by unsightly look and disorganized head. Besides with the way Ace is still biting down a grin, you expect that you will privy to it soon.

“Dismissed.” Professor Crewel sends you on your way.

As soon as you two round the cauldron, you and Ace are both immediately on one another. He grabs the back of your neck as you kick his shin. Idiot! No you’re an idiot! Says the idiot! Ace pinches your cheek as you give him a Chinese burn, grabbing his forearm and twisting it in your grip. I can’t believe you messed that up! At least I’m not signing contracts to cheat! Stumbling to the door, kicking and fighting with each other, you just barely catch the glimpse of Deuce sending a wince of sympathy your way.

Ace sticks his finger in your ear. His spit-coated touch sends a shiver down your spine. Breaking your whispering, you caterwaul just as you push Ace and yourself out of Crewel’s classroom, “I’m gonna kick you where the sun don’t shine, asshat!” Ace’s cackles are the last thing the classroom hears before the door shuts firmly in place.

The botanical gardens are not somewhere you find yourself often. The mere size of it intimidates you greatly. Plus, it has so many dangerous things lurking inside of it like lion tails, man-eating plants, and carrots that when plucked incorrectly can send you into a coma just from a single scream. For your own growing trepidation, you choose to stay out for safety reasons.

Though splitting up is not your idea, you still concede to it. The guilt over your sleep-addled mistake speeds up your agreement. After all, it was you who switched the order. Thus, you walk around the botanical gardens looking to grab dandelion root (which came before the scarab beetle and ginger root) while Ace gathers a single scarab beetle.

At least Ace takes up the more perilous task for you. Scarab beetles when provoked flicker on and off in a brilliant light display of red until it explodes. If the mage cannot match the rhythm of beeping reds with the light of their magic pen, the scarab self-destructs. It is hazardous for you to anywhere near an alive scarab. Besides …

Danger finds you like a faithful, old friend.

Standing on the little bridge that curves over the miniature river, danger arrives at your side like a mistress. “So pretty,” someone whispers breathlessly. You choose to ignore this, thinking someone is appreciating the flowers. Pamphlet in hand, you worry your bottom lip and consider which side of the bridge you have to walk down to find the dandelion roots.

“He-Hello there, Prefect. Quite a nice day for a stroll, don’t you think?”

Caught off guard, you turn to see who is addressing you. It is one of those Octavinelle twins. He holds an empty jar in his gloved hand. However, you are unsure of which one you are dealing with.

“Ah … yeah,” you twitch as you respond. Where the hell is Ace? You would rather not be alone with a mage that you saw send multiple students to the infirmary only two days ago. You remember it vividly: all the students rushing forward to tear up the contract, as Azul stood on the table, saying with fake direness, “Dear me, I really didn’t want to resort to violence, but alas. Jade. Floyd. Play with them for a bit.”

You shift your eyes away like one might avert the gaze of a stumbling, rabid raccoon. “Sure is … a nice day?” Truthfully, you don’t think you have had one of those in Twisted Wonderland. Your day has just gotten worse in the twin’s presence.

Under the canopy of black walnut leaves and palm washingtonias, you assess all your escape routes. Whichever twin this is, he is looking at you so intensely, eyes half-lidded and the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks. It takes only a moment for you to realize he is staring at what lies on your head, but you have enough time to map your escape route.

“Well, it was nice seeing you –,” you start, heading down the bridge, in the opposite direction of the Octavinelle twin. You just barely make it a step and a half when he catches you off guard again.

“You have Potionology this period, yes? It is a Wednesday after all.” How the hell does he know that?

Yet, hearing how he structures his words, you think you finally recognize which one it is … Jade, who had said to you just yesterday, “And if you’re in need of lodgings, feel free to come and speak with us. Reservations for guest rooms in Octavinelle dorm starts at 100 thaurmarks a night.” The last conversation that happened between you two. Eyes pinching down, you think, he’s such an asshat for saying that to you who is very much broke beyond broke.

“Yeah, I do.” You resume your steadyfast escape route. You can clearly hear Jade walk over the wooden bridge, following after you.

“If my deduction is correct, it seems you have been caught up in the potion accident. What a most unfortunate turn of events; potionology is often a tricky subject for students to grasp.”

Yeah, and without magic or a basic education on this stuff, it’s impossible for me. You send Jade a wary glance. Now matching strides, you really have no choice but to converse with him or your friends will probably suffer more during their shifts. “Yeah, I messed one up.”

But no one says you have to be verbose during it.

You ponder on why Jade is so interested in the multiple sea anemones blooming from your head. When your scuffle with Ace finally ebbed, the Heartslabyul student turned on his front-facing camera so you could finally see what made you look like an idiot. A glowing crown of blue sea anemones form around your head.

You cringed, your matching visage on Ace’s phone doing the same. Of course you are not spared any break from humiliation; when you come back to your temporary lodgings, Leona is probably going to laugh up a sandstorm. Ugh … you hate that stupid lion!

Jade says, “I’ve noticed this happens to you frequently. In August, you gained cat ears and could only speak in crying meows. You were deaged down to a toddler on September 14th. Then in October, you underwent a body swap with your friend, Ace Trappola, for a full five days; Thursday through Monday. Am I correct?” How the absolute fuck does he know that?

“...Yeah.”

“You know, Octavinelle is always willing to help those in need. I, myself, can offer –”

“No thanks.” You glance at the pamphlet and take a sharp left turn. Jade follows.

“My, what a harsh rejection. How audacious of you to deny me when I am scheduled to train Deuce and Ace later on tonight. But, I suppose if that is how you feel –”

Begrudgingly, you turn around and frown, “Be easy on them, won’t you? Bye, Jade.” Snapping your pamphlet open wider, you continue on your way.

What an idiot. You already stuck your neck out enough for them by signing Azul’s contract. Keeping polite conversation with Jade? You could do that. However, you will not take up another deal with Octavinelle anytime soon, unless … well, no, you think to yourself. That hovering ‘unless’ probably won’t happen with Jade. Whatever Jade needs, he can find elsewhere.

Dandelion roots should just be down a little farther; another right turn and you should be upon them. At least that is how your route would have gone if you were not grabbed and spun around by your shoulders. You stare into Jade’s dilated eyes in shock.

“Prefect,” his voice comes out more growl than speech. He soothes his fake humanitarianism voice with a cough and repeats, “Prefect. Just hear me out.” The vice-housewarden almost sounds desperate to keep your attention on him.

“Okay.” You try to ignore the close-lipped smile on his face as you fold up your pamphlet. “Okay.” Dandelion roots are one of the few non-sentient plants in this twisted wonderland, so you can pause your search for Professor Crewel for a mere moment. “I messed up a potion today, but I don’t need your help with it.”

Tutoring … from anyone. You despise the very thought. Before, you were so capable and so independent; now, you have to waver and bend yourself to the assistance of everyone in this alien world. God, you cannot even protect yourself from your day to day. The entire world outscales you like a final boss compared to a NPC.

“Are you absolutely certain? Who knows what kind of misfortune can fall upon you at the hands of a botched potion? Who knows, you could find yourself breathing in poisonous gas or having your intestines turned inside out. What an excruciating sensation.”

A whole body shiver runs down your spine. The fact that that is not out of the realm of possibility makes you loathe your existence in this world even more. Still … “What do you want from me?” … you have Ace and Grim at least making sure you aren’t blown to bits by an exploding cauldron.

“It is just a simple matter of the fungus growing from your head.”

“Fungus?”

Jade’s voice turns so fond that it startles another shiver from you. His lovestruck gaze fastens itself to the apparent mushroom crown sitting on your skull. “Entoloma Hochstetteri mushrooms. The non-scientific name is blue pinkgills.”

Bored and tired, you yawn. Jade glances down at your mouth with pervertish intrigue. It might just be the same amatory he regards the blue pinkgills with staying in his eyes. However, you can imagine him mocking you about having to sleep in Leona Kingscholar’s room so you screw your mouth into a frown.

And, as if reading your body language with ease, Jade offers, “If you are still having troubles with your lodging, I’d benevolently suggest a trade.”

“A trade?”

“A room in Octavinelle, free of charge; all to yourself and your dire-beast for the full two days left in your contract. In exchange, you will give me the Entoloma Hochstetteri blooming from your head. An item for another item. Fair, yes?”

“No.” You straighten your posture. “I want something everlasting; not just temporary satisfaction.”

“Oya? Whatever did you have in mind?”

This is something you have been pondering about for a while. Truthfully, you were considering it your very first week after the encounter with the overblotted creature in the mines. Taking a deep breath, you announce your only term, “I want protection against overblots.”

Jade’s optics grow, dilating and blinking in surprise. It is … simultaneously an extremely well thought out and dumb request. Protection is something you need. But with Jade, someone you barely just met, providing you protection? You neither seem like the type to trust people too quickly or too hold out trust until the very end.

Immediately on detective mode, Jade tries to figure out your aim. “Overblots are very rare phenomenon. Do you –?”

“Tell me more about these pinkgills,” you suddenly interrupt, noticing that he is slipping into doubt over this deal.

A hand covers over his erratic heart, and a small sliver of teeth peek through his smile. “Ah, I’d be delighted to. Blue pinkgills are quite mysterious. No one knows if they are edible because no one has dared to try them. There is a peninsula that features them on their currency as well. It is the only country to have a piece of currency featuring a mushroom on it; I’d be delighted to have the opportunity to visit it someday.”

“That’s really interesting. Are they rare to cultivate,” you ask, faking genuine curiosity.

“Unfortunately, yes. They are native to that one peninsula and thus –”

“Hard to come by? Rare?”

You supply Jade with the words he is looking for. Subtly, you remind him of the fact these limited mushrooms are just a person’s deal away. The blue halo on your head becomes more and more enticing to Jade by the second. Blue that also bleeds with the color, such a psychedelic hue that almost hurts to look at.

You look like an angel under it … You? Jade hesitates at his train of thought; that is not the conclusion he thought his mind would go to.

“What a surprise fufu; you are not as brainless as I intentionally presumed, (Name).” Smitten emotion slowly drains from his dual-eyes as he takes in your visage whole, not just the prize hanging above your head.

This is good. Jack could protect me but he is only a first year mage. Ace and Deuce do a good enough job. Grim is only food motivated. Jade did send multiple students to the infirmary by himself. This – “I’m glad to prove such an intelligent mage such as yourself wrong. It’s the first time I have ever done so.” – This is good. This deal will keep me alive and safe.

Jade shakes the hand you have offered up to him. However, before you can end the contact, he yanks you towards him. A groan of pain bleeds from you as you are pulled chest to chest with him. Chin pinched skyward by his other hand, you look into two halos, one gold and the other umber.

Right away, you clock it as an intimidation tactic, so you do not let yourself appear frightened. Compared to those overblots you faced …

“However, it would not be fair if I did not receive something everlasting as well. Not just temporary satisfaction.”

Subtle eyes dart around the botanical gardens, trying to find Ace, but halos are all you see. “Okay, what do you want on your end?”

“It is quite common for you to find yourself caught up in the misfortune of a poorly made potion. I want to be there – to watch you struggle and to watch you be powerless. That is all you need to give me.”

“I … I can do that.”

“Then, it’s a deal.”

When you met Jade officially in the cafeteria, you picked up his subtle habit of bringing his hooked index finger up to his mouth before he could smile too wide. When meeting with Azul in the VIP Room, he was very subdued and subservient unlike his twin, listening instead of laughing and nodding along instead of nagging vexed. Now when making a deal with the vice-housewarden, you find yourself peering through a tear in the fabric that envelops him day to day.

For the first time ever, you get to see Jade smile with all his teeth. They curl down and up, reminding you almost of cat claws, with an acute sharpness in each individual tooth. They ensnare you.

II. Your basilisk's egg was not incubated at the correct temperature of 2300 degrees fahrenheit.

Your basilisk’s egg is colder than the collective’s by many, many degrees. Honestly, you blame this one on Professor Crewel for not putting the much needed comma between the two and the three; it was completely natural of you to assume 230 degrees fahrenheit was correct when 2,300 is an outrageous temperature. Regular incubators in your world could not even reach that level of heat!

When you cracked the unfertilized eggs of a serpent king into the cauldron, you sheepishly noticed how much lighter the shade of red yours is compared to others. Almost the pink of a flamingo’s feathers, not red like cranberries, not red like everyone else’s.

Already too late though; the pink-hued yolk has already sludged into the cauldron. Gravity, such a conniving bastard. You can only watch helplessly as impact is made; the eggshell in your hand is now empty.

Then, all the liquid in your cauldron rises up like a geyser.

“Woah!”

“Holy shit!”

“(Name)!”

Ducking behind your hands, you yell back at Ace, “I didn’t!” That is all you get out before the potion shower lands all over you. You spit out what got into your mouth, “mean to … bleh!”

Magenta sludge drips off your uniform in thick plopping sounds. It is the consistency of a milkshake and you shiver when you realize some has definitely gone down the back of your shirt.

“Why are both of you clean,” you whine, disassembling the poorly made umbrella your hands made. They drop away from your temple, coated in magenta. Shaking the potion off your gloves, you frown at seeing how both Ace and Grim are unaffected by the geyser that just drenched you. The clumps of potion in your hair make your frown evolve into a grimace.

Grossed out at the sight of you, Ace winches and waves around his magic pen. “Used-a protection spell. Dude, you look ridiculous, haha. Doesn’t that burn?”

“No, it’s oddly really cold.”

Definitely the consistency and temperature of a milkshake. You strip yourself of your gloves, carefully folding them inside out. “Ugh, this is going to take forever to wash off.” You do not even know which part of your body to start shaking off like a dog. Your one good lab-coat and your one good uniform, ruined and presumably stained.

An alert shiver zigzags up your spine, and you turn around just in time to see Professor Crewel come out of his horrified stupor.

As he stands up from his desk, you get this overwhelming urge to run away. You have to physically focus on planting your feet down so this psoriasis itch does not cause you to turn tail and flee. It’s my fault, so I need to accept punishment. Unconvinced by your self-loathing, your body shakes in jitters, ready to rush out of the room should mental resistance let up.

You are unaware of it, but those emotional cactus pricks of needing to run away from danger will follow you all day long today.

Once finally released from Crewel’s classroom — you had to scrub down everything from the floor, use the emergency shower to peel sludge out your hair, and are given the briefest pat of sympathy on the shoulder — you run into Ace on his way to his club meeting. Is it really that late, you think. Grim left to attend all your other classes, skimping out on the cleanup that was ‘so not his fault! see ya!’ Now you wander, weighing if you should go to Octavinelle first or Ramshackle first. Find Grim or Find Jade?

“Can I join ya,” you ask as you slot yourself next to Ace in the hallway. If Floyd is at practice, you might be able to ask him where Jade is which ends the search for one person. However, it a mute point when you realize:

“It’s kinda a coin-toss if Floyd shows up or not,” Ace responds to your question, both of you standing in the doorway of the gymnasium. Where’s Floyd was what you had asked. Diligently, you search the crowd now. With his height he should be easy to spot; you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. There is really no way you can contact Jade as you do not have his number or know his schedule.

What an asshat. You bet Jade just loves the idea of you squirming around to find him. While he can descend on you like a vulture without any forewarning with his sixth sense for entertainment, you have a harder time locating him.

Without any warning, you suddenly sidestep away from Ace. The redhead raises an eyebrow curiously before his expression drops in shock. In the spot where you were standing, Floyd trips and hits the ground hard.

“Woah!!” You and Ace shout in unison.

On the ground, Floyd has the same expression of shock that you two do. Though, it slowly morphs to sadness as he rubs the back of his skull. Seated on the gymnasium floor, rubbing his bruise, Floyd grumbles sullenly, “Why ya do that, Shrimpy? I just wanted to squeeze ya. Haven’t seen you all December.”

Ignoring that, you ask, “Floyd, do you know where Jade is?”

“Ya wanna see Jade?” That relights the eel’s energy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t – which is probably a lot of things, considering where you come from and where you are. “Sure, I’ll take ya. I wasn’t feelin’ basketball practice anyways.”

So, thus you end up following Floyd and Ace like a duckling. Thinking to yourself that this will have to be what happens more in the future. Find someone who knows where Jade is, glue yourself to his side after you messed up a potion, conclude a trail of test runs that borderline on torture. Yet … it is worth it to some extent.

Vividly, you recall each instance where Jade Leech put himself between you and your faithful friend, Danger. He protected you with a variety of spells the first years have not learned yet in NRC’s curriculum. It really is a valuable deal.

After Azul Ashengrotto’s overblot, talk between you and Jade has been sparse. It is not like the two of you are going to become friends. A mouse does not become buddy-buddy with a cat. There will never be mutualism between the two species.

Your train of thought slowly ebbs when you realize Floyd, Ace, and yourself are nearing up on Jade. Floyd seems to be crouching forward, in a way that you assumed he did earlier when trying to ambush and scare you at the gym’s entrance. This should be interesting, seeing if Floyd could succeed in getting the jump on his twin. At least it would have been if you didn’t feel like a sword sliced down your spine, spreading heat all over the planes of your body.

“Shit!” You shriek, rushing and bumping into Floyd, seconds before someone yells:

“Hey! Look out!”

In the exact spot you were standing, a framed portrait makes a crashing descent. Well, it would have been crashing if not for a lilac spell wrapping itself around the portrait. Quick and alert, Jade holds out his magic pen, levitating the talking portrait while you and Floyd gather your bearings.

“Geez, Shrimpyyy, what was that for,” Floyd groans, rubbing his arm with a sour look. “You’ve been more like a jumpin’ fish than a shrimp. All skittish and squirmy.”

“I’m sorry, I just felt – Jade, cut it out!”

It is not that Jade is doing anything particularly mischievous. However, when the spell rotates the portrait to face you instead of with its back facing all of you, a shiver that is painful and palpable burns all your pores. The portrait is of a lich, rotted gray skin with curling yellow horns and piercing red eyes.

The voice that comes from the portrait sounds like dark corners of a dangerous night. “What are you mortals looking at?”

Run away, each branch of the nervous system agrees in unison. Terrified, you push off Floyd and rush behind Jade, innately remembering he is supposed to protect you.

“Wh-What are you doing, (Name)?” Ace asks, glancing at you in confusion.

The Horned King seems just as skeptical towards you. Jade, raising a perfect eyebrow, looks back at your cowering form and the portrait.

You can see all the calculations erasing, rewriting, and improving themselves in his head. His million and one hypotheses about the world around him.

“Hm, this is curious,” Jade murmurs just as the person who dropped the portrait calls out:

“My bad man. Stupid spell.” Over the railing of the stairwell, the student setting up the portraits sends you all an apologetic look. Then, noticing the nefarious grin on the vice-housewarden’s face, says quicker, “I’m so sorry about that!”

“Nonsense, I think this has caused an interesting revelation.” Slowly, Jade levitates the portrait up to the student who is very skittish to carry it on with his own spell. “Prefect, how do you feel right now?”

“I don’t know how to describe it … Like a bunch of fire ants just crawled on my skin and bit me all at once.”

“Seems you do know to articulate your thoughts.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Jade.”

He smiles as if you have just complimented him. “Did you mess up a potion beforehand?”

Your eyes squint in suspicion. “Yeah, I uncooked my basilisk egg. How did you know I messed one up though?”

“Simply an observation. I think the potion causes you to have a heightened sensitivity to danger. You knew when danger was coming and rushed away from it. Foresight?”

“I suppose, who knows,” you say, watching the portrait like a bunny in a burrow might watch a predator, waiting for it to slip away to another area. Tension ebbs from you as the other student takes it and begins his task of rearranging them. You step out of the protective shadow of Jade Leech.

“Who knows,” you repeat, intrigued. “Maybe if I mess up a potion like this again, I can call our deal off. I won’t need your help.” A smile comes up to your face, imagining yourself independent.

Jade only scowls. You wonder whatever for but —

“What did you do to mess up the potion, (Name)! Please, I need it! This would be like an alarm for whenever Riddle’s nearby! I could get away with so much!” Ace squeezes your shoulders with a bruising intensity.

Ripping yourself from him, you stumble back. A soft ‘ow’ parts your mouth when you collide with something, spine to chest. Jade’s gloved hands come down upon your shoulders unexpectedly, pinning you in place. “Basilisk eggs are a delicacy. They aren’t hard to obtain but they are certainly pricey. However, if you are ever serious about your inquiry, Ace … Azul’s office is always open to help.”

It seems that Ace’s sense of danger is alive and well too, for he takes several steps back at Jade’s words. “Well … when you put it like that, heh. I suppose I’m alright.” His eyes shift to the hold Jade has on your shoulder, not shaken off or side-stepped.

“But you were so eager before.” Jade frowns, putting on an act. He looks awful sorry to see Ace skirter away like a crab poked by sticks at the beach. It is a mere masquerade.

“Naah, I’m good. Have fun, (Name)!”

“Ha-Have fun?!” You sputter indignant.

But Ace has already left with Floyd in tow. Basketball practice waits for no man. Left alone in the hallway, you shudder in the delicate embrace of a dangerous predator.

“Have fun … what an appropriate saying.” Jade leans down over you with a smile. You should have known from that smile alone it was going to be bad. And it proves to be bad! Because, of course, it has to do with mushrooms again.

Jade takes you hiking. Apparently, his club starts around the same time as Floyd, and Jade is nothing but meticulous about schedules. So, you are going to be alone in the mountains with Jade … it does not take a magical potion to know that it is a new episode of a true crime podcast waiting to happen.

You tell the three Ramshackle ghosts if you do not come back to treat Grim kindly as you zipper up the hoodie Jade said you would need. The knock on your building’s door sends a shiver down your spine that burns. Like a lightning bolt of prickling pain that makes each pore tingle with fire. You are starting to regret this contract.

“So what exactly am I going to be doing?” You ask Jade as you two make your way down a beaten trail. A heightened sense of danger seems quite trivial for a walk in the woods.

“I was rolling the traits of the potion over in my head,” Jade says, his back to you as he leads the way. “And I was thinking, what a perfect opportunity to unearth the mystery of blue pinkgills.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one has gathered up the courage to test if they are poisonous or not. Being poisoned is an obvious endangerment to a body’s health, don’t you agree?”

“You can’t be serious.” His back never turns. “Jade, no way!”

The smile in his voice is palpable as he teases, “I am only joking. After your potion wore off, the blue pinkgills you gifted me decayed instantly.”

You breathe a short-lived sigh of relief. “However, that doesn’t mean your potion can’t be utilized on this hike.”

“I’m not going to eat a single mushroom.” You vow.

“Nothing of the sort. The hypothesis I want to test out is a bit different.”

Hypothesis? This relationship via contract is akin to a type of scientist’s experiment. Before you can think about the roles of yourself and Jade, your entire body is engulfed with a terrible sense of burning like each particle suddenly was torn in two. It is an appropriate reaction when you realize an entire uprooted tree is rocketing towards you with high-speed velocity.

“Shit!” You shriek. That is far as your body stays your own. Each atom of the muscular system is possessed by the potion. The potion puppets your body and you find yourself successfully leaping over the horizontal tree-trunk. One hand plants itself on the wood; your legs bunch up to your stomach and then you are catapulting yourself over a log.

When you plant yourself on the opposite side, feet landing perfectly, your gaze hardens into a glare. “What the hell, Ja–!” An uprooted bush tries to ambush you. Shrieking, the potion puppets all but your fearful vocal cords.

“Now, let’s see,” Jade muses, waving his magic pen. His gold and olive eyes study you. “If I attack from both the front and the back, does it react simultaneously?”

“Jade!”

“Excellent, it does,” Jade celebrates with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

So, thus it begins. Your first real experiment with Jade and he is throwing an entire forest at you. Frantically, your body jumps and leaps out of the way of roots that try to sweep your legs and rocks that try to cut your arms. You even do a front flip to avoid a particular rock being thrown at you. You don’t know how to do flips unless on a trampoline! Nine of our ten times, you land on your butt performing them; yet, on solid ground you just completed your first front flip on land. Precise yet abusive, your body is puppeted by the potion and Jade’s ministrations.

If you had known you were going to be attacked, you would have never chosen Jade as your protector.

Suddenly, in the hurricane of foliage and earth, all it changes track and aims away from you. Each individual part – rock, tree branch, colt of dirt, flower and mushrooms – splits. Ignoring your body, the hurricane slips behind you in a frenzy. Wind magic maneuvers your hair in the same direction of all that flying fauna. Then, a fist is in front of your face.

Your body does not dodge. Rather, it plants itself like stone, sensing all the danger is gone.

You hear all the uprooted discord crashing behind you. Each rock lands like a meteor into the ground, tree branches nosedive down like crashed airplanes, and flowers are shredded apart like brittle paper. It is like when the hatch of a truck’s cargo bed opens on the highway, everything crashing yet the front seat is all calm. All is calm besides the paused fist inches from your nose.

Jade’s leather gloves. The ridges where leather sits to make the indents and folds of his knuckles. You are not graced much time to analyze the sight, to analyze the fist that most certainly would have broken your nose into a bloody pulp.

Deliberately, Jade straightens out. A lot of momentum had been used when rushing towards you, aiming his gloved fist like a tracking missile. Unraveling himself from his crouching position slowly, his dual-colored eyes fix you with an intrigued look. He withdraws his fist to rest by his side. “Hm.”

Now that everything is tranquil, you realize how ragged your breath is as you question back, “Hm?”

“The spell did not have you jump out of the way when I went to attack you. Perhaps it could not differentiate between all the foliage around and a person.” The same hand, that would have swirled up all your nasal tendons and bones into some crude red salad, moves to rest quizzically under his chin.

Chest pounding, you spit out, “I don’t get it.”

A diagram blooms by the left side of Jade’s head. Despite your words not being an invitation to explain, he does deliberately like you are some foolish student. Like you are someone stupid. He is probably using some elementary magic too, two figures, one red and one blue, appearing from the simple spell. “It is quite simple,” he says slowly.

Asshat, you think.

“Since your botched potion has increased your sense of danger, I decided to test what kind of variables would get a reaction from you.” On the diagram, the red figure has wormlike lines squirming out of its head.

“I threw a wide variety at you: clumps of dirt, mushrooms, tree branches to whole trees, even the smallest flowers you would dodge.” In the hand of the blue figure, a gold ring has surrounded his fist and crude drawings of all that Jade listed start to throw themselves at the red figure. Wildly panicked, the red figure hops and twirls around to avoid everything. “However,” Jade continues, a frown forming.

“When I added myself to the mix,” the blue figure suddenly appears in front of the red figure, posed like a superhero about to punch through an impenetrable wall, as all the crude drawings of rocks and trees clatter to the diagram’s ground, “I anticipated the usual reaction,” the red figure finds itself in comatose, “the reaction changed though. You didn’t move. In fact, you stood there almost confidently.”

By now, you finally manage to get your breathing under control. With your first solid breath, the diagram of magic starts to flicker into nothing. Crossing vexed arms, you hypothesize aloud, “Perhaps it has already worn off.”

Electricity sparks harshly on your nape; a sudden thought forms. Move your head right now, your bones and flesh say in unison. Involuntary, your neck tilts until your left cheek collides with your shoulder. A whooshing sound darts past your ear. You watch stunned as the bullet-esque rock Jade controls with magic buries itself into a nearby tree. As if it was fired from an assault rifle!

“An incorrect assumption; you are still responding so we’ll rule that thought out.”

The adrenaline that keeps you docile, almost sedated like a syringe-given drug, slowly drains from your body. Your typical attitude resurfaces and – “You –!” A skirmish between shock and anger pulls your face into a constipated look. “You could have killed me! What if that went through my head!”

“Please,” he tuts with pretend exasperation, thoroughly amused at your reaction. “I’m a capable mage who has mastered many tricks. Losing control on something as tiny as a pebble is never going to happen. Besides, I am to not harm you or risk losing my entertainment.”

Like you would believe that. Which you tell him, stomping your foot and pointing an acute nail at him, “Like I have any reason to believe a grand lie like that! I think you’d laugh over my injured body if you got the chance. You know what, Jade? Deal off! I’m not going to be used like a lab rat.”

Having said your piece, you whirl on your feet. There is a lot of debris and a fallen tree or two … no more accurately ripped and thrown tree or two you will need to climb over, but you are going back to Ramshackle. Tucked in a safe bed, letting this potion shed from your system, that is where you are going to. If only your wrist was not grabbed.

Shouldn’t I have yanked my wrist away before he could touch me, you think, glancing up from the point of contact into a pair of deplorable eyes. Who the hell does he think he is, batting you with sharpened paws as you squeak and scurry back and forth in a rodent panic.

The cat keeps his teeth hidden as he says, “Now, let’s not be so rash. After such a strenuous exercise, the natural course of action is to stop and replenish yourself; not exert yourself more by taking a long, long walk back to the school. I’ll prepare something for us.”

You yank your wrist back. “No way – what you want me to eat those mushrooms; help you identify which one is poisonous or not? You’re sadistic.”

“I have been called worse. However, must I remind you what you stand to lose if you call off our contract?” Your feet pause in their retreat but you dare not turn around. “It would be most unfortunate if this ends so early too.”

Part of you imagines how his face splits into a grin like those shapeshifters in old horror movies, splitting a jagged line across his features; perhaps he even tilts his head seductively to the side so the sunlight catches his enamels in a perfect way; you know from tone alone his smile must be the cat who got the cream.

Which is why when you turn around, you keep your eyes focused on his knees – trying to avoid looking at the thigh straps of his outfit. You almost feel a bit patronized when Jade says, “If anything happens to be poisonous, I had some Ipecac medicine on me.”

You try your best to not look so sad and slouched when you follow Jade.

From the impromptu clearing where trees were ripped up, or perhaps it was all planned down to last detail even this intentional clearing, Jade unloads his backpack. He sets down this small, portable grill table, unfolding the legs to stand upright. Miniature chairs for two with a pine green and sea green triangle patterns are propped upright. Exceptional care is taken when he removes his blue jacket and white hoodie, leaving himself in a black turtleneck.

Just how strong is the guy, you wonder, watching him pull out of this out of a seemingly bottomless backpack. It is only when the hoodie is gone that you get the answer. The sharp curvatures of his biceps are visible because the turtleneck is so tight. A hormonal part of you squeaks in fear like a mouse.

You busy yourself with poking the fire Jade has started in the grill’s belly-like canopy. Whatever chunks of logs were thrown at you now stir under your ministries, distracting yourself from the man of the hour. As you prod with your lone stick, Jade starts to prepare your shared meal.

“So, why do you think it happened?”

“Hm?” Jade looks up from the kebab stick in his hand.

“Why do you think I didn’t move when you went to punch me?”

“Ah,” Jade adds another mushroom to his equally odious, fungi version of Vlad Tepes’s impalment displays, “I have several running theories. Though I most strongly attribute it to confusion.”

“I quite understand what a fist in my face means.”

Jade laughs. “I’m glad but rather I am hypothesizing that it was confusion over me, the flesh I’m in.”

“That makes no sense; I definitely react to people. I reacted to Floyd, and you and him are cut from the cloth.”

“Yes, however there were many variables in the air. As a result, the possibility that the potion saw me as an outlier is not so far-fetched. You were so focused on all the soil and rocks; thus, you ignored me.”

“But the potion reacts to impending danger or whatever is trying to harm me. And I totally see you as a danger.”

“How kind of you.”

“Ugh!” You push the logs more aggressively and fire pops in bigger bursts.

“You reacted to Floyd just fine. When the talking portrait fell, you side-stepped. However, these were all separate instances and not together.”

You consider this, face scrunching. Jade does have brilliant deductive skills; now contemplating it, it is not so far-fetched like he said. Perhaps the potion can only react to living things and similarly only react to non-living things. Yet when Jade grabbed your wrist … you start to ponder on that … but your thoughts disintegrate when Jade starts to fill the grill-plate with his mushroom kebabs.

“I’m not eating those.” Your face keeps that scrunched up expression.

“While not equal to red meat, mushrooms still are a good source of protein. Truly, after your little squabble with nature, I think you might find you quite enjoy these.”

“Not a chance in Hell. They don’t look appetizing at all.”

“Have you ever had them before?”

“No but —.”

“How will you know you don’t like them if you never try them?”

How annoying; Jade sounds like every adult you ever met in your life. Really, you are fixated on wearing this scrunched look like a model with the latest trends. Nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, you look down at the arrangement of your presumed next meal. “I’m just a picky eater. You don’t have a sandwich in that bag of yours?”

“Afraid not,” Jade apologizes without an apologetic expression. “I find relying on nature to remind me of home; a hunt is a hunt no matter whether below or above.”

“So you must have some berries on you or something,” you deduct, trying to find yourself an out.

“Afraid not.” Again, this is said very unapologetically. “Though you are most welcome to wrangle yourself a worm out of the ground. Maybe that potion will help you locate a squirrel that you can overpower.”

“You’re lucky you don’t have this potion on you, or else you could sense my foot’s about to hit your crotch.”

“So violent,” Jade smiles behind the fist which curls up to his mouth, “Please, I implore you: try.” Now he is just teasing you instead of being malicious.

You punch the side of his thigh then go back to observing. There is a decent char on each mushroom now that is more a golden brown than a deep caramel brown.

“You know, if you brine and deep-fry gray oyster mushrooms, they take on the texture of fried chicken. The taste is similar enough when a simple illusion spell can get the pickiest eater to try them.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Your spine pricks with that familiar, forbidding sense.

“Oh no, you misunderstand.”

Jade says before he starts leaning in to regale you with a story of how he managed to trick Azul their freshmen year to eat mushrooms for five months straight. Azul’s comfort food almost ruined evermore. It is odd to see such a mélange of fondness and sadism on a person’s face but Jade wears it well.

Eventually, you are graced with other food: grapes that Jade has in his backpack. Apparently there are some ducks a little ways down the hiking trail that Jade feeds. They aren’t the type to hibernate or fly south for the winter, the Twisted Wonderland version of mallards. Excited, you implore him to show you them as it is only right after tormenting you so, paying you back for the maltreatment.

He says you need to raise your price for torment or else the entire school will abuse you, but he takes you to the ducks all the same.

III. The measurement for Eastern bat’s blood was off by 1.5 ounces.

“Usually when you hold out a hand, there is something in it to offer up,” Jade says analytically. In front of him, your right hand is outstretched.

This world really is out to get you. Not only are you fumbling along in a university that requires a knowledge of foreign, elementary knowledge and has an entrance exam people only pass with Willy-Wonka-ticket luck, but the units of measurements are completely alien to you. Incorrectly, you drained your Eastern bat for half a second too short. Blame can always be pinned on Ace just shrugging when you showed him the beaker; Jade probably will tut and tell you to uphold responsibility.

So, facing him now empty-handed, you say sullenly, “I messed up a potion.” You try your best to ignore the absolute glee that overtake Jade’s features. “You … The effects when … Well, just take off your glove, touch my hand, and you’ll see.”

Today is going to suck majorly. Part of you cannot comprehend what odious, monstrous things Jade Leech will do with. Your foresight with him really needs improving; Octavinelle’s vice-housewarden is an enigmatic mystery to you. When flesh mets flesh, the touch of it stings you like a jellyfish.

His hand is nicely manicured you observe. Just an appropriate enough free edge of the nail to be unamusing yet secretively sharp if need be. His nails won’t cut you up into ribbons without speed and force. It is also a cold hand that feels like resting your cheek on silk when feverish.

Must be because he is cold-blooded and winter is still being stubborn. Taking a deep breath, you look at Jade who is looking intently at you with intrigue. “Was this just an excuse to hold my hand? How quaint, Prefect,” Jade teases when nothing extraordinary eye-catching happens.

Shouldn’t he know to observe the subtleties? You decide to embarrass yourself further by answering, “Just be patient and observe.” Then, hands still stacked upon one another, you turn a bit towards the open hallway you had stopped Jade in.

As the nominated test subject, you had drank the potion when Crewel instructed you to in potionology. Nothing happened and you were given an F. Then, humiliated in front of the class, you realized later that the potion’s intended effects were skewed slightly.

It had taken a lot of trial and error to realize the effects of the potion when first infected. Upset at Ace for not thoroughly reading the measurements, you had taken him by the shoulders and shaked him. In retaliation, he took your cheeks and squished them together to cut off your bemoans. You pinched his cheek in retaliation and then Grim suddenly caterwauled that you two had … disappeared?

Like you said, it took a lot of trial and error. You experimented with Grim, Deuce, and Ace outside the hallway in the main yard. Seeing if it worked skin to fur, seeing if the effects lasted after a quick high five, and figuring out it took a constant touch between two to work but did not work on a third touch.

Now, you have to explain to Jade that both of you are under an invisibility potion that is skewed. So you demonstrate by reaching out and slapping the nearest student across the face. It takes you a while to sum up the courage, the crowd swimming past you. Jade almost grows impatient and tries to retract his hand. Yet at the moment, you remember Schönheit’s face. It feels so satisfactory after being pushed around all the fucking time (especially during VDC) to watch the Pomefiore student stumble in shock. Your hand stings pleasantly.

Jade flinches in surprise and you quickly squeeze his hand tight. Having the contact break after striking a random student is not ideal.

Background Pomefiore student – you decide his name is C – holds his flushing cheek and whirls around, head on a swivel. He finds no culprit. “Hey! … did you just – Um … Who did,” C’s hair shakes back and forth with his frenzied head turn, “Someone … Someone just hit my beautiful face!”

Behind you, watching C with you, Jade starts to chuckle. The knuckle of his left hand comes up to his lips as he fruitlessly tries to cork laughter. Then, inhibition escaping him, he is suddenly laughing like an amused teen instead of some super villain. His shoulders bounce in time with his mirth.

“I see,” he says a bit breathlessly after his laughing fit. “We are under a potion of invisibility.” His eyes track the Pomefiore student. “A potent one too if that student was not able to even sense us.”

C has already left so you release Jade’s hand slightly, still keeping them sandwiched on one another. “Exactly. Unfortunately, it only works with skin to skin contact. We were supposed to brew something that turned a person invisible but this one requires a second body.”

For a moment, Jade’s eyes burn with a dangerous intrigue. Dread fills you like a river. Part of you surmises that you will not be able to predict what malicious actions he will have the two of you perform to terrorize the entire school. As if wanting to pry your ribcage open, Jade repeats your explanation to make sure he has all the available information, “So no one can see us or hear us as long as we touch?”

You shrink away at the dangerous lilt in his voice, so Jade takes to interlocking your fingers together. “Yeah, that’s the basics of this potion.” You look at your interlocked fingers as if they are a threading nest of rattlesnakes instead of fingers embracing.

“How quaint. Typically invisibility potions and spells are traceable through the wisps of magic they leave behind. Perhaps that side-effect is neutralized because you are magicless.”

“Maybe … I don’t really know.”

“Hm,” Jade studies your desolate look. “Let us be on our way then.”

“Wait!” You dig your heels into the ground. “Where are we even going?”

“To my dormitory. I need to retrieve some supplies before we utilize this potion’s potential.”

“Wait!” You dig your heels into the ground. “Why can’t we just interlock elbows!”

Finally, that seems to reel Jade out of his steadyfast mission to bring you to some second location. Gold and umber eyes glance down to your intertwined fingers. The bridge of repeating Zs which the heat from you and him met together. His hold is not so outrageously tight where you have no choice to stay.

“It would be most unfortunate if you were to slip and lose your grip. With a tighter hold like this,” he readjusts your contact to passive hand holding, your fingers unlocking from one another, “I’m assured that we will not break contact.”

“I guess that makes sense.” You … mourn? that you no longer get to hold his fingers equally in yours. But you asked for interlocking elbows. You grimace. “... Hey! Why do you say that like I’d trip! You could trip too.”

“With all the trouble you stumble into, it would be imprudent of me to not prepare for you falling in the literal sense. Do not worry though; I will be there to catch you.”

“Who says I want you to catch me? Hell, I think you’d catch me, only to fake out, and then drop me a second later.”

“Fufufu, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Ugh, don’t smile like that.”

So, doubly regretful and relieved that your hand-holding formation got a new look, you allow yourself to be dragged off to Octavinelle. This you could probably achieve without hand-holding but you like the secrecy. Plus, you got to flip off Riddle Rosehearts and Leona Kingscholar without repercussions. Eventually, Jade steers you towards the bedrooms located in Octavinelle. Wholly relying on him, you give him a withered olive branch of trust to not torment or abuse you too much.

“Do you share a room with someone,” you ask as Jade lets go of your hand. The door to his dorm is closed currently, so secrecy lives on. Your eyes are glued to the opposite side that Jade did not walk towards.

“My brother and I signed up for a double dormitory in middle school.”

“Makes sense,” you say. Sheets scrunched up, shoes and crumbs peppered all over the place, and a horrible sense of cleanliness? You doubt Jade would put up with this from another else but his brother.

Attention drifting, you turn and watch Jade shift through a thick binder on his desk. He takes it from this apparatus of gold that sits on his neat desk. Teal with golden edges, it is one of three heavy binders. Seriously, the thing is at least a good eight inches thick with papers. “What’s that?”

The smile on Jade’s face tells you that is either going to regale or inform you about something sinister. Each sharp, serrated edge gleams like secrets spoken under candlelight. Though gloveless, his hand still perches under his chin. That tunnel of fangs opens. “Simply some information I have had to collect for Azul. It dates all the way back from our first year, down to Orientation Day. Would you like to see?”

Curiosity kills the cat; too bad you are more like the lab rat. Your eyes drawn down to the now open binder thoroughly intrigued. “Wouldn’t Azul be pissy at you for showing someone such valuable information?”

“Perhaps. But, I thought you disliked each housewarden with a vengeance.” Seeing you are still unconvinced, Jade assuages your worry, “All this information I have collected painstakingly by myself. It is under my jurisdiction who I choose to share it with.”

“And that just happens to be me,” you ask, anticipating some catch. Still, you shuffle over to the desk quite eagerly. “What do you get out of showing me this?”

“Just the pleasure of seeing you squirm.”

“Ha. Ha.” You laugh dryly. Electing to ignore that little comment, you turn your attention towards the binder’s pages.

Painstakingly proves to be an appropriate way to describe how detailed the pages are. Reports upon reports of different students stare at you, even with photographic identity in the top corners. It looks more like a report on prisoners than something a student has made. As you flip through, you do spy dates from last year. The margin of notes detail a number of things: past deals made with Azul Ashengrotto, a list of allergies, schedules of classes for each individual student, and a few have their Unique Magics column filled (which you have been told most mages keep those specific spells very private). Some students even have a column labeled Weaknesses on them.

“God, this is,” you say awestruck. You flip through some more. In alphabetical order, Bucchi, Clover, and Diamond are the ones you recognize first. You wonder if at the beginning there is a section detailing Al-Asim too. The absolute punctiliousness of Jade has some students taking up ten to fifteen pages. “This is –”

“Terrifying?” Jade incorrectly supplies the word.

Attention finally broken from the binder, you look up at Jade who is leaning into you slightly. There is an unreadable iota of something in his eyes. Was he hoping to scare you away? “No, not at all.”

“You’re not off put?”

“I’m more impressed by it. I mean, I know how Night Raven College is now. Trust me; been pushed around since day one by students and the classes. This … This is what you have to do to survive here.” You overlooked the page you are on, some random Ignihyde student with a D surname. “I don't, however, think sunlight is an allergy.”

“Trust me,” Jade takes your hand, “for students of that dorm, you would be convinced otherwise.”

“So, what are you going to do with this?”

“We are going to be adding to it.”

So, that is how you and Jade spend your day. Trekking through the hallways of Night Raven College and sometimes even walking unnoticed through certain dorms, you both collect information on students. Filling in the blanks in Jade’s sheets and dating new, unexpected information that you happen to stumble upon.

It is fairly entertaining. Yours and Jade’s preferences towards entertainment are obviously different, but … this is fun. Jade keeps it fun. Initially, you thought intel gathering would be dull and tedious like bird watching, bidding time for a certain student to let something slip. Somehow, you find yourself stifling chuckles that no one could have heard anyways.

This impromptu espionage is much better than how you would have originally spent your afternoon. Leaning into Jade (just to make certain you stay physically touching) you joke about all the embarrassing scenes you two stumble upon. Night Raven College students really are magnets for trouble. You are pleasantly shocked when Jade, smiling with all his predator teeth, suggests you go up to a student and give them a wet-willy.

You never knew Jade could be this fun to hang out with!

You understand that Twisted Wonderland is an eat or be eaten world. And, as Floyd calls you, you are a shrimp. A shrimp with a drizzle of cajun sauce and seasoned with red pepper flakes to be the most appetizing for: picking on, abusing, and just overall suffering from overblots, potions, and plain old magic. It feels nice to regain a bit of power. To see that even mages have weaknesses is a nice balm to your endless ache. To laugh at their misfortune for once.

For the first time in a while, you do not feel that weight of being a failure. That everlasting pressure of having the lowest marks lightens. With an eel at your side, you find yourself a bit elevated on the food chain with certain privileges.

Hand in hand with Jade, you two find yourself walking down a corridor. You have taken to holding a few of your own notes in your non-dominant hand. In front of Jade, his binder is hoisted by a levitation spell as his pen works on writing the information he finds useful.

The binder is under an invisibility spell; so are your notes. However, this kind of magic leaves a trace of smell that high-ranking mages and beastmen are privy to. Magicless as you are, you do not notice a shift of fragrance in the air but you take Jade’s words at their face value.

His levitating pen has been consistently moving across pages. Even when Jade turns to you, smiling widely and joking about today’s events, his pen keeps moving like a restless shark. So, you are wholeheartedly caught off guard for Jade to suddenly halt in his steps. The pen dots its punctuation then hovers still as death in the air. “Jade?”

“Shush,” Jade snips. You almost have half the mind to remind him that no one can hear you under the botched potion. Instead, you turn your attention towards what has stolen the smile off Jade’s face and grabbed his attention so thoroughly.

An Octavinelle student happens to be walking out of a classroom. He has blonde hair swept messily like a tumbleweed and that recognizable armband on his biceps. No one you recognize though. Someone Jade must know, given how intensely he is staring. Before you know it, the binder has been magically closed.

“(Name).” You turn when he calls your name. “May I suggest a little detour? Won’t take longer than a minute.”

“Uh yeah,” you nod dumbly. “Sure.”

So, where the Octavinelle student exits, you and Jade enter. No one notices you entering as is the new normal. It seems to be an after school project group. A few students have pushed two laboratory tables together and are in the middle of writing notes. Jade makes a bee-line for the table which worries you – having been content with hiding in backgrounds and shadows with him.

On the table, there is a coffee thermos right where the only empty seat is. None of the mages are alert enough to notice Jade unscrewing the thermos’s top. You are acutely aware of each move Jade makes though. Paralyzed, you observe like a student watching their scientist experiment combusting. It feels very similar to watching a burning train-wreck, enough to make your jaw drop.

In the pocket of your stunned silence, Jade delicately tucks the black strand of hair behind his ear. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down thrice; a deep phlegmy sound vibrates out his throat. When Jade (out of all the students in Night Raven College!!) hacks up an impressively huge, light yellow spitwad which falls out of his puckered lips into the awaiting cup of coffee.

When he straightens up to you, black hair split behind his ear and framing his cheek, he smiles with the satisfaction of a job well done. “That is all I needed to do. We may carry on; I believe jurisdiction of our next rendezvous falls upon you.”

You get to pick the next student you two humiliate or gather notes on … you know this, it computes in your brain, but … you gape at Jade with a wide mouth, “Who are you and what the fuck have you done with Jade?”

Because gathering information on students and maliciously keeping them in a binder? You can imagine Jade doing such a thing. Taking the opportunities that this botched potion has given him and causing a bit of mischief with you? Well, that is what you are doing right now so it is very easy to imagine. Jade spitting into a student’s drink as a form of revenge or entertainment? Even after seeing it with your own eyes, you cannot fully believe it.

“I assure you, I have not undergone any body-swapping potion at this time.”

“I just – Dude. Dude,” you huff out a laugh. “That was –” Then, suddenly, you are laughing uncontrollably. It is really an advantage that this potion makes you invisible to the ears too. “Hahahaha!! Oh my – hahaha!!”

It surprises you a second time when Jade joins in. “Fufufu … heh … Hahahaha!”

In the afterglow of shared laughter, you and Jade look at each other. His eyes are sharp like his teeth. There is a sensation in the air; you can only akin it to walking on a balancing beam and being brave enough to walk across the soft foam for the first time. Like you are trying something new, here with him.

“I just can’t believe you would do that. You of all people.” Your eyes linger hard on the thermos.

“I do admit it is a bit juvenile of me. Typically, Floyd spits in drinks while I add a certain fungal toxin. This was a bit more personal.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Yet, you have a smile glued to your face. As does Jade. The hand holding does not help with your growing fluster.

Yet before Jade can respond, the door to the classroom is thrown open. The Octavinelle student comes stomping in with a vengeance. Irritation on his face and phone in his hand, he howls, “Fuck Azul Ashengrotto!” You happen to share this sentiment wholeheartedly. “I swear, I cannot even piss without him needing to know! Why did I get saddled with the worst housewarden!”

One of Azul’s contractees, you think just as a student from the table pipes up, “What does he need from you this time?”

“Ugh,” the Octavinelle student groans. He sits down in the empty stoll with a thud; his arm comes up to rest on the table but he does not grab the thermos. “‘Parrantely, our vice called out for his night shift. So, Azul has to schedule three guys just to replace one.”

The Octavinelle student takes a big sip of his coffee. You watch the smile grow on Jade’s face, teeth gleaming. As he sets down the thermos, he continues complaining, “It’s so unfair. I have to drop everything I’m doing just at the drop of a hat for this bitching guy, or else ‘there will be repercussions for breaking contract terms’. What bullshit.”

“Didn’t you break your terms last week,” a Heartslabyul student questions.

“Yeah, when you skipped your shift to go Foothill Town for the weekend,” another Octavinelle student, different from the blonde, pipes in.

“Yeah, I was supposed to taste-test some potion for our vice. Told them I had a family birthday to go to; he won’t find out.”

“I already found out,” Jade leans in and whispers, his breath warm on your neck. He gives a discreet little point towards the thermos. You stifle a chuckle behind your papers. As Jade pulls away, he looks awfully pleased.

“I mean,” the blonde Octavinelle student continues, “the guy’s a total creep! Who knows what would have happened if I drank that potion; would’ve seen me walking around with a third arm or gills. My housewarden and vice are two peas in a pod: complete and utter monsters.”

Laughter blooms up from the table in agreement. Features wilting, you cannot find yourself agreeing with the student’s sentiment. Sure, you can see that description fitting Ashengrotto for how utterly horrendous and repulsive he was during his overblot. But Jade? Well, he is not innocent-incarnate but a monster is a bit much.

If Jade overblotted, would I share that sentiment? No, I don’t think so. You do not get to entertain that thought further as the Octavinelle student, who is not blonde, pipes up in agreement, “At least Azul has some humanity about him … Jade?” The student fakes a shiver. “Wouldn’t be caught dead alone with him.”

Eagerly finishing off his second sip, the blonde Octavinelle student jumps to add his input, “Have you seen how he looks smiling – it’s like a rabid animal trying to appear less rabid. If you’re going to undergo a transformation potion, at least have it do the job.”

“He’s only got himself to blame for having zero friends, looking like that.”

The hand in yours suddenly squeezes at those words. Concerned, your gaze flickers up to Jade. For a foolish second, you really are expecting his face to pull into that familiar grin of shark daggers. Prideful that his reputation is kept so neatly and undamaged.

A scowl is not what you are expecting to see. His nose and upper lip twitch like he is pushing whatever is bubbling to the surface of him back down. Just as quickly as the twitch happens, it goes. A firm lid now placed over Jade’s expression, he turns demure to you and politely says, “Shall we take our leave?”

You can only nod along, confused over the whole ordeal.

You and Jade have this thing going on – no, it is not the potion contract; it is actually something that happens specifically outside of contractual hours. You both have started to smile at one another when spying the other walking down the hallway. To be honest, Jade smiles, you mostly stick your tongue out at him or throw him a peace sign depending on your mood.

The thing is Jade’s grin has always been big, revealing all his predatory teeth and causing wrinkles to form under his eyes. The next time around, passing by one another near the gymnasium, Jade smiles. He smiles tight-lipped, some subdued version of himself.

IV. No mistakes were in the mixture, but it had been splashed on you all the same.

“Grim!” You caterwaul as two bottles of salamander eyes fall into your cauldron.

Ace has been teasing Grim for the better half of this assignment. Something about your low stash of food or something else because really, anything about you two is fuel for teasing. The verbal sparring mattered little to you as you were managing to get this potion right for once! At least, it mattered little until Grim decided to hop over the desk attached to your cauldron.

Down, those two bottles drop into the cauldron with an expressive ploop!; liquid hits you in the backsplash. All you can think about at that moment is what you are going to owe Professor Crewel. You refuse to be scavenging the mountains for salamanders to pluck the eyes out of.

Furious and with canary yellow droplets rolling down your face, you reach across the top of the cauldron. Your fingers hook into Grim’s collar, pulling him towards you as the fireball he was going to strike Ace with evaporates on his tongue.

“Myah!”

“You little –”

“What’s your problem, Henchman!”

“My problem is that you just messed up the first potion we’ve ever done correctly in this class! How could you be so careless! Do you have any idea what it took to pull my weight and make that without a mistake!”

When Grim refutes that Ace called his legs stubby, you swear you could almost combust into flames like the King of the Underworld. It would be a fitting reaction. Yet, all you can do is shout, “Your legs are stubby! You’re short! God, your height being teased should not cause you ruin a perfectly made potion. We are a team; this comes out of your grade too you know! Seriously Grim, I can’t –” And then, you cannot even shout anymore in reaction.

I can’t breathe, you realize with wide-eyed panic just before your legs give out beneath you. “Henchman!” You manage to safely deposit Grim on the ground in midst of your rough fall. However, it does not curb your impending face-plant away.

Why can’t I breathe, you think. You try desperately to will yourself to breathe automatically through your nose or mouth, eagerly willing to take up the torch for your stressed brain. Nothing. Instinctively, your hand flies up to your throat. Under your fingertips, serrations that open in twelve inch wide cuts brush against your hand. You feel rubbery bristles and sleek skin not wet from blood.

Huh? You do not get to ask about it as a spell suddenly lifts you off the ground. Second later, you are dumped inside an empty cauldron Deuce has summoned in the midst of discord and you are dampened by the raincloud Professor Crewel has summoned over your head.

Fresh air, you think while breathing in water. You are knocked out momentary reprise, your new found respect for life after being able to breathe again, when voices suddenly start shouting.

“(Name), are you okay!”

Over your right shoulder, your vision is swallowed by Deuce’s frantic expression. Half of his goggles are pulled up to his forehead but the left side still suctions to his skin, extending up his eyebrow unnaturally. Quizzically frantic, his eyes race over your body.

“I’m fine now, I think –”

“Bad dogs!” You do not finish the sentence. Professor Crewel uses some sort of spell and you watch vindictive as Ace’s and Grim’s heads are pulled together by harsh magnetism. They fall to a heap like knocked over bowling pins. “This is a laboratory! Not a playground! To be standing on desks like that is completely unacceptable!”

“Grim was the one jumping around; he ended up knocking over everything!” Ace jabs a finger in the direction of the dizzy dire-beast.

“He called me stubby! No one insults the Great Grim and gets away with it!” Grim aims a tiny, blue flame in the direction of the Heartslabyul student. A tiny one is only a forewarning of more to follow.

“Enough the both of you! Your absolute foolishness lead to —

“Ow,” you cry, pained. You had only meant to join in on scolding Grim, not interrupt in such a piercing fashion. Wincing, your dominant hand flies up to your mouth. Strings of metallic red connect your finger to your lip, and you wonder what you are going to do now as the rain washes away the red.

Because that potion you were brewing correctly … “You dogs and your insolence led to one of your classmates becoming a merfolk.” … was a mermaid transportation potion.

Now that panic has dwindled away, you suppose it makes sense your momentary lapse of breath. The rain cloud slowly dissipates over your head. With the water in the cauldron reaching the top, there is no more reason to keep it raining indoors. You take the opportunity to survey the damage of another disastrous potion accident.

The complexion of your tail is a mixture of olive gray with yellow undertones. Truly, you are not sure how to describe the texture of the canvas besides resembling a stingray or perhaps a shark. Your tail breaks off into the shape of an uneven boomerang. Against the rough cauldron’s innards, you definitely feel a dorsal fin scraping on the cast iron.

The crowns of your teeth have elongated into sharp points which is why you keep your jaw hanging open. You are not going to risk biting off your tongue, unaware that magic could repair it.

“Henchman, you have teeth just like me!”

Oh, you love Grim dearly like an annoying little brother, but you yearn for nothing more than to bite him hard. Painful enough where he learns his lesson. Your lips pull up into a smile when Professor Crewel hits him on the head. Then, you drop your open maw into a crude caricature of a frown when Crewel turns around. You don’t want him to misread your smile; you promise you are not finding this situation funny.

Because, to you, this is the worst. Your legs – your tail – no, your legs feel disgusting. So conditioned to have two separate legs, the innard combination of muscles and bones melting together causes a shiver up your back. Absent of piggy-toes to wiggle, lower limb bones suddenly hollowed out of you, fat and epidermis shifted into something supernatural. Get me out of this body!

Your pyramiding nausea must be shown on your expression; Professor Crewel gives you a sympathetic look for someone you thought so apathetic. He surveys you before saying, “It will take until after school for me to have the reversal potion brewed. Even then, I cannot keep you in the laboratory.

“Usually, I would pin the responsibility on you two mutts,” he sends a glare at Grim and Ace, “but then I would risk endangering the Prefect further. Perfect.” You grow more very nauseous because you know where this is going. “I think it would be ideal if you stay in Octavinelle for the time being.”

You must be an edible species of mermaid right? Maybe, with enough begging, you could convince Deuce or Grim to set a fire underneath the impromptu aquarium tank you sit in. “Ashengrotto can escort you. My 2C class is next period.”

You can’t even drown yourself; a whimper breaks your lips. In a kiss that is more a punch, your forehead and the side of the cauldron met like two angry lovers. “Just cook and eat me,” you moan sullenly.

“Yay, sushi!”

“Grim!!” Deuce shouts, mortified.

When Azul does come in next period, five minutes before the bell like the attentive student he is, you glare at him over the side of your cauldron. It takes all but seconds before his stunned expression to melt into that sinister, scheming smirk. He really is such a snake even after his overblot. You would normally say this little favor is going to cost you an arm and a leg, but you already lost two legs. No way are you parting with an arm.

“My, it seems you have gotten yourself into an unfortunately tight spot, Prefect. I’ll be happy to write up a contract that alleviates you from this certain predicament.”

Now, it takes luck and hard coordination, but you manage to splash Azul just as he finishes his sentence. It feels like stretching out a knot in your leg when you use your tail to propel water out of your cauldron.

As Azul simmers in shock, you snicker in satisfaction. Serves him right.

Soon enough, you are brought to Octavinelle. Hypothetically, it would take Azul two days to finish a reversal potion, which is better than most students who would need five days. But since Professor Crewel is working to ‘alleviate you from this certain predicament’, there is no need for a contract. Thus, the housewarden carries your cauldron through the school with magic.

There are so many questions running through your head that you and Azul remain silent during the trip to the Hall of Mirrors. Are you going to get dumped outside in Octavinelle’s waters to fend for yourself, or are you going to be thrown into the pool left to starve? What can you even eat in this form? It is already so hard to talk with the fangs in your mouth. Blood stains your lips like lipstick. You are deathly afraid of biting off your own tongue.

This is the worst potion accident I’ve ever had, you sulk, chin on the edge of stone. You want an easy life like everyone else but destiny has deemed you a magnetic force for chaos. Like there is something sweet in your blood or on your skin that attracts misfortune to you.

No one else in your first year class had experienced either a multitude of potion mishaps or a multitude of overblotted students. There has to be something in you that causes misfortune to suction to you with eagerness.

It is only when Azul speaks, carrying you through the Hall of Mirrors, do you stop your petite mopeness session. “Now, Octavinelle’s pool is never emptied so it will take some time to arrange it to be closed for the day. As a housewarden, it won’t take more than an hour. In the meantime, you are going to have to swim outside the dorm.”

“You can’t just keep me in the cauldron? I figured you shove me in some broom closet.”

“Now, do you really think I'm so cruel?”

“I do.”

A scowl moves Azul’s lips. As he carts your cauldron through the mirror, violet sparks shimmering on the bottom like bugs drawn to a bowl of overripe fruit, he smiles cruelly, “Well, I’m glad to prove your expectations right.” Then, without any care, he vindictively dumps you out of the cauldron and into the mirror’s tensile surface.

“Asshat!” You manage to shout breathlessly before you find yourself on the other side of Octavinelle’s mirror.

The pressure of water is unfortunately reliving to the pressure of suffocation on your chest. In the cauldron, you felt mildly asthmatic. It is certainly easier to breathe now. Which you do, you take a deep breath and then into nebulous waters, you shout out your frustrations. “ugh … UUUGH! AAAAAGH!!” Left alone in the blue, you sink down and down like a stone with each of your thoughts.

Hollowed out the bones in your lower limbs and trapped in skin made of dermal denticles, you eventually force yourself to learn to walk.

It takes a great deal of try and fail, rinsing and repeating the process. Stubbornly, you refuse to just lie at the bottom of Octavinelle’s water to die and join a whale’s skeleton … or just wait until Azul comes to retrieve you, fake sympathy on his tongue … the mere notion of the latter causes your teeth to grind.

Thankfully, the waters are empty of any merfolk. A dagger named Embarrassment would have punctured your heart if otherwise. Having your multiple face-plants into sand and multiple collisions with reefs being seen by a single spectator makes you grimace. Eventually, you learn to use the yellowish-gray tail with the dexterity found in a squirmy newborn.

An average person would have taken longer than an hour to learn the motions. You take to it like a duck to water. Impressively, it takes you only twenty-five minutes. Of course, you are arrogant of this fact. Limbs bruised from the rocks you have crashed into and mouth salted with the sand you accidentally swallowed, you sulk. Terribly miserable at the bottom of the sea, thinking yourself the biggest fool in Twisted Wonderland, you sulk at your falsely perceived failures but keep at it.

Moving with a tail mimics the sensation of sprinting. It is a constant motion that you must fall into smoothly. Once you start, you cannot risk a slight falter because that will send you barreling back to the ground. You must be confident about your motions.

Tail oscillating back and forth, you push yourself off the seafloor for hopefully your last time. You wade gently off the seafloor like a bumpy airplane hopping off the runway. And then finally something happens in your abdomen and in your legs. Finally! Finally, you manage to find your rhythm.

As if pulled there by an invisible thread, you find yourself swimming over to Octavinelle. Unconfident about your agility, you keep to the eastern side of the dorm, away from the towering spirals that look like a homunculus birth between a crab hand and an octopus, and you keep yourself away from the main building, wary of what could happen if you interact with other students.

You wrap yourself around stone structures shaped like pointy fish-heads. Glide up the natural pattern of stairs made of the seabed floor, testing your ability to elevate yourself. Brush your hand briefly over a certain gray stone shaped oddly like a circle head with two circular ears, reminding yourself of that mouse creature you saw in the mirror days ago. Then, you turn yourself on your spine, belly up, and propel yourself towards the tunnel in Octavinelle with experience that grows second by second.

The ‘skies’ are filled with starfishes suctioned to the edges of purple-gray arching stone, a school of moonfish with shining silver bodies with the edges of their fins kissed by orange sunshine hues, and moon jellyfish that move hypnotically like a multiple aliens made of clouds of milky-coral intestines. How phantasmal and pretty.

Despite being in another world full of alien creatures like beastmen, mermen, and fae, at least the ocean has not changed that much. Now, impromptu and unplanned, you are thrown into the chance of a lifetime. Despite yourself, a smile grows on your lips.

Flipping yourself belly down, you glide over the tunnel system. It is a sectional hallway of Octavinelle that goes from the main building towards the dormitories. The unique faucet about the long hallway with the overarching ceiling is that the ceiling is made of glass.

You meant to swim over the glass structure but you stutter in your motions when you make eye contact with a certain someone walking down the hallway. Even when separated by a barrier, that mountain landscape of smiling fangs manages to send a shiver down your spine. Why is that asshat’s eyes half-lidded like that?

Regaining yourself, you swim fast inches above the tunnel and ignore Jade Leech who watches you fondly in Octavinelle’s aquarium hallway, a few school books in his hand. You come to regret it later because:

“You broke contract terms earlier,” is the first blasted thing out of Jade’s mouth when he enters Octavinelle’s pools just as Azul exits.

“How so,” you grumble. After his classes, Azul retrieved you from Octavinelle waters with all the grace of a dog owner picking up their mutt from a park after hours of neglect. He leashed you with a spell and dropped you into Octavinelle pools. Now, lying on your back, you glide aimlessly in water like an adrift pool-float.

Didn’t matter where you were though as you knew Jade would come find you. But – “Earlier, when we made eye contact through the tunnel, you swam away like a shy clownfish.” – seems you forgot how rigorous people in this specific dorm were about terms.

Mouth opening to defend yourself (more correctly, lie and say you did not know how to stop), a certain tantalizing scent catches your attention. Flipping yourself upright, you glance towards the edge of the pool when Jade stands on the steps, ankle deep with his pants rolled up and footwear off. In his hands are two steaming plates.

“Oh thank God, I’m starved,” you say, swimming over.

Yet Jade chuckles, “Food is for well-behaved fish who uphold their contract terms.”

“Oh God,” you groan. “Listen, I didn’t know how to stop.” A lie but you tack on, “And it’s not my fault I wasn’t with you. Azul dumped me into Octavinelle. He pushed me in there like a bird kicking her chick out of the nest.”

“Still, I would have come to retrieve you had you not darted away. Did I perhaps frighten you?”

“Jade, just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll say it. I’m starving.” You had not realized how famished your new body had grown in such a short time. Swimming is a rigorous exercise but you never thought it would hollow out your stomach so thoroughly.

“My, what an opportunistic sentence. Anything I want you to say … just like that? Sevens, which of the hundred self-deprecating phrases could I move your tongue into?” The smile he aims at you is a perfect mimic of some villainous character reveling in the downfall of a hero.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Jade. You know that? A real thorn in my side.”

“A leech on your ankle?”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

“Of course. Any self-respecting person should be able scrutinize and recognize who they are in the eyes of those on the outside looking in.”

“Then you must know I see you as a real asshole for not feeding me.”

You hold up your hand to accept the plate. At the end of this verbal maze, you will be rewarded with food. Like a mouse who is eventually given cheese after all those twists and turns. However, you do not expect his next sentence:

“You’re hurt.”

Are those the words you must repeat? “I’m hurt?”

Jade shakes his head at you. You watch in surprise as he sits on the edge of the pool, leaving his ankles in the water. You have never seen him look so casual in his dorm uniform. Sure everything is tightly buttoned and hastened in place, yet there is an air of permissiveness around him. “Your arm,” Jade clears up confusion as he sets the plates down.

When you check the appendage, Jade’s words are proven right. A mark that is sure to turn violet and black runs across your forearm. Must have happened when you were trying to learn how to swim, bumped too hard into a coral reef perhaps.

“Oh damn, that is going to ache tomorrow.” Hissing through your fangs, “Shit.”

Jade hums in consideration. “Give it here.” He gestures to your arm.

After a moment’s hesitation, you extend your forearm so it rests in Jade’s hands. You expect him to dig his nails into the area, to test what will make you wince. However, he just carefully maneuvers it in his hold, mapping out the bruise’s perimeter with his eyes. Then, he unclips his magic pen from his breast-pocket.

You rest your head on your shoulder, peering up at Jade with tired eyes. Violet light orchestrates a ballet across his feature, dipping and pirouetting on each sharp curve. It reminds you of how he fought in the violet drenched nightmare of Schoenheit’s overblot to keep you safe.

As the perimeter of your bruise shrinks, you realize something and have to force down a twitch.

Oh.

Oh!

Juxtaposingly, it seems so natural and it seems so artificial. You have feelings for Jade Leech?

‘Please, be serious’ you want to chastise yourself. However, it feels like something that has grown inside your heart naturally. However, it too feels like it was something born of blasphemous methods that would offend Mother Nature. Perhaps that is your own hesitation to admit to having a crush.

Bruise completely gone, lavender light falls away from his face. “There we go.” He looks up from your arm to your body. Seemingly, his eyes flirt about to assess whether there is any more mark from your old, faithful friend Danger you have inevitably fallen into. Does he think you are a failure? The thought makes you sick. You don’t want Jade to ever think that about you.

As you take back your arm from his lap, curling and twisting it experimentally, you thank him. He responds,“It’s no trouble at all. I uphold contract terms … unlike others.”

“Oh, climb off it.”

When you enunciate your sharp ‘t’, Jade’s eyes are magnetized down to the rows of razor daggers in your mouth. If Jade Leech could look stunned, you think this is the closest you have ever seen him do so. A subdued version of the facial expression.

“What,” you ask. “Something on my face?”

“No, no,” Jade smiles like it is nothing. He picks up the plates previously set aside. He balances each like a veteran waiter, showing you the beef wellington he has cooked for you two. It is paired with a brown sauce underneath the pastry. “I’m glad to see that my preparation was prudent to all the changes the potion did.”

“You aren’t going to change into your mer-form? Show me how to eat and swim correctly so I don’t injure myself?”

“Now, I don’t want to be too honest with you.” You simply swipe your plate, because God, an honest Jade Leech is scarier than a dishonest one.

When you head out of Ramshackle the next day, waving goodbye to the ghosts and dire-beast on your shoulder, you come to an unexpected stop on the rickety porch. “Huh, what’s that,” Grim asks as you lean down to pick up the two mysterious jars. Underneath glass, a hundred or so slimy salamander eyes peer at you. And you suddenly recall what you had bemoaned to Jade, Crewel’s going to have my head if I can’t replace his supplies.

Around the neck of each jar, a periwinkle bow has been tied with expert care. You know which dorm that color signifies. For the first in a long time, you walk the hour trek from Ramshackle to Night Raven College feeling light like a feather.

V. Lilies were selected and arrogantly substituted for asphodels.

“So, how did this come to be again,” Jade asks … just for clarification.

Even though it was Grim who grabbed the lilies, it can still be attributed as your fault. If you were in the right mind to speak, you would blame yourself. For one, you used poor judgment to trust Grim would be able to handle selecting ingredients. Secondly, when handed the lilies, you did not check if they were the shape of asphodels. In your vocal absence, Grim clarifies to Jade, “My Henchman messed up the potion!”

“You little weasel!” Adding injury to his insult, Ace whacks the back of Grim’s head.

“Ow!” Grim cries on Deuce’s shoulder. “Well, they did! Myah, it's not my fault they put it in.”

“You’re the one that picked out the wrong flower, so you’re ultimately at fault,” Deuce sighs. Turning back to Jade, the freshman laments, “Though, we’re not quite sure how one little flower could cause such a big difference. Or when it’s going to wear off.”

With the last sentence said, Deuce sends a wary glance to you. All of them know about the contractual agreement between you and Jade. Obligations stitch you two side by side until the effects of a botched potion wears off. However, he thinks this time should be the expectation.

“I hope it never wears off,” Ace snickers, undeterred by the glare of Deuce and Jade.

Originally, none of them knew if the potion was working wrongly, which is quite ironic. Working wrongly … ah, what an odd way to put it. But, when Professor Crewel dipped the rectangular slip of perfume-testing paper into your cauldron and it came back a neon pink instead of a dull orange, you knew you had to make the venture to find Jade Leech.

Even if I breathed in just a sniff, I have to do this, you griped when your trio asked why you were even heading in the direction of Octavinelle. Sadly, it is an obligation. Your contract has you and Jade spending a large amount of time together.

Out of all the mishaps, this one crept on you silently. Without any forewarning and without any subtlety. One minute you were standing idle by the Mostro Lounge’s entrance and then, Deuce cringes at the memory, you were like this.

“Jade, can I have another kiss pleaseee?”

Clinging like an eel with captured prey, your arms are wrapped tightly around Jade’s waistline. He cannot seem to pry you off. In honey-laced tones, you bat your eyelashes prettily up at Jade as you ask for your second kiss from him. Hopefully this one will be reciprocated.

As if the entrance to Mostro Lounge was enchanted with a changeling circle, something shifted in you when you saw Jade. In the crowd of waiters and customers, you found Jade working. Your pupils dilated; your breath hitched; Cupid’s arrow pierced into the cotton-candy red of your beating heart. At the sound of a flustered breath, the trio only got a second to view your visage – a magical cocoon of lovestruck emotions wrapping around you – before you run up to Jade, calling his name in phony passion.

The first kiss you stole, lip to lip, when you two collided in greeting. The look of disbelief on Jade’s face had Ace sputtering with laughter.

Deuce was quick to explain everything before Jade … Well, it was difficult for Deuce to tell what Jade was even thinking, or perhaps plotting. He cannot stomach hypothesizing upon the torment you might be subjected to because of how you are acting. Would Jade feed you poisonous mushrooms for all your non-consensual actions – non-consensual on both parts, you hardly seem right in the head.

For your sake, Deuce hopes Jade goes easy on you. Speaking of the eel-mer.

In response to your amorous inquiry, Jade tilts his head to look down at you. His eyes are unreadable shields. Though his voice has a tint of minacious teasing in it, “Perhaps we should find another activity for you to take part in? Dishwashing perhaps?”

Grim makes a whine at the memory of dishwashing months ago. Deuce breathes a sigh of relief, dish-washing duty is a low price to pay. It seems Jade might actually be merciful to your unfortunate soul.

“I’d get down and dirty with you in some bubbles.”

Deuce’s face pinches in worry.

“HAHAHA!” Ace full blown cackles, holding onto his stomach. “Oh, this is great!” He exclaims, sneering at both you and Jade.

That passive mien on Jade’s face has not even dimmed once at your prevetish intents. Polite disinterest is a mask welded firm to his visage. “My, what a crude innuendo. I must inform you, Mostro Lounge is rather firm on its policy on keeping professional conduct.”

You frown at this sentiment. One could even call you distraught over it. But then something sparks in your lovestruck brain, and you lean harder into Jade like you are trying to fuse yourself to his skin. “Well, is there anything else in Mostro Lounge that is fir–umph?” Jade’s hand covers your mouth swiftly.

You waste no time, pressing a kiss to the glove and staring up at him with half-lidded eyes.

Composure not slipping for a second, Jade turns to your friends who look on with expressions ranging from horrified to amused. Ah, Isn’t amusement most gratifying when found in the horrifying … Jade thinks so wholeheartedly. With a slight incline of his head, the vice-housewarden says, “As per our contract, I’ll take (Name) for the time being. You three are welcome to stay and enjoy our new spring menu.”

Your friends give various grumbles as Jade guides you away. Deuce even yells out a quick, stay safe, which makes sense when one is in the presence of a predator. However, your entire body is lax and void of tension. You follow after Jade, looking like you would follow him to the ends of the earth.

It is world-altering, tray slipping and dropping glassware type of world-altering, accidentally burning their hand on a hotplate type of world-altering to the staff of Mostro Lounge to see their second boss (and to some their own vice-housewarden) walk arm in arm with the Ramshackle Prefect. The rumors will infect the school for at least a whole semester. Yet despite the obvious euphoria flowing out of the Ramshackle Prefect as they cuddle up to Jade Leech, the side profile of the eel-mer is frozen in polite apathy.

His cheeks aren’t even pink when the Prefect presses close to him. And you are attractive to have a few admirers who would enjoy having you cling to them. Courteous, Jade opens the VIP room up to you, but you drag him in, refusing to be separated from him for a moment.

When the door clicks shut – thankfully Azul happens to be either in the kitchen or on the floor – with you pulling Jade’s hand and stumbling backwards towards the couch like it is a bed and you two are on your honeymoon, Jade’s stone composure fractures. It all comes spilling from him like an ocean free from the hold of a petite water bottle.

“Fu-Fuck (Name),” his voice trembles against his unoccupied gloved hand. Jade’s skin hue rockets from pale to pink to a red that makes him seem like he is overheating. Resolve wavering, Jade allows himself to be magnetized down to the couch.

In the sweetest voice that would put sirens to shame, you croon in his ear, “Jade; my lovely Jade; my strong Jade; mine, mine, mine.” You start to press deliberate kisses over his neck, seeing how much resistance his bowtie is going to give to your ministrations.

Jade is on his knees for you. His hands may be planted by your shoulders, but his lower body is completely off the couch. Amorously, you wrap legs around a slim waist and wrap hands around a forest of teal locks. He won’t kiss you back; he cannot find it in himself to, not when you are under a potion’s effect at least. However, he moves his head to an angle like a pleased cat to allow the kisses you litter on his neck.

“Take this off. Jade, off.” Vexful, your fingers pry at the bowtie fastened properly to his uniform. The white article is unapologetically firm against your inexperienced tugs. “Please.”

Something alive wiggles in Jade’s stomach like a spiral. Air crackles with a snap of fabric; the speed Jade rips his necktie off is intense. He undoes his silly bowtie with the eagerness of a highly anticipated Christmas present – good; because, under this potion, you are so eager too.

“(Name), you’re so …” He stops himself, not knowing whether you will remember this later.

As kisses burn his skin, Jade hopes he never scares you off. During Idia’s overblot, he had been so selective with how he fought to protect you – not wanting to mimic the ugliness you say you found in people who overblot. You, with a magic broom in hand, had asked him to abandon his post as vice-housewarden to help you find Grim; he would have abandoned his entire education for you like how the Mermaid Princess abandoned the sea all those centuries ago.

That train of thought is so dangerous though.Your friendship is so incredibly dear to him. Jade wants to take it slow.

Human courtship works in such mysterious ways that he sometimes feels like a failure at the methods and execution on his end of things. If he were to be truthful with you, pull back the floorboards of his facade to show you the concert of lovebugs thudding in their moshpit underneath … ah, he hopes so passionately to never scare you off.

As two of his dress-shirt buttons are undone, Jade leans his cheek against your temple. Like an efficient undertaker, he will bury himself under pleasantries to make himself appear more human and subdued. Even in dishonesty, he will love you honestly.

Your teeth are dull. His are not.

Said teeth burrow themselves into the juncture of his neck. Groaning, Jade is ashamed to feel his toes curl in his socks at the bite of such a prey. Sevens, he is stronger than this.

With spit and teeth, you start to suckle and break the blood vessels in his skin like they are merely thin glow-sticks. He feels each thread of his self control break with them. Serrations from his clenching hands are made in the VIP couch as Jade lets you paint a hickey on his neck.

The violet in his future bruise is sure to make a perfect matching garish for the color scheme of his dorm uniform.

You take exceptional care to hold your protector gently in your hands as you bite like a rabid animal. Like squishy dough, his skin rounds itself up and into the empty space of your mouth. It is a warm sensation that causes even his knuckles to tingle with the blooming heat.

“(Name)?” Your name falls husky out of Jade’s mouth. He did not think his vocal cords could wither to something unprofessional. “Uuh,” he moans from the sarcophagi of his throat when you chomp harder.

“So beautiful, so gorgeous, so … so Jade.” You punctuate these sentiments with pecks that move up to his cheek. When you say the last one, you cradle the left side of his face in your hand. You press your lips to his cheek as if trying to fuse with him.

He kills sentimentality from his voice thoroughly, but Jade has to know, “So Jade? Is that good?”

“It’s perfect.”

Jade drops you off at Ramshackle when your body slips into sleep. When he arrives at his dorm, he lands hard, supine on his mattress. Floyd glances up from his phone, not used to seeing Jade lie in bed so haphazardous without doing his whole routine. Lying in bed, the eel-mer takes his finger to press on the growing bruise on his neck – your own personal attack on him.

“I just had the best day of my life,” Jade muses. A smile wide and wicked blooms on his face as he looks at the ceiling. It only disappears when a pillow is thrown at him.

Reversed I. Jade rarely makes mistakes, but he had forgotten which came first: the live, squawking chicken begging to not be killed or the still, docile egg which could not voice the same plea, begging to not be killed.

Walking out Crewel’s class, having just aced a potion with your lab partner Ace (no pun intended), your eyes expand in surprise when you see one of Octavinelle twins stalking on the opposite wall. Grim bristles in your arm cradle and Adeuce falls silent in their conversation. Tension paints the air. Especially when said twin says:

“Ya breakin’ contract terms, Shrimpy. Can’t believe I gotta do the chase-and-catch act with ya.” His bored look morphs into a smile. “Though Shrimpy’s probably super fun to squeeze. Too bad Jade won’t let me.” His look morphs right back into boredom at his last sentence.

Whiplashed by his chameleon-ing expressions, you stand there numb. His words also make you pause because as far as you are concerned, you are not breaking any terms. The potion you just made went off without a hitch. Bsides, if it went wrong, you would be heading to Octavinelle, obedient to your terms.

“How am I breaking the terms? I haven’t messed up a potion since …” Since that time you were acting like a spellbound lovestruck fool, “since you know.”

You trail off. All you know about the last incident comes secondhand from your trio, having woken up in Ramshackle the day after with no recollection of the events. Stricken by only the prologue of a story you do not know, you went about classes in Night Raven College with a lingering sense of uneasiness for two weeks. You think to yourself, Jade must be livid, and start anticipating his revenge at any time. Yet, in the interlude of this horridly put together fantasy comedy that you have been thrown into, teal hair and sharp teeth never make an appearance until now.

… And the appearance is flipped like a mirror and yawning out, “Uuuh, yeah ya did. If one of you messes up a potion, you guys gotta be with each other.”

“But I haven’t messed up –”

Grim leaps out of your arms when you are grabbed but you do not have the luck to make your own escape.

Floyd ignores your words. “So, ya get to come with me, lil Shrimp,” he exclaims with a happy lilt, pulling you hard by the forearm. How the hell does a guy of his stature have the strength of a bodybuilder! “Tired of Jade being all boring and not comin’ to find ya. So, I thought I helped!”

“Oh, no, Floyd, that’s not our contract terms. The terms are –” You are cut off abruptly.

“Ya callin’ me a liar, Shrimpy?”

“EEK!”

The face in front of you – that leans down and covers you in a heavy shadow – is reserved for breakers of Azul’s contracts and those who have messed up majorly in Floyd’s book. Unbeknownst to you, you are the breaker of Jade’s sensitive little heart – he has been bemoaning how he probably scared you away two weeks ago, much to Floyd’s annoyance – and that means you have majorly, in behemoth portions, messed up in Floyd's book.

Staring into those pin-prick eyes and open mouth leer, you almost feel your bladder go slack in fear. With how nice, although a bit devious, Jade expressions have been around you, seeing this twisted version of those features makes you shudder. Don’t forget how vulnerable you are, it warns.

Luckily, there are three glorious idiots in this world that love you dearly. So, when one of them goes, “Hey, my Henchman ain’t no liar, liar!” you relax just a bit. Though Grim’s bravery quickly vanishes with a squealing EEK! when Floyd looks over your shoulder to make eye contact with him.

“Now, you’re someone I can squeeze, Sealy. Don’t get so noisy, ‘kay?” Those hostile eyes land back on you. “Don’t make me drag ya, ‘kay?”

“Hey, you can’t just talk to them like that!” Deuce defends.

“Ya tellin’ me what to do, Little Mackerel? I can talk to anyone however I want.”

“No, you can’t –”

“You can talk to me like that!”

Everyone, even you turn your own head, stares at Ace with wide-eyed expressions. “Hey! Sue me for having self preservation. I for one wouldn’t make such a stupid deal.”

Bristling, you bite back, “I literally devised a plan to save you from a deal with Azul months ago, asshat.”

“That was Azul; not one of the twins. ‘Sides, I’m sure Jade is so eager to see his little boyfriend/girlfriend again. Probably needs another kiss,” Ace teases with a shit-eating grin.

Your eyes go small in anger, a poor rendition of Floyd’s but still powerful. For these past two weeks, Ace has been referring to you as Jade’s partner and been hinting at more below-the-belt activities. Who knows what could have happened in Octavinelle, you and him all alone for a full day, he teases for the duration of fourteen days, hands steepled in mischief. Just as you open your mouth, ready to rip Ace a new one, you are lifted off the ground like a mere household pet.

“See! Crabby gets it!” You wrestle and twist in Floyd’s tight hold. “Ya both just need to kiss it out!”

“I think the phrase is talk it out,” Deuce adds helplessly as you dragged off by a 6’1” eel, screaming:

“Ace. Ace! When I get my hands on you! ACE!”

Thus, you are once more brought to Octavinelle against your will. Instead of being cradled by a cauldron full of water and Azul’s magic, you are held tentatively in Floyd’s arms as you wiggle and thrust in hopes to escape. He does not break your ribs or your arms luckily. You whack Floyd with all your might the entire way.

Heels dragging across linoleum, you watch the ground move under you like an escalator. Floyd is still effortlessly dragging you, much like a body-bag. Already, you have tried to bargain with Floyd on getting your tedious freedom. Offering up pieces of candy you have in your pocket, labor you could perhaps do in the Lounge; offering up one day to ransack Ramshackle of any objects he wants, labor you could perhaps do by helping him complete parkour tricks or basketball.

His mouth twists in contemplation when you offer to let him use the rocky, uneven terrain of Ramshackle’s backyard. Offer it for what? To Floyd for free-use to test ride for his new Blastcycle. You thank your very low population of lucky stars that Jade mentioned offhandedly Floyd was planning to join one trip of the Mountain Lovers Club to test the motorcycle on new environments for tricks.

You can deal with another deal with an eel! As long as you can avoid seeing the eel you were trying and probably failing to seduce due to a botched potion! Thinking you have Floyd hook-line-and-sinker, you completely stop struggling.

Until he hums, “Naaaaah!” and you two are jumping through Octavinelle’s mirror in the Hall of Mirrors. If the world has decided to give all its troubles to one person, the world has picked you from the pile. A part of you hates how much this cursed, twisted world has knocked you down repeatedly.

When the bubble pops, Floyd finally lets you walk with him. Though the arm looped around your shoulder feels more like a pillory than a friendly gesture. Devil-toothed, he smiles at you and says, “Sooo you and Jade, huh?”

“Huh!” You shout indignant.

“Hey, it’s cool. I approve so no sweat. Just unexpected ‘cus I thought this was just an experiment for Jade; then he got serious so I was thinkin’ wooow, weird, ya know?”

Confused, you just blink at Floyd’s words. This contractual agreement between you and Jade is more cat hunting the mouse then cat watching the mouse navigate a maze. It has a very hands-on experiment with you as the main test subject. But serious; why would it be more or less serious now?

The smile drops off Floyd’s face. “No way you’re this dumb, Shrimpy. I know ya suck at potionology but c’mon.”

“I just don’t understand what you mean by serious.”

“Sevens, you two would be pinin’ till your fourth year without me.”

“Pining?” … That involves your feelings being mutual? Jade doesn’t – “EEK!”

Floyd’s eyes go back to that pin-prick size again. He even halts both of your walk towards his and Jade’s dorm. Without your trio here, you sincerely doubt how much Floyd is going to uphold his decision not to squeeze you. Instead, he just throws back his head and groans. “He owes me a month worth of pickin’ up my shifts after this.”

You have numerous questions on what Floyd is alluding to but you are suddenly pushed into a more brisk walk. Floyd’s hand steers you. “‘Kay, I’ll give ya the rundown so ya don’t act like an idiot. Jade messed up a potion. And, your guys’ contract says you have to be around each other when that happens.” Incorrect but you let him continue.

“Jade … ya know him, Jade, my brother? Well, he’s the secretive typa-guy. Has a hard time lettin’ people get close. Mama calls him super shy. But, you, got to go hikin’ with him, see our dorm, and even eat a meal with him. Jade doesn’t do that with just anyone.”

Even though there is no botched potion ingested right now, you feel something fluttering around your stomach like a bubbling elixir at Floyd’s words. He continues, “And, right now, my oh-so-tight-lipped brother is under a truth serum potion.”

The world stops. One, because you come to the world-halting epiphany that you have been seeing a side of Jade that no one other than Floyd and Azul might be privy to view it. Two, because Floyd stops steering you in the direction of the dorm due to arriving at the very designation. The guy who keeps his real thoughts tucked behind layers upon layers of purple prose is under a truth serum; the guy who would rather shrivel up like a beached fish than reveal his heart is under a truth serum; the guy whose Unique Magic forces people to tell the truth is under a truth serum. The irony is not lost on you, and thus the world stops.

“Jade’s under a –?”

“Yeah,” Floyd laughs, tickled pink with amusement.

In sync, you both glance at the dorm’s door like it is a monolith dropped out of the skies. Who knows what might be held inside it? Venturing in might reveal some eldritch secrets that primitive extraterrestrials hid away thousands of moons ago.

“You can go in there, ya know. Contract says it’s fine.”

A part of you wants to finally clear up the confusion between Floyd and yours and Jade’s contract. Yet, a bigger part of you, oh that part has to see what is behind Curtain Number One more than anything else. An honest Jade Leech is like finding life on Mars. Deluding yourself, you think: Well, the contract never outlined the terms for the other party being compromised by a potion sooo … You glance at Floyd.

“I don’t understand what you get out of this.”

“Hehe, entertainment.”

That tracks well enough that you do open the door.

Hand on the knob of the monolith, you glance into rather tenebrous darkness like looking under the bed for monsters. Behind you, Floyd flicks up the switch with his index. Light floods the room. On the bed to the right, Jade lies peacefully on his side, hugging a pillow.

“You’re gonna need to shake him awake. Jade sleeps reeeal deep.” Slack-jawed, you turn around with indignance on your tongue. As a mouse, you refuse to be sent in to poke a slumbering cat. Yet, Floyd has already departed without another word.

“Asshat,” you mumble at the closed door. It is completely unlocked and you know you could leave anytime but … well, let's just say Jade is not the only one who likes to lift up rocks and see what squirms underneath. Besides, you have contractual terms that keep you protected.

“Okay … okay.” You steel yourself in your resolve. Despite this, you tiptoe your way over to Jade’s bed, hyper aware of what floorboard looks like it could possibly make a creak. Floyd is not under a truth serum; he could be lying about Jade being a deep sleeper.

Jade looks quite innocent when asleep. It is probably the last adjective anyone would ever use to describe him but it is the bone deep truth. Facade and stress melted from his features, there is this alien beauty resting peacefully on pallid skin. His hair is a bit more unruly; teal wisps all still flow in the same direction but they separate more openly. It kind of looks like someone took a balloon to his head and rubbed until static engulfed it. Oh, and his nose is so cute when he has his cheek depressing down on a pillow like that.

Smile stolen, you blink once in surprise from your own thoughts, despite knowing they have become like that overtime. “Aaah forget about it,” you murmur.

Reaching over, you gently grasp Jade’s shoulder. You have had a question on your mind for a while. Quiet as a mouse, you urge, “Jade. Jade, wake up.”

Nothing. He is sound asleep like a rock. “Jade?” However hesitant, you still try to shake him a bit more forcefully. “Wake up, Jade.”

Ugh, this is getting you nowhere. Part of you thinks he is putting up another identity and pretending to be a deep sleeper. Jade is rarely truthful. He always speaks in rhymes and half-truths. For a simple potion to untangle his tongue so thoroughly wants you yearn to discover just a bit more about him.

In this uneasy friendship of mouse and cat, you have found yourself enjoying discovering the hidden, earnest parts of Jade Leech. It is an unexpected development.

Though, it stings that he only keeps you around for entertainment and abuse.

Cringing, you think you stumbled upon what will finally rouse him from his sleep. You lean down to his ear and lie, “Jade, I was wondering if you would feed me some of the new mushrooms from your hikes? Pretty please?”

Unamused, you watch Jade’s eyelashes serenely flutter open like he is Sleeping Beauty. Asshat. Groggily, a pair of eyes stare up at you in disbelief, probably anticipating his brother or his housewarden. But, those blissful words you said seem to have him arouse as he stretches from his bed like a rising cat.

“(Name)?” He asks, sitting up in bed. “What are you doing in my room?”

A sheepish hand travels up to cover your pulse. Leaning heavy on your right foot, you lie with a chuckle, “Ah, Floyd dragged me here. Said you were sick with a fever. I’m not sure how he expects me to help though, heh.”

You know you should not … but you want to play with this. A sadistic part of you wants to watch him squirm and wiggle. Under the guise of coming over to assist him with a fever, you can only imagine Jade will try to hide the fact he is under a truth serum.

“Ah, Floyd is mistaken. I am not sick.”

That response is unusually curt for Jade; it seems he is going to try to conceal this as long as possible. You cannot wait to stretch out his resistrant like it is a stringy ligament you are drawing and quartering until it snaps. “Oh, that’s just unusual because you are sleeping when you should be in class. Slacking off?”

“Yes, I should be in class.” Jade remains firm in his bed, giving you a polite smile. Additionally, he is firm in his resolve to not give up any information. Even under a botched potion, his self control is strong; you wonder if there is anything that could ever make him act out.

Once again ignorant, you do not know that answer is quite simply: you.

However, there is one question you have been burning and yearning to know. Coy, you ask, “Well, that’s no good. Skipping classes like that. Though, you know I was wondering …Did you put mushrooms in that beef wellington a few weeks ago?”

“Yes.”

Something in you snaps. “AH, I knew it! You asshat!” You raise a fist, throwing yourself at Jade. “That’s disgusting, Jade! A violation of friendship! Where was it!”

As Jade bats away your flying fists, he says without much resistance against the truth serum, “In the duxelles sauce.”

You punctuate each time you call him a donkey wearing a tophat with a hit to his shoulder. Stronger than you, as natural of your protector, Jade is able to evade your hits well. The ones that land he lets land. Yet, having had enough, Jade soon grabs your wrist and with a laugh says, “Fufufu, you are so utterly adorable with your instinct to hit things.”

Blank-faced, you blink at Jade. “... Adorable?” It is not a world altering sentence; you bet Jade finds the prey that skitter away from him back home in the Coral Sea pitifully adorable too. Still, the revelation is a bit of a shock to the heart.

“Well, not solely adorable. No, there is a whole library in my soul dedicated to describing you. There are moments when you are irresistible as –” Whatever poetry Jade was going to wax, he halts it by slamming a hand over his mouth, horrified. Your eyes lock in shared terror.

“Wh-what,” you stammer, pulling away from Jade.

He grabs you by your shoulders before you get too far. With desperation, he pulls you right back to him. Then, Jade appears stricken, dueling in his head whether he should force you to stay or allow you to leave. It is like both of you have stumbled upon something horrifying and left speechless. Speechless at least until Jade grits out, “I … I think you should go.”

Having the upperhand of remembering he is under a truth serum, you ask softly, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I ache when you leave. I wish I had the foresight to length out our contract terms, so I could see you more.” The sheets look like they could tear like paper mache under Jade’s grip. With wobbling lips, he forces a smile full of teeth onto his face. “Don’t you think this humiliation is quite enough?”

To be honest hypotheses have been forming in your head quite some time ago. However, after your last botched potion, embarrassment ate up your speculation on if Jade reciprocated what you felt growing in yourself over time. Now, variables are tipping in your favor. And he has been such a mean cat to you so …

You sit yourself on the edge of Jade’s bed; the first sadistic grin you have ever shown him blooms on your face. “Why, no, I hardly think I’ve done enough.” Leg now up on the mattress, you hook your arms around the body part and lean forward, teasing, “You’re never this honest with anyone, Jade.”

“Best to keep one’s cards close to the chest, don’t you agree? With the way you were acting last time we saw each other, it was like you fumbled the entire deck.”

Your left eye twitches. Cracks appearing in your confidence, you grit out, “Oh, did I? I actually don’t remember all that happened; perhaps you can enlighten me. How did it feel to be so … seduced?”

“I have never known such bliss … Really, (Name), this is painful for me.”

As sheets tear under Jade’s twisting fists, your confidence refuels itself. Being in control like this is exhilarating, you can see why Jade enjoys it so. His squirming is so cute! Smug, you purr, “Oooh I see~” You take in Jade’s grimace with satisfaction and ask, “So, me? Really? When did that start?”

“Since that day in the botanical gardens.”

Your smile drops. “Huh?” Slowly, the landscape of your flesh succumbs to geysering blood. Flustering heat rises and lives on each inch of your face. Because – “Ha … heh, huh?” – you started feeling something naturally after the potion incident where you were turned into a mer. To know his emotions have been kept classified, under lock-and-key for so long; it leaves you dizzy with a blush. Perhaps you aren’t fit for the role of the cat.

However, Jade misjudges your sudden silence for fear. He does not dare to reach out. “Please, don’t be afraid of me.”

“Jade?”

“The very thought that you could makes me sick.”

You take in Jade’s cumbersome words, speechless. They soak into you like blood to a sponge. Fragile and human, your eyelashes twitch over your eyes, jittery until you half-lid your vision. A charmed chuckle escapes your lips, “oh Jade.”

His skin is so smooth. Cradling his cheek in your metaphorical claws, you smile lovestruck without the love potion. His face starts to beam a light, delicate pink. Cute and delicate and innocent … These are things that Jade is not. But under your warped vision, and through countless new experiments, you can squeeze him to fit the description.

“I could never be afraid of you. After all you’ve done for me … How you protected me? I don’t care about the teeth; I don’t care about the biology. I don’t need deep sea knowledge to know I like you … and I hope you like me too?”

You do not let him answer, fearful of the raw truth that could possibly be not what you want to hear, pressing a kiss to his lips.

His answer –the solution to the hypothesis – is given in his kiss.

#twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland #twst jade #lwk hate this but we UP‼️‼️

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adancingalien · 2 months

Text

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Benjicot/Davos Blackwood x bracken!reader

summary: after learning of your impending betrothal to another, you and Benji make a plan to stop it

warning: smut 18+ no use of y/n this fic revolves around pregnancy and has some light breeding kinks towards the end. the reader in this is able to get pregnant and is described as a woman.

word count: 3.9k

note: its finally here! i've really enjoyed writing this fic, its been a while since written one and i've never written smut so if its not the best sorry lol. thank you for everyone's support! i hope you guys like it <3 next time I post it will be on this account @dancingaliensfics so if you like this follow that account. also a couple people asked me to tag them so here you go x @alifeinspiredd @gotranting

It's Early in the morning when your father gives you the news. The sun had risen only an hour prior, the days growing short as winter approached, and your mother sat across from you.

Marriage.

You spend some time considering the thought whilst eating your porridge. In any other case, it would have been good news. The list your father had created so far was filled with well-suited men. You recognised some, two Bracken cousins you knew well, a Mallister boy you’d met at a tourney. They were all reasonable ages, only one was older than thirty and he seemed to be an afterthought. Your father assured you that he'd consider your opinion in his choice.

Truthly you were lucky, if it was a year earlier you'd be excited. But the one name you wanted, the only man you would ever consider marrying, wasn't on the list and never would be.

Benjicot Blackwood.

Heir to Raventree Hall, the seat of your enemy house, the man who'd captured your heart 10 moons ago.

And so you sit in silence, eyes distant, as your father speaks to you of balls and meetings and gifts. Your mother watches you quietly, although what goes through her mind you cannot say. Eventually, the conversation fades to noise as you watch the last streaks of pink fade from the sky.

You meet with Benjicot in the same spot you always do. A field of clover and wildflowers, sheltered from the gaze of Stone Hedge by a small patch of woodland. He brings you a bouquet of dandelions, dittander and hedge bindweed he picked himself along the path. Every time you meet he brings you one and each time he hands it to you with that grin before hiding his face in your neck. You love it, and after all this time you still feel your heart flutter at the sight, no matter how torn and pathetic the blooms themselves usually are.

Gods, you love him. And you're certain you'll never love anyone else the same. Still, you hope he hasn't found the bindweed from near your gardens, it's beautiful but so quickly consumes all other plants.

He flops onto the grass and then beckons for you to do the same. Benji wraps his arms around your side and you lean your head on his chest as he begins to tell you about some skirmish at the hedge stones.

“Those Brackens think they can do whatever they please whenever they choose. You’d think they'd have learnt their lesson after the beating we gave them last time.”

As he speaks you pluck at blades of grass beside you, tearing the seeds from the stem. He often forgets your heritage, as you do his, and the reminder makes you anxious.

“Still,” you mutter, “I wish you wouldn't rush so quickly into battle.”

Benji turns his head to look down at you and you feel his breath on your face. He pauses for a few moments, watching you closely before responding.

“You needn't worry, dove, I can hold my own, especially against some Bracken bastards.” His words are harsh and said with a grin but you can feel the sentiment behind them. Still, his answer doesn't satisfy you.

“You're not the only person I stand to lose in a battle.”

The two of you tend to speak little of the different sides you sit on, choosing instead to focus on your shared qualities. But since your father's announcement that morning, you find your heritage is all you can think of.

His hands tighten on your side and he begins to shift in the way he often does when unsettled. “Tell your bracken brethren to stay on their side of the lines then.”

“Yes because it is such a simple thing, to announce our ties to my whole family!” You turn from him with a huff pulling hard on the piece of grass in your grasp. You regret your words immediately but find yourself unwilling to apologise.

Benji pulls his brows tight, running his fingers over the hem of your skirt. He looks like a scolded dog, his face sullen and eyes moving quickly.

“I’m sorry.” He looks at you softly for a moment. “Will you tell me what's bothering you love? You've been down all day.”

You pause for a while, having pulled away all the grass in your little patch, leaving your fingernails stained green.

“My father gave me news.” You lift your head to look at Benji, his eyes watching you closely. “He's finding me a husband.”

“No.” The response comes quickly and with strong conviction.

Baffled by his response, your brows furrow. “What do you mean no?”

“I simply won't let it happen. You're mine and I'm yours and we were destined to be together, I know it. You will not be with anyone else.”

You pull a pained face, turning away from him. How can he say that with such certainty? That he simply won't let your father marry you off as though it's such a simple thing. It's both endearing and irritating.

“It's not so simple you know.” You look out at the setting sun as you speak, “I've been trying to think of ways to avoid it but truthfully, I have nothing to complain about. What can I say to stop it? I've spent so long thinking of options but nothing seems right.”

Benji takes hold of your hands, gazing at you with such intensity it catches you off guard.

“We'll run away together, you and me, right now.”

Your eyes widen and you stumble on your thoughts. What an idea. It's a pleasant thought really and part of you is compelled to accept, to leap up and run away with Benji in that moment. But it is not this part of you that speaks.

“What- Benji- I cannot, we cannot! Where would we even go.”

“Essos, the free cities, the North, gods I'd go to the Iron Islands if it meant I could marry you. Anywhere in the world where the names bracken and blackwood mean nothing.” your heart skips at the thought, that Benjicot Blackwood would abandon his title and land and family to be with you. Travel to an unknown land and begin again. It's a feeling that quickly spreads through your body leaving you warm and filled with a joy so strong it again compels you to accept and leave in that moment.

You run your fingers over his knuckles, feeling the healed cuts and scrapes that cover them. You consider your own family, of your mother, sat at her window, waiting for you to return home. Your father, sending out his men to fruitlessly search across all of Westeros for his beloved daughter.

“I can't Benji.”

“Then we'll go in a few days instead, you can pack your things, and I'll think of a plan of where to go-”

“No Benji.” you look into his eyes. You see in them a future and a path you cannot take at this moment. “I couldn't do that to my family, couldn't leave them forever and you couldn't either. It would break your mother's heart.”

Your words sour his mood and he visibly shrinks. You take his hands fully in your own and reach over to kiss him softly on the cheek. You can feel slight stubble and realise he must have rushed out after receiving your letter. How you love this man.

It isn’t long before you see a new thought arrive in his mind and it's clear he does no further thinking before sharing it.

“I'll just take you then!”

Truthly, your expectations were not high but you still find yourself floored by the stupidity of his ‘plan’.

“What.” You can simply find no other words.

Benji turns to face you fully, squeezing your hands tightly. He has a crazed look on his face and you wonder if this is what your Bracken brethren see on the battlefield.

“Listen, I’ll simply take you with me to Raventree Hall and we will wed there.” He must notice your unimpressed look as he quickly continues. “That way you don't have to go too far and your family will know you're safe. Sure it'll take some time for those Bracken curs to accept it but eventually they'll have to and then you can see them when you please.”

“Safe? Benji, you've come up with some terrible ideas but this is a new level. It would be war! You really believe that my father, that any bracken would simply accept a blackwood taking their daughter in the night?”

“Then war it would be. I'd kill a thousand men to keep you.”

“A thousand of my men, my blood! Yes, what a beautiful honeymoon it would be, setting the funeral piers of my family.”

He falls silent at this and looks down at his hands. You can see him thinking but he has the sense to keep his thoughts to himself. After a few minutes, you sigh and take his hands back in yours, having dropped them at some point during your rant. Leaning over, you capture his lips in your own for just a moment and when you pull away he follows after you.

“Just… leave it to me. I shall think of a plan for us. We can keep yours as a last resort, yes?”

He brightens at this, happy to trust in your judgement. He agrees quickly before closing the small space between you.

It's a week later when you send a raven summoning Benji. As a child, you had discovered passages within Stone Hedge which had long been forgotten and often used them to pass in and out of the castle. Now you and Benji used them to visit each other in secret. It's a few days before he is able to make his way to Stone Hedge, having been corralled by his father into some dull political nonsense you couldn't care less about. By the time he makes it to you, slipping into your chambers using the passage hidden behind large tapestries, you feel truly desperate for him.

It's overwhelming really, how much you love him. Your entire body aches for him, your mind thinks of him at all times. The thought of marrying another leaves you ill and to imagine laying with a man that isn't Benji is truly mad. He knows you in ways no other has, and, if you get your way, never will. So really it's not a surprise that upon seeing you waste no time in pressing yourself to him. As your lips meet you can feel all the stress of the past days leave your mind and you quickly forget what it was you summoned him for. It seems Benji has found himself in a similar position to you as his hands begin to explore your body through your evening gown. His soft touch turns rough as you run your fingers through the coarse strands of his hair.

You pull away, moving toward to settee. He trails after, lounging next to you with his around your shoulders, fingers toying with your hair.

“I’ve had much time to think,” you say hands resting on your lap. “And I believe I've thought of a solution. It’s mad truly, but it is the best chance we have. I am certain I want it but if you do not you must say and that will be final. It is not a decision to take lightly.”

At your serious tone, Benji straightens and looks at you fully. You are nervous, such a proposal is hardly made easily and yet you feel certain in your bones that he will accept. You know he loves you, there is no doubt about it. You only wonder if he is truly ready for a life together.

“I would do anything to be with you, dove. Tell me and it'll be done.”

You sigh at his words, both from frustration and adoration.

“Do not say such things before you hear the proposal.”

“Then tell me it so that I may say them with informed certainty.”

You look him in the eyes then, struggling to find a way to say what you mean.

“I would have your child.”

Benji pauses at this, and you can see confusion in his eyes before he speaks.

“Yes. when we wed we shall have many children, as many as you wish.”

“No Benji,” you squeeze his hands tightly and push yourself to speak. “My father will never choose you as my husband so we must give him no choice. If I was with child, with your child, he would have to accept a marriage or risk shame upon myself and our house. I know my father well and I am sure he would choose my happiness over tradition.”

At this, Benjicot stops and his face falls blank. It's as if his mind is —- and you wait patiently for his response.

“It is…” he stops and then restarts “I would love nothing more than to have a child with you. It is something I have dreamt of and I truly believe myself ready for such responsibility. I do not doubt the longevity of my love for you. So please do not think it is commitment with gives me pause. It is just…” he begins to play with your fingers, nervous energy flowing through him. He stands quickly, releasing your hands though you are used to his restlessness and simply wait for him to return. He paces in a small circle, running his hand through his hair and then returns to his seat.

“I would not do that to you,” he says finally. You look at him in surprise, his answer seeming nonsensical to you.

“You have done it to me many times.”

“No not that,” he says quickly, covering his face in his hands as he thinks again how to phrase what he means.

“I wouldn't put you through such treatment! As an unwed woman to father a child by you. No, I couldn't dishonour you like that.”

“Dishonour me? Benji, you have dishonoured me more times than I could count. By simply being here in this room you dishonour me. We have laid together, many times. If this was a concern of yours, you should have voiced it long ago.” your words are tinged with amusement.

Benjicot stands again, moving his arms wildly.

“And what of how you would be treated? Not just by your parents but every member of the court, the servants, anyone who knew of it. You would be shamed and shunned by others.”

“You think I care what others say of me?”

“I think you will care when it happens.”

“Do not make assumptions on my behalf. I am my own woman, I can make my own choices. And I do not need you, Benjicot Blackwood, to decide such things for me.”

You pause, breathing deeply in an attempt to remove the heat from your voice. It isn’t your intention to force Benji to do this with you and you fear if you continue to argue your meaning will be lost.

“If your reasons to not go forth are your own, because you do not feel ready or because you do not want to, then that is fine and I will accept it.”

Your attempt to calm the situation backfires miserably and your words light a fire inside of Benji.

“Of course not, didn’t say I would marry you in that field? That I would give up everything to be with you. Do not doubt my love.”

“I do not doubt it, Benji. But if you are willing to give up your titles and home, go through battle and fight hundreds to have me, why can't you trust that I would endure the shame of a pregnancy outside of wedlock for you?”

At last, Benji returns to his spot next to you. He looks into the fire but his gaze is distant.

“I can protect you from danger, from enemies. I can kill any man that threatens you. I can stand with you in fire and pain. But I can’t save you from cruel words and shame. This is… it's something you’ll have to bear alone. And I hate the thought of it.”

At last, you understand his meaning. Benjicot Blackwood is not a man who often loses control. He is fierce and strong and can slay any man who comes in his path.

“I am strong. And I can protect myself, just this once. And you will be stood with, at my side, to give me strength when I fail.”

“I know, I just fear you aren’t ready.”

“I am ready.”

A coy smile spreads across your face.

“Let me convince you.”

At that you kiss him, one hand placed on his cheek and the other on his chest. He quickly reciprocates and you move closer until you can throw one leg over his lap. His hands find your hair, attempting to undo your intricate braids before pulling away in frustration and glaring at the strands. You laugh lightly, moving to remove your pins as he reaches for your neck, leaving a firm bite before his tongue lathes over the area. His ministrations pull a soft moan from your mouth and as he lifts your skirts to run his hand up the soft skin of your thigh, your hair is released.

His other hand quickly finds its way into your hair, fingers weaving into the strands before your head is pulled back allowing better access to your neck. As Benji continues trailing kisses across your neck and chest, you begin to move yourself on his lap, grinding against him as you feel his cock harden beneath his breeches. How you long to feel him inside you, and the thought of him staying even as he reached his peak, seed spilling inside you, has you moving with increased vigour. Benji begins to let out his quiet groans and pants to match your soft moaning and it's not long before he has your behind held firmly in his grip.

His mouth reaches the neckline of your dresses and begins to suck marks onto your skin while you fumble with the fastening of your gown. Once the bodice is undone and the stays are loosened, he pulls them down, taking your breasts into his hands. His mouth quickly latches onto one of your peaks and his tongue swirls around them. He shows you no mercy in his actions, hands pressing so tight they are sure to leave bruises. Benji moves his hand to your core, fingers covering themselves in your wetness before pressing against your clit. They move quickly, circling your bud for some time before travelling towards your hole. His thumb moves to take its place, pressing firmly against you as it rubs. His fingers prod gently at your hole, before one slips inside. He stays like this, easing his finger inside of you until you're ready to take another. His fingers move inside of you for a few minutes, your walls clenching around them as they stroke, before they increase in speed, beginning to curl deep inside of you. Benji continues to assault your chest, relishing in the moans and whines he pulls from your lips.

It isn't long, however, before he pulls away from your chest to speak.

“I need you, my love.” he lifts your chin so that your eyes meet. You lean forward and kiss him, giving your answer through your actions. He removes his fingers from you, wiping them on your dress much to your disgust before standing, holding you with his hands beneath your ass and your legs around his waist.

He moves quickly towards the bed and, though he's strong, you can see him focusing on not dropping you. You take the chance to join your lips to his neck, leaving your marks there. Although you know him to be faithful to you, you can’t stand the thought of any Blackwood whore making a pass at him and the hickeys serve to claim him as yours. Gods, you think, you must stop thinking in such ways, you’ll be a Blackwood yourself soon. The thought leaves you giddy and you grin at his neck. Benji drops you rather unceremoniously onto the bed before staring at you with a bemused look on his face.

“What you grinning about him?”

“Just the thought that I will soon be your wife.”

His grin widens at that and he leans down to capture your lips once again.

“Yes, my wife and I'll be your husband.”

You kiss him again, biting his lip and tugging on it slightly.

“All mine.” your words pull a deep moan from him.

It isn’t long before both of you have stripped completely and you find yourself lying back on the sheets, Benji between your legs. He moves quickly above you, rubbing his cock against your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit with every stroke. You moan wantonly, fingers reaching up to pull Benji towards your lips by the hair. Your firm grip causes him to groan deeply into your mouth and his movements increase in speed. It isn't long though before you pull away.

“Benji, darling, I need you inside of me please.”

You're expecting him to tease you, and make a joke about your begging and neediness but instead, he lets out a long breath, before reaching down and taking himself in hand. He runs the tip of his cock along your wetness once more before pressing inside of you. Your body accepts him eagerly and it isn't long before he fills you. How could you ever marry another when even your body is moulded perfectly to him? The sounds of your pleasure harmonise as Benji begins to move inside of you. His thrusts are fast and deep as always, his hips snapping against yours with every thrust. You feel your mind slipping as your sounds increase in volume. Your hands roam his whole body. Filthy words spill from your lips.

“Benji please my love- ah- I must have you. Please”

“You have me sweet one, you have me.”

You pull roughly on his hair at his words.

“No I must have all of you, please I need your seed. I want you to cum inside me.”

His hips stutter before his thrusts continue with increased fervour.

“Fill me please Benji, it will feel so good.”

Benji lays his head in the crook of your neck moaning without restraint. You feel yourself reaching your peak quickly and want him to cum with you. You lift your legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, moaning, turning to shrieks.

“I love you so much Benji,” you cry out, fingernails leaving scratches down his back. “I love you and I want your baby, please cum inside me.”

At your words, Benji lets out a choked sound, hips pressing firm against you, and feels the warmth of his release spill inside of you, pulling you to your peak alongside him. Your eyes squeeze shut, but if they hadn’t you would have seen the most delightful look on Benji’s face and he finished inside of you. It takes some time for his cock to stop twitching and even longer for the both of you to come back to the world of the living. Benji begins to lift himself off of you, but you tighten your legs.

“Stay.”

A simple command that he follows without question.

#benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #davos blackwood #benjicot x reader #davos blackwood x reader #hotd

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is.

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away The blues walked in and met me Oh, yeah if he stays away Old rocking chair’s gonna get me All I do is pray...’

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you.

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones.

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent.

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue.

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight.

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line.

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized.

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides.

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive.

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang.

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness.

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here.

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward.

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?”

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily.

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top.

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America.

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses.

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly.

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm.

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.”

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place.

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right?

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs.

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?”

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.”

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow.

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?”

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.”

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint.

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?”

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek.

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl.

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.”

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?”

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction.

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.”

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him.

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.”

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers.

“Sure, it’s three.”

“Number?”

“310.”

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign.

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him.

“It’s unlocked,” you say.

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table.

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly.

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through.

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.”

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.”

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you.

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath.

“You okay?” He turns the question on you.

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile.

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance.

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...”

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.”

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.”

“Right,” you work more diligently.

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity.

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?”

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are.

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial.

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?”

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach.

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut.

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.”

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand.

“You must be pretty far along,” he says.

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.”

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?”

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.”

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack.

“So, you want some?” You ask.

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.”

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.”

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--”

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say.

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.”

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.”

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...”

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods.

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #roads untraveled #silverfox au #au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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unstable-samurai · 3 months

Text

The Shy Nerdy Best Friend is Actually Pretty Cool... and Hot

Minnie x Male Reader

one-shot

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, Confession, babying, drunk reader, penetration, blowjob, cumshot...

You don't remember much from that night. One of the few alcohol-induced blackouts you've had in your life, with fragmented memories blurred like a distant dream, some real, others not. Vague, like the first memory of your childhood, but not as special. Based on what Minnie said, you were brought to her house by some of your "friends" after drinking all you could at a stupid party you didn't even want to go to. The idea was for Minnie to take care of you, 'cause, in the condition you were in, staying alone at home was risky and, well, none of your "friends" - and these were their words - would act like your "mother"...

except for her...

The doorbell rang around 09:30 PM.

She answered the door with curious astonishment, probably having been asleep when this hurricane of voices hit her door.

"He's all yours!" said one of your friends, pushing you towards Minnie.

"HEY, WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!" she asked alarmed. "... What happened to him...?"

"He's drunker than the devil. We brought him here for you to keep an eye on him," said the other friend, the one who drove to Minnie's house.

"Me?!"

"Of course. We're not his mom to take care of the guy." They looked at each other and laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world. "You've done this before, right?"

"No. Last time he was sick. I don't know how to take care of a drunk person!" she tried to explain while using all her strength to keep you upright.

The problem was that you weighed almost twice as much as she did.

"Great. It's practically the same thing!"

"We're going back to the party! Tell him to call us tomorrow. See you later, babe!" he said, ironically, of course.

"Hey... are you okay?" Minnie asked you.

"Your hair is all messy," you said, messing up her hair even more.

"I was napping on the couch. And you're a complete mess. But let's get inside, you weigh more than a bull!"

You put your arm around Minnie and dragged yourself into the house with her. She helped you sit on the couch; your head was spinning and everything seemed terribly distant. When you looked at Minnie, she seemed to be staring at you, but you weren't sure. In your state, even her action figures seemed to be watching you.

"I think I'm bothering you. I am, aren't I?" you asked. "I can go home. I can walk just fine."

You made a motion to get up.

"Sit down, idiot!" she said, pushing you back onto the couch. "It's okay. I'm just worried about you. Did you take any drugs?"

"Hmm, I don't think so," you replied, terribly sincere.

She brought you a glass of water. While you were drinking, she asked:

"I tried to talk to you several times today. I called and texted you. I thought we were going to marathon that stupid Hobbit trilogy.”

"Looks like I had better plans," you replied sarcastically.

"Uh-huh, it seems so..."

"Can I lay my head on your lap? I want you."

You didn't notice, but she blushed.

"Alright, I guess."

You laid your head on her lap and closed your eyes. Minnie started to gently stroke your hair.

"You should stop going to those parties. There's nothing good about them. And your friends always abandon you at the end of them."

"I wished you were there with me," you confessed.

"You know I don't like parties. And if I went, your friends would probably just laugh at me if I were there."

"That's true. It's really true. Damn, it's a damn truth... I think I drank to try to forget about you a little." You revealed suddenly. "I was feeling bad for breaking my promise to you."

"Why didn't you want to come?"

"I've been a little irritated with you lately."

"Why? What did I do?! I'm sorry! ... But what did I do?"

You laughed like an idiot.

"Your way, your tastes, your clothes, your voice, your smell irritate me... man, the list is long."

She immediately stopped stroking your hair.

"Oh... got it."

"All of that irritates me because I... because I love all those things about you and I can't admit it. It irritates me that you're perfect... in a good way. Sorry. "You hugged her around the waist, hiding your face in Minnie's belly, who stood paralyzed.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"You're so good to me while I treat you terribly. I wish I were a better guy." You commented, sounding like an embarrassed confession.

"No, no! You treat me so well! You're so sweet to me."

"No... it's just... when I'm with my friends, they make jokes about you and say I hang out with you just to get easy sex or whatever... The problem is I never raise my voice to defend you, I just sulk or change the subject like a damn coward. No one should talk about you like that... Damn, I think I'm going to vomit!"

"Ew! Don't vomit on me!”

You stumbled to your feet and Minnie guided you to the bathroom. You managed to make it to the toilet in time, avoiding vomiting all over her bathroom.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

You waited for the sound of the toilet flushing to pass, then replied, "You could have held my hair while I was puking. Where are your manners?"

She chuckled and sat against the bathroom wall.

"You're such an idiot, you know."

"Do you still want to watch The Hobbit trilogy?"

"It's already too late, and besides, in your state, you wouldn't be able to focus on staring at a wall for 1 minute."

"I guess you're right."

"Hey, seriously, you should stop hanging out with those guys. They're not your real friends."

"I just hang out with them, you know, so I'm not alone."

"You have me."

You silently observed Minnie for too long, making her start to feel uncomfortable. You tried to think of something good to say to her, something that would make her feel better, because, well, after revealing that those guys were mocking her behind her back, it was the least you could do.

"Is that Tweety?" you asked, pointing to her blouse.

"Yep! Do you like it?"

"It looks like you. The glasses and all. It's pretty cute. Do you think I could get a Tweety shirt?"

"Finding a male Tweety shirt for you will be tough."

"No problem. I'll definitely look better in that baby tee than you, no offense. By the way, is Tweety male or female?"

"Tweety is male!"

"Ah, I never noticed."

"Hey, I was serious when I said you have me. You like me, right? We're friends?"

"Minnie you are my best friend, please."

"Then it doesn't make sense you to hang out with people who are constantly mocking me. Now that you've said that, I won't accept you continuing to be friends with them and me at the same time!" she protested.

"Hmm... Okay. That's fair. I'll kill all of them for you."

"I'm serious. You're going to have to choose between me or them."

"I choose you. You, Minnie."

You clumsily crawled over and hugged her, squeezing her small body against yours, which was one of your favorite feelings.

"Okay, okay. I get it! But I don't think this is the most hygienic place for us to hug." Minnie helped you to your feet. "Go take a shower and see if you can get rid of that vomit breath.”

“If I do everything right, do I get a kiss?”

“No way! You’re drunk. In the morning, I want you saying all this to me again. If it’s really true, then tomorrow will be a very special day for me…”

“I love you, Minnie,” you whispered, looking into her eyes. “I want to be your man so badly. It even makes me feel like crying when I think about it.”

She playfully tapped your chest and pushed you away, giggling nervously.

“I love you too. I really do,” she said with a shy smile. “I’ll get some clothes you left here for you to wear. Please don’t slip in the bathroom because I won’t have the strength to lift you.”

"I'm not an idiot to slip in the bathroom."

"But you can act like one sometimes." she said, before closing the door.

"Do you want to play Mortal Kombat?" you asked Minnie as she dried her hair with the hairdryer in her room.

"WHAT?!"

"I asked if you want to play Mortal Kombat!" You said, now louder. "This darn hairdryer sounds like a jet engine!"

She turned it off.

“If I beat you while sober, imagine drunk as you are now. No, you need to eat. Soup will be good for you."

"Cup Noodles, that's it!"

"No! Real soup. Light and with vegetables. I actually ordered some."

"Ah," you grumbled disheartened. "I've lost my appetite."

"But you're going to eat!"

"Fine, fine! If you insist... Hey, is that a Smurf on the table?"

"My goodness, you look so lost when you're drunk. Like your brain has shrunk," Minnie said casually, trying to hide a laugh. "That's a Squirtle. And you're the one who gave it to me as a gift."

"This is actually quite offensive on your part. I'm sharper than most drunks."

"Aw, don't be offended." She pinched your cheeks like a baby. Minnie was definitely taking advantage of the fact that you were drunk.

And in a way, you thought she was entitled to it.

Once again in her lap, you ended up discovering that night that this was your favorite place. Warm and protected from any harm. And even intoxicated, sparks of lucidity allowed you to see through the smoke that hovered over your mind. No, better than that, it allowed you to feel the security that Minnie had when she was by your side, singing "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles to you. And singing was something she didn't do around anyone; insecurity and shyness prevented her from doing so. In this way, she hid one of her greatest talents because she sang in an angelic manner, extremely comfortable with her own voice, sounding good without any instrument to accompany her. The fact was that if it weren't for the headache, you would have been sure you were in a sublime dream.

"That was the best lullaby I've ever heard," you murmured.

"I thought you were already asleep."

"Sing more."

"No, that's enough. You need to sleep."

"I want to hear you sing every night," you said, and Minnie laughed because you wore a silly, goofy smile. Apparently, your facial expressions weren't entirely under control.

"I hope I can sing to you every night. Just for you." Minnie slid her finger slowly across your nose, watching you with an enigmatic expression. She took advantage of the fact that your eyes were closed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Uh-huh... sure," you mumbled.

"Have you always been ashamed of me? Regardless of your answer, it won't matter because you're drunk."

You immediately stood up from her lap, feeling dizzy and alarmed, but rational enough to say:

"I want you to meet my parents, Minnie. Um, I was planning to tell you tomorrow, after you agreed to be my girlfriend. So consider this a little spoiler. I want to hold your hand and have the right to call you 'mine.'"

"Do you swear?" she asked, her lips trembling.

"Yes. All this time, the girl of my dreams has been right by my side, and I ignored it. My face is red with embarrassment now. From tomorrow onward, I'll make it up to you, and if you give me a chance, I'll make you feel special every day. Just as you deserve."

"Besides bad jokes and terrible taste in movies, you're also quite good at romance. God, I wish I could kiss you right now..."

"Okay, so I'll do it in your place. Excuse me, I'm going to kiss your forehead," you said, leaning closer to her.

Amid giggles, she asked: "What are you doing?"

"If you'll allow me..." You lifted Minnie's bangs as if checking her temperature and then planted a quick kiss on her forehead.

"You're such a goof, my goodness."

"And I'm also crazy about you."

"Let's hope these things still hold true tomorrow," she remarked, and you saw her eyes sparkle for you. "I want to believe..."

"Wait, was that an X-Files refer-?"

"Yep!" In fact, she said it by chance. "You're definitely sharper than most drunks."

“I told you, I told you!”, you exclaimed like a child.

The bedroom curtain wasn't fully closed, so a beam of light at 8:30 AM came through the window and hit your eyes, warming your skin until it became unbearable, and you opened your eyes to the whitish view of Minnie's room. Your vision returned to normal as your mind assimilated the facts. How the hell did I get here? And why am I in Minnie's bed? Oh, and It was strange for you to be in her room because when you slept at Minnie's house, you usually slept on the couch. It was hard to recap the events of the previous night, but they came to your mind in the following way:

I went to the party.

I was sad because of confusing feelings.

I drank.

I drank a lot.

Some of my "buddies" took me to Minnie's house.

She took care of me. Again.

Hmm, yeah, things probably happened this way or a similar version of it.

You looked at the clothes you were wearing. It definitely wasn't that stupid Zelda shirt you wore to the party.

Holy crap. Could it be that Minnie helped me change my clothes?

You felt completely embarrassed and afraid to find out what happened the previous night.

‘Don’t be an idiot and face it like a man.’

Words from your father when the two of you talked earlier that month about your internal conflict over admitting your romantic feelings for a particular girl. He didn't care about most of your problems, but this one irritated him. Your ridiculous concern about others' opinions on your life, your girl, who you should date... And staying silent in the face of offensive comments about your friend... He almost threw that beer in your face. If you don’t confess your feelings to this girl, then another man will, and then it will be too late. And I don't want you here ruining my Sunday afternoon because of your stupidity. He didn’t know how to say things without sounding like a retired army colonel, but you thought you deserved to hear those words in that exact tone. The time had come to put your old man's advice into practice. You quietly left the room and went to the bathroom to wash your face. From the noise, Minnie was in the kitchen cooking something. It wasn’t in your plans to confess your feelings to her with a horrendous hangover face, but damn it, you hoped she loved you for what you had inside: guts and true feelings for her.

When you got to the breakfast table in the kitchen, there was a plate of scrambled eggs, a cup of coffee, and warm toast waiting for you. Minnie was wearing an adorable overall and a gentle smile was on her face. You loved this morning view and wished it could be like this every morning.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" she asked, sitting at the table.

"I slept well," you said timidly.

"Come on, eat your breakfast." She insisted, and you joined her at the table.

"And you? Did you sleep well? You know I could have slept on the couch."

"Nah, you needed a real rest. Besides, the couch isn't that bad."

"Sorry for ruining your night."

"I saved you yesterday, you'll save me tomorrow," she said cheerfully. "Are you feeling okay?"

"My head hurts a bit, but just being conscious is a relief... By the way, you didn't change my clothes, did you?"

She put her hand to her mouth in a mock expression of shock.

"Oh my God! How do you remember this?"

"Oh, man! Fuck!"

"Just kidding! You changed yourself like a big boy!" she revealed, laughing at your reaction.

"Thank God!"

After breakfast, you helped her wash the dishes and clear the table. There was a moment of rest when you both went to the living room, the glorious morning light shining renewed, somehow lifting your spirits and giving you a bit of courage.

"Listen, Minnie, I'm not sure what I said or did yesterday. I have a feeling I might have dropped a bomb on you because I noticed you seemed a bit off during breakfast."

"I'm just a little anxious."

"I need to tell you that I've been in love with you for a while. And I've been feeling bad for not treating you the way you truly deserve. You might say it's no big deal, but to me, it is. It's something that causes me anguish, and now I want to change that if you'll give me a chance." You held Minnie’s hands, her eyes reflecting the hope in her heart, your actions feeling right and natural, without shame or hesitation in saying: "I love you, Minnie."

"I love you too. I think I've loved you since that day we shared an umbrella while walking back from the movies. You and I walking together in silence, our shoulders occasionally touching, and the rain falling around us... Oh, and you looked so handsome that day.”

"Minnie... Can I kiss you?"

You and Minnie started kissing on the couch, desire and emotion burning uncontrollably between you. Your lips met with a mix of nervousness and passion, the first kiss an electric shock that coursed through your body. She was the girl of your life, there was no doubt anymore. The reciprocity was a wet and intense response, a kiss with your tongues intertwining as you both had secretly longed for. Her hands began to explore your body, sliding over your muscles with a provocative softness. "I've wanted this for so long," she whispered against your lips, her voice laden with desire. The room seemed to heat up with the energy emanating from you, also radiant with the morning sun, the birds singing outside, and the tension between you dissolving as you surrendered to the moment. Your bodies moved closer and closer, the excitement growing with each touch and sigh.

As the kisses heated up, the intensity increased, and you lost your balance, falling off the couch in a tangle of bodies. "Oh, wait, my glasses!" Minnie exclaimed, and you gently took off her glasses and placed them on the couch. "You still look handsome, even slightly blurry," she said.

On the floor, your hands were eager, sliding over Minnie's body as you pulled down one of her overall straps, revealing the warm, soft skin beneath. With a quick movement, you removed the other strap, leaving her in just her striped top and bra. Minnie let out a low moan as she felt your firm hands lift her top, slowly exposing her small breasts covered by the bra. You pulled the bra straps down, freeing her breasts, and immediately began to play with them, sucking and squeezing them with a mix of softness and firmness. "Oh, yes, keep going," she murmured, her eyes closed and head thrown back, deliberately feeling the heat of your mouth against her skin. Her sighs filled the room, each touch and moan intensifying the excitement. Her skin was soft and fragrant, and the sensation of her nipples hardening under your tongue was very, very good.

After dedicating yourself to Minnie's breasts, you slid your lips down her abdomen, pulling her overall down a bit more. Your tongue traced a slow, teasing path, exploring the sensitive skin of her belly. "You're so hot, Minnie," you murmured between kisses, your voice full of desire for her. Minnie moaned softly, her hips moving involuntarily as you continued to adore her. "Lick me more, please," she whispered, her face flushed with excitement. Your lips and tongue explored every inch of her belly, each touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. The combination of gentle kisses and sensual licks made Minnie gasp with pleasure, her body arching with each new stimulus. "Mmmm, I love it when you do that," she moaned, her voice sweeter than ever.

You took off your stupid Zelda shirt (hoping Minnie hadn't focused too much on it). When it came time to take off your underwear, Minnie took charge, deftly pulling it off and tossing it aside without hesitation. She looked at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes before wrapping her lips around your cock. "I always knew you had a big cock; I could see how it bulged in some of the pants you wore," she revealed. Somehow, Minnie's sudden confidence made her even sexier, and your arousal ridiculously uncontrollable. The warm, wet sensation of her mouth around you was overwhelming, each movement of her tongue making your whole body tremble with pleasure. The sounds of sucking and Minnie's muffled moans filled the living room, a rhythm so pleasurable to hear. Watching her alternate between gentle and intense movements, driven by such devotion, was... beautiful, an erotic work of art for your eyes. Her lovely lips wrapped around your cock with such need, her hands caressing your thighs with so much care and love, Minnie's eyes never leaving yours. Her hair was loose, the perfect invitation to grab it and thrust your cock against Minnie's throat, helping to make it even wetter.

Minnie begged you to fuck her, feeling increasingly aroused. You sat on the floor, leaning your back against the couch as she finished taking off her clothes.

"Is this your first time?" you asked.

"No. I actually used to see a guy back in college; we had sex a few times, but he was terrible... You're suprised?"

“Oh, no. Maybe a little. Bu- Hmm, well, do you happen to have a condom?"

"I'm the last person who would have condoms at home," she said with a silly laugh. “But I think from now on this will change.”

The moment you were sharing became more intense and intimate, and Minnie, feeling increasingly aroused, noticed how wet her pussy was. She decided to heighten the sensation, rubbing your cock between her pussy lips, moaning softly with each movement. "My god, I'm so wet for you," she whispered, her voice full of lust. Minnie began to slap your cock against her pussy, each hit making her moan louder. "Look how my little pussy is dripping, babe..." she teased, her eyes fixed on yours, full of desire. You couldn't resist; you grabbed your cock and started slapping it against Minnie's pussy. "Oh, yes... hit it hard..." "Fuck, this feels so good, Minnie." The contact between you increased the sexual tension, Minnie's moans becoming louder and more frequent. "My pussy is begging for you, babe," she said between sighs and moans. The friction between your bodies made the desire grow almost unbearably, leaving her even more excited and ready for the next step: Minnie finally slid your cock inside her, letting out a deep moan of pleasure. "Oh, yes, this is so good," she exclaimed, starting to ride you with rhythmic movements. The sensation of being inside her was indescribable, each pulse of excitement increasing your pleasure. Minnie moved with an intensity that made your whole body vibrate, her moans blending with yours. "You make me feel so good," she murmured, Minnie's hands resting on your chest as she rode faster and faster. Her petite body over yours, consumed by genuine passion for you and your cock.

The atmosphere between you reached its peak as Minnie continued riding you with fervor, her movements becoming more frantic as the climax approached. "I'm gonna cum... oh, I'm gonna cum so hard," she screamed, her eyes closed and her face contorted with pleasure. You could feel the heat and wetness around your cock as she rode faster and faster, her body trembling with excitement. "Yeah, come on, come for me, baby!" you said, panting, and with a final scream of pleasure, Minnie finally came, her body shaking violently as she fell apart on top of you. Sweat dripped from your bodies, your heavy breathing a testament to the intensity of the moment. She relaxed on you, completely spent, her eyes meeting yours with a satisfied and exhausted look, the glow of pleasure still reflecting in her pupils. The connection between you proved to be real; if the declarations, looks, and gestures weren't conclusive enough before, now every sigh and touch reaffirmed the intensity of the shared experience that only two people in love can feel.

But

Despite Minnie's intense orgasm, you still hadn't cum. Realizing this, Minnie smiled mischievously and murmured, "I'm going to make you cum now." She lifted herself for a moment, only to sit back down on your cock, her body still trembling with residual pleasure. Minnie began to grind intensely, her movements desperate and full of fervor. Your moans interspersed with your panting breath, your eyes closed, completely sedated by the sensation and the imminent explosion, still focused on not coming inside her. A lethal adrenaline rush. "Cum for me... please, cum for me," she begged, her voice broken by desire and urgency. "Oh, fuck, oh god! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, babe..." Minnie said, her words and the movements of her hips creating an irresistible mix of pleasure and pressure.

Then, the intensity of Minnie's movements, combined with her words, pushed you to the edge. Feeling the climax approaching, you announced, "I'm gonna cum, Minnie,"

Fuck…Her eyes shining with excitement… She got off you and begged: "Cum on my face... I want all your cum on my face." You quickly got up, your body trembling with anticipation. Minnie knelt in front of you, looking up at you with a gaze full of expectation and desire. With a final grunt, you stroked your cock rapidly and ejaculated onto her, the hot, pulsing jets covering her face. Minnie closed her eyes, moaning as she felt every drop, a smile of pure satisfaction forming on her lips, blending her shyness, naughtiness, and cuteness.

The room was filled with the smell of sex and sweat, the atmosphere still vibrating with the energy of the intense connection you shared. Minnie, still on her knees, wiped a drop of cum from the corner of her mouth, her expression one of deep and exhausted satisfaction.

With a loving gesture, you placed Minnie's glasses back on her face, your fingers sliding gently across her skin. "You don't know how beautiful you are now,” you whispered.

Your eyes met, sparks of desire still dancing between them. With a soft smile, you pulled her close and kissed her passionately. Your lips met in a final act of surrender to the intense passion that had consumed you both, the salty taste of your cum mixing sweetly and intimately between you...

And a couple of little yellow birds on the windowsill were silent witnesses to the newly blossomed passion.

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