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dreamersworldduh · 9 days ago

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HIS AWAKENING

• NATE JACOBS x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Nate Jacobs embodies the quintessential all-American quarterback—athletic, commanding, and effortlessly attractive. Beneath the surface, however, lies a man riddled with inner conflict. His outward bravado conceals a fragile core shaped by toxic societal expectations, a broken family dynamic, and a deep struggle with his own identity. Nate's carefully constructed image masks a storm of repressed emotions, his intimidating presence serving as both armor and a warning to those who might venture too close.

That is, until Y/N entered his life. Strikingly handsome and unapologetically bold, Y/N exudes a magnetic confidence that demands attention the moment he walks into a room. His blend of charisma, sass, and fearless energy challenges everything Nate thought he knew about himself—and about the walls he's built to keep others out.

WARNING! FLUFF. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 10.8k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Sorry for the delay—this is quite a long fic that I had to break into two parts. Now, I know some people feel about the immensely complicated Nate Jacobs, however, I wanted to show a different side of him and give his gay awakening.

NEXT PART! HIS AWAKENING — PART 2

The late afternoon sun bathed the campus in a golden hue, casting long, uneven shadows across the pathways. Y/N stepped out of the administrative building, a folder clutched tightly in his hands, filled with room and board information, dormitory rules, and a map of the sprawling university grounds. His mind buzzed with anticipation and a hint of nervousness as he mentally ticked off the steps to get settled. The day had been a whirlwind of check-ins and introductions, and all he wanted now was to find his dorm, unpack, and get a moment to breathe.

Lost in his thoughts, Y/N barely noticed the bustling crowd of students around him until it was too late.

Without warning, he collided with what felt like a brick wall. The impact sent his folder slipping from his grip, papers scattering onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry—" Y/N began, crouching to gather his things, but his apology was cut short by a sharp, irritated voice.

"Maybe you should watch where you're standing," the stranger snapped, his tone clipped and unforgiving.

Y/N froze mid-reach, his gaze snapping upward to meet the source of the hostility. He was greeted by the sight of a towering figure, broad-shouldered and radiating a palpable air of arrogance. The guy was wearing a football jersey, the bold number on his chest practically screaming athlete. His jaw was set, and the way he loomed over Y/N gave off a distinctly entitled vibe.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, straightening up slowly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Didn't realize this was your sidewalk, Mr. Quarterback. Want me to bow next time you grace it with your royal cleats?"

The guy's face darkened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. His jaw tightened as he took a small step forward, towering over Y/N even more. "What's your problem, man?"

"No problem," Y/N replied smoothly, his tone calm but laced with amusement. He dusted off his papers and tucked them back into the folder before glancing back up. "Just don't appreciate being plowed into like I'm part of your warm-up drills. Or is that how you flirt?"

That comment landed like a slap, throwing the quarterback off balance. His brows furrowed, and his mouth opened slightly as if to retort, but he hesitated. Finally, he muttered, "Yeah, not interested, thanks."

Y/N smirked, unbothered, his sharp eyes scanning the guy with calculated precision. There was something about his tightly wound demeanor, the tension in his shoulders, the barely contained frustration in his voice. It was fascinating in a way that made Y/N want to push a little further.

"Relax, big guy. You're not my type either," Y/N said, his smirk widening. "Too much bottled-up rage under all those muscles. But hey, therapy exists for a reason."

The quarterback growled under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "You don't even know me," he bit out, his voice low and simmering with frustration.

Y/N shrugged, already stepping to the side as if to end the encounter. "Don't have to. You've got 'walking anger issues' written all over you." He turned back briefly to add, his tone almost lighthearted, "Oh, and next time you want to storm through a crowd, maybe pick someone who won't call you out."

The quarterback's patience snapped, his voice lowering into a growl as he took a step forward. "What makes you think I won't—?"

Y/N didn't miss a beat, spinning on his heel to face him again, his smirk sharp and dripping with confidence. "Fight me? Go ahead, QB. But fair warning—I fight dirty. And I don't lose."

For a moment, the two stood there, tension crackling between them like a live wire. The quarterback's fists remained clenched, but he didn't move. There was something flickering in his eyes—something unreadable, caught between frustration and intrigue.

Without waiting for a response, Y/N turned on his heel and walked away, his steps confident as he rejoined his waiting parents by the car.

As Y/N disappeared into the crowd, the quarterback remained rooted to the spot, watching him go. His fists slowly unclenched, but his mind raced, replaying the encounter over and over.

What Y/N didn't know, as he laughed with his parents and carried his things to the dormitory, was that the guy he had just clashed with was none other than Nate Jacobs—his soon-to-be roommate.

The dormitory hall buzzed with the energy of move-in day, a cacophony of shuffling boxes, shouted instructions, and the occasional crash of something fragile being dropped. Parents bickered over furniture placement, wide-eyed freshmen struggled to find their rooms, and the air smelled faintly of fresh paint and sweat. Y/N navigated through the chaos with a box tucked under his arm, its contents rattling with every step. His other hand gripped the edges tightly—his track gear was in there, and he wasn't about to let it spill everywhere.

When he reached the door to his room, he paused, his gaze sweeping over the space. It was compact, the two beds crammed against opposite walls, a small shared desk wedged between, and a closet barely big enough to hold his shoes, let alone his wardrobe. Functional, sure, but it was far from luxurious. Still, Y/N's mind was already buzzing with ideas for rearranging the space as he crossed the threshold and set his box down near one of the beds.

"Guess this'll have to do," he muttered to himself, surveying the drab beige walls with mild disinterest.

As he began unpacking, the sound of heavy footsteps thudding down the hallway pulled his attention. The steps grew louder, and then the door creaked open wider behind him. Y/N turned, his curiosity fading into sharp recognition when he saw who was standing there.

Nate Jacobs.

The guy from earlier—the walking brick wall in a football jersey. He stood in the doorway with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his sharp features framed by the dim light from the hallway. His hoodie hung loosely over his broad frame, but the edge of his jersey peeked out, making it impossible not to identify him as "QB." Their eyes locked, and for a moment, neither said anything.

"Oh, great," Y/N said, breaking the silence as he dropped a shirt onto his bed with an exaggerated sigh. "It's you."

Nate's brow furrowed, his face twisting in mild disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath as he stepped inside. He dropped his bag with a heavy thud onto the empty bed opposite Y/N's, rubbing the back of his neck. "Of all the people on campus..."

Y/N leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms as his lips curved into a smirk. "Didn't think the universe hated me enough to make you my roommate, but hey, here we are."

Nate shot him a look, his irritation obvious. "Trust me, I'm not thrilled either. Last thing I need is to share a room with some loudmouth track star who doesn't know when to shut up."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Loudmouth? Big talk coming from the guy who growled at me like a pissed-off grizzly bear earlier."

"You were the one running your mouth first," Nate countered, his jaw tightening as he crossed his arms.

Y/N straightened up, walking to his stack of boxes with a casual air. "Right," he said, tossing a look over his shoulder. "And you were just minding your own business, Mr. 'Maybe you should watch where you're standing.'"

Nate scoffed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Look, let's just get through this without killing each other, alright? I've got enough on my plate without you adding to it."

Y/N paused, one hand resting on the box he was about to open. For a moment, his smirk softened into something more contemplative. "Fine by me," he said lightly. "As long as you don't turn this place into a football locker room, we're good."

"Deal," Nate replied, though his tone carried the faintest hint of skepticism.

Satisfied, Y/N returned to his unpacking, pulling out a stack of books and arranging them on the small shelf above his desk. "You're not gonna do the whole 'alpha male' thing in here, are you?" he asked without looking up.

Nate frowned, clearly caught off guard by the question. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You know," Y/N said, waving a hand in Nate's direction without turning around. "All the posturing, random yelling, punching walls when your team loses. That sort of thing."

Nate's glare could have cut through steel. "Do I look like the kind of guy who punches walls?"

Y/N turned to face him, his gaze raking over Nate's broad frame. "Honestly? Yeah, you kinda do."

Nate opened his mouth to argue but stopped, clearly deciding it wasn't worth the effort. With a low growl, he turned back to his duffel, pulling out a stack of neatly folded shirts.

Y/N chuckled under his breath as he returned to his own unpacking. "Relax, QB," he said with a grin. "I'll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine. Fair enough?"

Nate didn't look up from his bag, but his response was low and clipped. "Fair enough."

For a while, the room was filled with the sound of zippers, rustling papers, and shuffling clothes. The tension between them hadn't disappeared, but it had simmered down enough for them to coexist—for now.

As Y/N placed a framed photo on his desk, he threw a sly glance in Nate's direction. "By the way," he added, his tone casual but teasing, "you should work on your comebacks. 'Loudmouth track star' isn't exactly cutting it."

Nate's jaw tightened again, his hands pausing mid-fold. But this time, he didn't rise to the bait.

"Welcome to the dorm, Nate," Y/N said with a grin, leaning back against his desk. "This is gonna be... fun."

Nate didn't respond, but as he turned back to his bag, the faintest twitch of a smirk crossed his lips—though it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

The sun hung high in the sky, its relentless heat radiating off the manicured grass of the university's sports complex. Sweat clung to the air, sticking to every athlete who dared brave the afternoon heat. The track team had just wrapped up their grueling practice session, their laughter and chatter filling the space near the bleachers.

Y/N stood in the center of his group, casually stretching out his legs. His running shorts were impossibly short, exposing the full expanse of his toned thighs, every muscle seemingly sculpted to perfection. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, catching the sunlight as he leaned into a stretch, completely unbothered by the attention his appearance drew. Y/N was always confident, effortlessly commanding the room—or in this case, the field—without even trying.

Not far away, the football team was mid-drill, their coach barking orders as they ran through their routines. The rhythmic thuds of cleats on turf filled the air, accompanied by the occasional grunt of effort. During a water break, Jake and Ryan, two of Nate's teammates, wandered toward the sideline, their eyes drifting to the scene by the bleachers.

Jake nudged Ryan, nodding toward Y/N. "Man, look at those shorts," he said with a snicker. "I swear, are those even legal? Dude's got more leg on display than half the cheer squad."

Ryan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Right? He's just out here showing off. Like, we get it—you've got legs. Congrats or whatever."

Standing a few feet away, Nate overheard the exchange. He rolled his eyes, tossing a football absently into the air and catching it. Normally, he tuned out their locker-room banter, but today, for some reason, he couldn't resist chiming in.

"Maybe he thinks the shorts make him faster," Nate said, his tone deadpan as he spun the football in his hand. "Aerodynamics or something."

Jake laughed, emboldened by Nate's comment. "Yeah, or he just likes the attention. Look at him. Bet he spends more time flexing in the mirror than running on the track."

Unbeknownst to the trio, Y/N's sharp ears had picked up every word of their conversation. His smirk widened as he straightened up, casually brushing a hand over his shorts as he turned to face them.

"Aw," Y/N called out, his voice sweetly mocking as he strode toward them with deliberate ease. "I didn't realize the football team was so interested in my thighs. Should I start charging for the view, or are compliments enough?"

Jake and Ryan froze mid-laugh, their faces flushing with embarrassment. They exchanged panicked glances, unsure how to respond.

Jake stammered first, trying to recover. "W-We weren't—"

"Oh no, please," Y/N interrupted, holding up a hand as he stepped closer, his smirk wicked. "Don't stop. It's flattering, really. I had no idea my legs were such a hot topic. Maybe next time, though, you could focus on your drills instead of gossiping like high school mean girls."

Ryan muttered defensively, "We weren't gossiping—"

"Sure you weren't," Y/N cut in smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "By the way, if you're gonna talk about someone, maybe be a little less obvious. Your whispers are about as subtle as a marching band."

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He looked like a fish gasping for air, which only made Y/N's smirk grow.

Finally, Y/N's attention shifted to Nate, who was still standing there, the football frozen in his hand. "And you," Y/N said, his tone growing sharper as he cocked his head. "I'm surprised, QB. You had a whole two cents to throw in, but it's funny—I don't remember asking for your opinion."

Nate blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He wasn't used to being directly challenged, especially not by someone like Y/N. His faint smirk faded into a defensive glare. "I didn't say anything worse than what they said."

Y/N tilted his head, pretending to consider this. "True. But unlike them, I thought you had a spine. Guess I was wrong."

Behind Y/N, the track team, who had been watching the interaction unfold with barely contained glee, erupted into muffled laughter. Jake and Ryan didn't dare respond, their embarrassment palpable.

Satisfied with their stunned silence, Y/N tossed one last smirk over his shoulder as he sauntered back toward his team. "Don't worry, boys," he called out breezily. "Not everyone can pull off confidence and shorts. Better luck next time."

Jake muttered under his breath, "Dude's savage."

Nate didn't respond, though his grip on the football tightened. His gaze lingered on Y/N as he rejoined his group, laughing easily with his teammates as if nothing had happened.

Something about Y/N got under Nate's skin, and it wasn't just the sass. It was the sharp wit, the unapologetic confidence, and the way Y/N had absolutely no fear of putting him in his place. It irritated Nate—but it also intrigued him, in a way he couldn't quite shake.

"Jacobs!" the coach yelled, jolting Nate from his thoughts. "Back on the field!"

Nate turned sharply, tossing the football to a teammate with more force than necessary. But as he jogged back to join the drills, his mind stayed stubbornly stuck on Y/N, replaying the encounter over and over.

The silence between Y/N and Nate had become suffocating, stretching across days with no sign of breaking. The tension hung heavy in their shared dorm room, in the classrooms, even on the fields where they practiced their respective sports. Y/N had made it abundantly clear—he wasn't interested in speaking to Nate, or even acknowledging his existence.

For Nate, the lack of interaction was an unfamiliar and deeply unsettling feeling. He wasn't used to being ignored, especially not like this. It gnawed at him in ways he couldn't fully explain, like a splinter lodged too deep to reach but impossible to forget.

It started off as the first rays of dawn spilled into the room, bathing it in a warm orange glow. Nate lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying their last conversation on the field. Y/N, as usual, was up early, moving quietly around the room as he pulled on a fitted t-shirt over his toned frame. His movements were precise, methodical, and entirely devoid of unnecessary noise—a courtesy Nate was beginning to resent.

As Y/N grabbed his backpack and water bottle from the desk, he glanced briefly at his phone, scrolling through notifications. He didn't so much as glance in Nate's direction.

"Morning," Nate offered, his voice low and tentative, breaking the stillness.

Y/N didn't respond. The only sound that followed was the click of the door as it shut behind him.

Nate sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. It was going to be another long day.

By the time class started, the lecture hall buzzed with muted chatter as students trickled in, taking their seats and pulling out notebooks or laptops. Nate entered behind Jake and Ryan, scanning the rows instinctively until his eyes landed on Y/N. He was seated a few rows ahead, angled slightly toward a classmate he was chatting with.

Without realizing it, Nate chose a seat a few rows back, perfectly positioned for an unobstructed view.

Y/N sat with one leg crossed over the other, his notebook balanced on his knee as he scribbled notes in the margins. Every now and then, he leaned toward the person next to him, whispering something that earned a quiet laugh. Nate couldn't hear the words, but he didn't need to. The easy smile on Y/N's face, the relaxed way he carried himself—it was a stark contrast to the cold shoulder he'd been giving Nate.

Nate's eyes lingered. The way Y/N tapped his pen against the desk, the slight furrow of his brow when he focused, the unconscious habit of brushing his fingers through his hair when he stretched—it was all maddeningly distracting.

"You okay, man?" Jake asked, nudging Nate's elbow.

"Yeah," Nate muttered, tearing his gaze away and forcing himself to focus on the professor's droning voice. But even as he tried to take notes, his eyes kept drifting back to Y/N.

As the heat of the afternoon sun bore down on the sports complex, baking the grass and filling the air with the faint scent of sweat and turf. Nate was supposed to be focused on running passing drills, but his attention kept slipping to the track just beyond the field.

Y/N was sprinting, his powerful strides eating up the distance effortlessly. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, and the way he slowed to a stop after his lap left Nate momentarily frozen.

"Jacobs!" the coach's voice barked, snapping Nate out of his thoughts.

"Focus!"

"Yeah, sorry, Coach," Nate muttered, catching the football mid-air and throwing it with a little more force than necessary.

As he jogged back into position, his eyes darted toward the track again. Y/N was standing by his team, his chest heaving as he took a long swig from his water bottle. One of his teammates said something that made him laugh—a loud, easy sound that made Nate's chest tighten.

It was infuriating how completely oblivious Y/N seemed to his presence.

By the two made into the dorm, it was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken words. Y/N entered first, tossing his bag onto his bed without so much as a glance in Nate's direction. Nate followed, shutting the door behind him with a little more force than necessary.

For a while, the only sound was the faint rustling of Y/N unpacking his gear. Nate leaned against the door, his eyes fixed on him. The silence was unbearable.

"Are you ever gonna talk to me again?" Nate asked finally, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife.

Y/N didn't even pause. "Didn't think there was anything left to say."

Nate's jaw tightened. "You're really this pissed about what I said on the field?"

Y/N snapped his head up, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Pissed? No, Nate. I'm disappointed. I thought you were at least capable of being decent, but clearly, I overestimated you."

Nate frowned, stepping closer. "I was joking!"

Y/N shook his head, his voice calm but biting. "Oh, I got the joke. It's just not funny coming from someone who doesn't know the first thing about respect."

Nate opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. Y/N had already turned away, pulling a fresh shirt from his drawer and pointedly ignoring him.

A knock on the door broke the tension. Y/N walked past Nate to open it, revealing one of their neighbors leaning casually against the frame.

"Hey, you two coming to the frat party tonight?" the guy asked.

Y/N glanced over his shoulder at Nate, his tone dismissive. "I'll be there," he said. "Can't say about him."

Nate bristled. "I'm coming too," he said firmly, stepping forward.

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn't respond. Instead, he turned back to the neighbor with a small smirk. "Guess we'll see you there."

The door closed, leaving them alone again. Y/N grabbed his things and left without another word, the silence in the room now suffocating. Nate stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, wrestling with his frustration—and something far more complicated that he couldn't quite name.

The bass reverberated through the cramped frat house, shaking the walls and drowning out any chance of meaningful conversation. The air was thick with the mingling scents of cheap beer, sweat, and an overzealous amount of cologne. Multicolored lights pulsed in time with the music, casting flickering shadows over the packed rooms. People were crammed into every corner, laughing, drinking, and dancing, their movements chaotic but full of life.

In the middle of it all, Y/N commanded the makeshift dance floor in the living room. He wore a cropped black graphic tee emblazoned with a bold design, the hem cutting off just enough to reveal his toned stomach. His low-waist black jeans hugged his hips perfectly, emphasizing his every movement. The outfit, combined with his easy confidence, made it impossible not to watch him.

Y/N moved like the music was a part of him, his arms swaying above his head, his hips rolling effortlessly in time with the beat. His friends surrounded him, hyping him up with loud cheers and playful shouts as he spun and struck teasing poses. A playful grin danced on his lips as he leaned into the energy, the kind of carefree charisma that lit up the entire room.

Across the space, Nate stood with a group of his football teammates near the beer pong table. A red Solo cup dangled from his hand, barely touched, as his gaze kept drifting toward the dance floor. Specifically, toward Y/N.

"What's got you so distracted, man?" Jake nudged Nate's arm, his voice cutting through the din.

"Nothing," Nate muttered, his tone clipped, though his eyes remained locked on Y/N.

Jake smirked but didn't press.

The situation shifted suddenly when a tall guy with dyed hair and a silver chain stepped confidently into Y/N's circle. The stranger's movements were smooth, his intentions clear as he joined Y/N in the rhythm of the music. He leaned closer, his hand brushing Y/N's hip as their steps aligned.

Nate's grip on his cup tightened, the cheap plastic creaking under the pressure.

Jake, noticing, glanced toward the dance floor. "Looks like your roommate's got himself an admirer," he said with a teasing grin.

Nate didn't respond, but his jaw clenched as he watched the stranger say something to Y/N, earning a laugh. Y/N threw his head back, his carefree laugh cutting through the music as he spun into the guy's arms. Their faces were close now—too close.

An unfamiliar irritation churned in Nate's chest, sharp and insistent. It wasn't jealousy. It couldn't be. He didn't even like Y/N like that. So why did seeing him with someone else feel like a punch to the gut?

"You good, man?" Jake asked again, his tone more curious now.

"I'm fine," Nate said shortly, his voice harsh as he tore his gaze away. He tipped his cup back and took a long swig, trying to focus on anything else.

But his resolve faltered almost immediately. His eyes found their way back to the dance floor, where Y/N now had his hands in the air, his body leaning into the guy's. Their movements were perfectly synced, like they'd been dancing together for years. The crowd around them seemed to blur, leaving only the two of them in Nate's focus.

"What's your problem with him, anyway?" Ryan chimed in, noticing Nate's growing tension. "You've been weird about Y/N since day one."

"I don't have a problem," Nate snapped, the words coming out sharper than intended.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Right. And the way you're glaring at that guy right now is totally normal."

Nate scowled, his knuckles whitening around his cup. "I'm not glaring."

"Sure," Ryan said with a smirk. "Whatever you say, QB."

Nate ignored them, his attention snapping back to Y/N just as he threw his arms around the stranger's neck, laughing again. The easy intimacy of it—the way Y/N could just be himself, confident and unbothered—grated on Nate's nerves.

It wasn't just the dance. It was the way someone else was getting Y/N's attention, his laughter, his energy. It was the way Nate couldn't seem to draw that out of him anymore, no matter how hard he tried.

Before he could stop himself, Nate muttered under his breath, "What's so great about that guy, anyway?"

Jake burst out laughing. "Oh, this is gold. Jacobs is jealous."

"Shut up," Nate growled, shoving Jake lightly, though his flushed face betrayed him.

Jake kept laughing, but Nate didn't care. His focus was entirely on Y/N, who seemed to sense Nate's eyes on him. Y/N glanced up, his gaze locking with Nate's for the briefest moment.

Y/N's expression was unreadable, but the smirk that tugged at his lips wasn't. It was sly, teasing, and far too knowing, as if Y/N could see right through him.

Nate's stomach twisted.

Y/N turned back to his dance partner, but not before throwing Nate a look that seemed to say, I see you watching.

Scowling, Nate tipped his cup back again, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He tried for the rest of the night to focus on his teammates, on the beer pong game, on anything other than Y/N. But no matter what he did, his thoughts kept circling back to him.

And that damn smirk.

Soon the party had shifted into its final stages, the once-deafening music now muted, replaced by the hum of lingering conversations and occasional bursts of laughter. The crowd had thinned, but pockets of energy still buzzed throughout the house. In the corner near the door, Y/N leaned heavily against the wall, his cheeks flushed, his eyes slightly glassy from one too many drinks. Despite his clear intoxication, he retained that magnetic, carefree air, laughing easily at something the guy next to him said.

The guy—a tall, confident-looking student with a cocky smirk—leaned in close, his lips brushing against Y/N's ear as he whispered something that made Y/N giggle. Y/N swayed slightly, his balance unsteady, and the guy placed an arm around his waist, guiding him with ease. Y/N leaned into the touch, his body language loose and trusting as the guy began steering him toward the front door.

From a few feet away, Nate watched the scene unfold, his grip tightening on the edge of his Solo cup. For the past ten minutes, he had been quietly observing, his irritation building with every second. Jake and Ryan stood nearby, but their banter barely registered as Nate's attention remained fixed on Y/N.

When he saw the guy's arm slide more firmly around Y/N's waist, something inside Nate snapped.

"Where are you going?" Nate's voice cut through the air as he stepped forward, his tone sharp and commanding.

Both Y/N and the guy turned to face him, the sudden interruption catching them off guard. Y/N blinked, momentarily confused, before a lazy smirk spread across his face. "Hey, QB. Didn't know you cared," he drawled, his words slurred just enough to betray how drunk he was. He leaned more heavily against the guy, his body swaying slightly.

Nate ignored Y/N's teasing and turned his full attention to the other guy, his piercing gaze hard and unwavering. "You can leave," Nate said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "He's not going anywhere with you."

The guy frowned, holding up his hands defensively. "What's your problem, man? We're just leaving. It's not a big deal."

"It is if he's drunk," Nate snapped back, stepping closer. His voice was low and edged with a quiet intensity that made the guy falter. "Find someone else to bother."

Y/N chuckled, clearly amused by the exchange. "Relax, Nate," he said, his voice thick with amusement and alcohol. "I can handle myself. Not my first rodeo."

"You're wasted," Nate retorted, his eyes narrowing as he reached out and gently but firmly pulled Y/N away from the guy's hold. His hand rested on Y/N's arm, steadying him as Y/N stumbled slightly. "You don't even know this dude."

Y/N looked up at Nate, his expression shifting to one of annoyance and mild curiosity. "Wow," he said, his tone biting. "Since when are you my babysitter?"

"I'm not," Nate shot back through gritted teeth. "But I'm also not letting you do something stupid."

The guy, clearly irritated now, stepped forward. "Look, man, it's none of your business—"

"It is now," Nate interrupted, his voice dangerously low. His glare alone was enough to make the guy hesitate. "Go."

The guy looked between Nate and Y/N, his frustration evident, before scoffing and throwing up his hands. "Whatever, dude. Your problem now." He turned on his heel and disappeared back into the thinning crowd.

Y/N pulled his arm free from Nate's grip, his movements unsteady but deliberate as he glared at him. "Seriously, what is your deal?" he demanded. "I was having fun."

"You call that fun?" Nate shot back, crossing his arms. "Getting blackout drunk and going home with some random guy?"

Y/N smirked, but it was weaker now, less sure. "Jealous, QB?" he teased, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Nate's jaw tightened, his gaze darting away for a moment as he struggled to find the right words. "No," he said finally, though even to himself, it sounded unconvincing. "I just don't want to deal with you getting into trouble and me having to explain it to the RA."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning closer as his smirk returned, sharper this time. "Right. Totally about the RA," he said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity, "and not because you can't stand seeing me with someone else."

Nate's eyes snapped back to Y/N's, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of them said anything, the silence stretching between them thick with tension.

"You're drunk," Nate said finally, his voice softer now, almost reluctant. "Let's just get you back to the dorm."

Y/N sighed heavily, leaning back against the wall. "Fine, QB," he muttered. "But only because these shoes are killing me."

Nate rolled his eyes but stepped closer, steadying Y/N with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Come on."

As they made their way out of the frat house, Y/N mumbled something incoherent about his shoes and the terrible music, his head lolling slightly against Nate's shoulder. Nate kept his grip steady, his chest tightening in a way he couldn't quite explain.

It wasn't about the RA. He knew that much.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop pretending otherwise.

The dormitory door slammed open with a loud bang, the sound echoing down the quiet hallway as Nate strode inside, his steps purposeful and heavy. Draped over his broad shoulder like an unruly sack of potatoes was Y/N, who groaned loudly, his legs kicking weakly in protest. Despite his best efforts to wriggle free, Nate held him firmly, his strength making any escape attempts laughable.

Y/N had made a valiant, if poorly coordinated, attempt to run away halfway back to the dorm, weaving unsteadily down the sidewalk in a way that had Nate's patience snapping. Without a word, Nate had hoisted him up with an ease that left no room for negotiation.

"Put me down, Nate!" Y/N shouted, his voice muffled against Nate's back as he bounced slightly with each determined step. "I don't need your help!"

"You're drunk," Nate replied flatly, his tone devoid of amusement as he kicked the dorm room door shut behind them with a sharp thud. "And you almost ran into traffic, so yeah, you kinda do."

Y/N let out an exaggerated groan, his fists weakly thudding against Nate's back in a half-hearted attempt to protest. "I hate you," he grumbled, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol still coursing through his system.

"Sure you do," Nate replied dryly, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he moved across the room. Despite his curt tone, he lowered Y/N onto his bed with far more care than he wanted to admit, making sure the other boy landed softly.

Y/N sat up almost immediately, swaying slightly as he jabbed a wobbly finger in Nate's direction. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and defiance, though his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes robbed it of any real weight. "I don't need your hero complex right now, okay? I can take care of myself."

Nate crossed his arms, his broad frame looming over Y/N as he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Really? You couldn't even walk in a straight line five minutes ago."

Y/N scowled, his hands fumbling with the hem of his crop top as he attempted to smooth it out and reclaim some semblance of dignity. "Doesn't mean I needed you to carry me like I'm some damsel in distress," he shot back, his voice petulant. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" Nate repeated, his tone heavy with disbelief. He stepped closer, leaning down until they were at eye level. His piercing gaze locked onto Y/N's, refusing to let him look away. "You're a sweaty, drunk mess who tried to ditch me in the middle of the street. That's not fine, Y/N."

Y/N opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. The closeness between them was almost suffocating, the intensity in Nate's expression enough to leave him momentarily speechless.

"Exactly," Nate said after a beat, his voice softer but no less firm. "Now sit still and stop trying to act like you've got this handled."

Y/N opened his mouth, ready to fire back with another slurred but defiant retort, but before he could get a word out, Nate moved. In one swift motion, he reached forward and tugged Y/N's crop top over his head, leaving the smaller boy momentarily stunned.

"Hey!" Y/N squawked, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to grab the shirt back. His movements were clumsy and ineffective, his balance still shaky from the alcohol. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting you out of this," Nate replied matter-of-factly, his tone steady and unbothered. He held the damp, sweat-soaked crop top between two fingers as if it were offensive before tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor. "You're gonna feel like crap in the morning if you stay in it."

For a moment, Y/N could only blink at him, his brain scrambling to process what had just happened. He crossed his arms over his now-bare chest, his cheeks flushing a deep pink—not entirely from the alcohol. "You could've asked, you know," he muttered, his tone more flustered than annoyed.

Nate smirked faintly, crossing the room to rummage through Y/N's drawer. "Yeah, because you totally would've cooperated," he shot back, pulling out an oversized t-shirt that looked soft and well-worn.

Y/N glared at him, the heat in his cheeks only intensifying as Nate approached with the clean shirt. "I could've done it myself," he muttered, but the bite in his tone was weak.

"Sure you could've," Nate replied dryly, kneeling slightly to pull the shirt over Y/N's head with surprising gentleness. His hands brushed against Y/N's skin as he adjusted the hem, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected shiver down Y/N's spine.

Y/N froze for a split second, his heart racing inexplicably as Nate leaned back to survey his work.

"There," Nate said, straightening up. His tone was softer now, almost satisfied. "Better."

Y/N shifted on the bed, his arms dropping to his sides as he glanced down at the oversized tee now hanging loosely on his frame. He tried to ignore the way his pulse was pounding, instead narrowing his eyes at Nate in an attempt to regain some semblance of control.

"Great," he muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms again. "You've played dress-up. Now leave me alone."

But the way his voice wavered slightly at the end betrayed him, and Nate's smirk deepened just enough for Y/N to notice.

Nate ignored Y/N's protests, dropping to a crouch at the foot of the bed and reaching for his shoes. The laces were tangled, no doubt from Y/N's stumbling attempts to leave the party earlier. Nate tugged at the knots, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, his expression calm despite the grumbled complaints coming from above.

"Seriously?" Y/N said, his tone a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He tried to sit up straighter, wobbling slightly as he propped himself up on his elbows. "I can handle that."

"Uh-huh," Nate replied without looking up, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he slipped off one shoe, followed quickly by the other.

Y/N scowled, his brows knitting together. "I'm not completely useless, you know," he muttered.

Nate finally glanced up, his piercing eyes locking on Y/N's. "Right. Because you've been handling everything so well tonight," he quipped, his tone dry. Then, as if it were the most casual thing in the world, he added, "Do you wanna try taking your pants off yourself, or are you gonna make me do that too?"

Y/N's face turned a deep scarlet, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "Excuse me?" he sputtered, his voice pitching higher than usual.

"Relax," Nate said, rolling his eyes as he reached for Y/N's legs, pulling him closer to the edge of the bed with little effort. "It's not like that."

Y/N froze, momentarily too stunned to respond as Nate's hands moved to the waistband of his jeans. With a flick of his fingers, Nate unbuttoned them, the sound of the zipper loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Nate worked with practiced efficiency, sliding the jeans down Y/N's legs and tossing them aside in one smooth motion. Left in nothing but his snug boxer briefs, Y/N instinctively crossed his legs, his flushed cheeks now impossibly red.

"Happy now?" Y/N muttered, avoiding Nate's gaze as he tugged at the hem of the oversized shirt Nate had put on him earlier.

Nate didn't respond immediately. He stood, his full height towering over Y/N, and for a moment, his gaze lingered. It wasn't just exasperation anymore—there was something softer in his expression, something unspoken that made Y/N's heart stutter in his chest.

"There," Nate said finally, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. "You're good."

Y/N looked up at him, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tried to ignore the heat rising in his face. "You're really annoying, you know that?" he mumbled, though there was no real malice in his tone.

Nate smirked, taking a small step closer. The corner of his mouth quirked up in that infuriatingly confident way, but his voice carried a hint of warmth. "Yeah," he said, his tone low, "but you'll thank me in the morning."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, meeting Nate's gaze for the first time. "Doubt it," he shot back, his voice softer than he intended.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful tension from earlier dissolved into something heavier, more charged. Nate didn't move, and neither did Y/N, their eyes locked in a silent exchange that seemed to stretch on forever.

The sound of Nate's steady breathing filled the small space between them, his presence overwhelming. Y/N could feel the heat radiating from him, his own pulse racing as he fought to keep his expression neutral.

Nate leaned forward slightly, his smirk softening into something more tentative, more vulnerable. Y/N held his breath, his gaze flickering to Nate's lips before quickly snapping back to his eyes.

But then Nate straightened, stepping back with a barely audible sigh. "Get some sleep," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant.

Y/N didn't respond, his heart still pounding as he watched Nate retreat to his side of the room. The unspoken tension hung in the air long after the moment passed, leaving Y/N staring at the ceiling and wondering why he couldn't shake the way Nate had looked at him.

The dormitory bathroom was dimly lit, its harsh fluorescent lights buzzing faintly in the stillness. The quiet was broken only by the sound of Y/N brushing his teeth, the rhythmic scrape of bristles against enamel filling the otherwise empty space. He leaned lazily against the sink, still groggy from the remnants of sleep and the unsettling memory of a strange, vivid dream he couldn't quite shake.

After rinsing his mouth, he splashed cold water on his face, hoping to clear the lingering haze in his mind. Grabbing a towel, he dabbed at his skin, his thoughts elsewhere. When he turned to leave, he froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat.

Nate stood in the doorway, his broad figure filling the frame, one shoulder casually propped against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, the muscles in his forearms tense, and his expression unreadable. He didn't move, blocking the exit as his piercing eyes bore into Y/N.

"Jesus, Nate," Y/N said, his voice muffled as he tossed the towel aside onto the counter. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing here?"

Nate shrugged, his eyes flicking away for a brief moment before locking back onto Y/N. "Bathroom's on the way to my room," he said casually, his voice steady but lacking its usual bite. "Didn't know I needed permission to stand here."

Y/N narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the sink. "Right. Because loitering outside the bathroom at midnight is totally normal behavior."

Nate didn't reply immediately. Instead, he studied Y/N with an intensity that made the air between them feel heavier. The silence lingered too long, his gaze dipping slightly before snapping back up.

Y/N's expression shifted, his brow furrowing as he straightened slightly. The teasing edge in his voice was gone when he spoke again. "Alright, spill. Why did you really stop me from leaving with that guy at the party?"

Nate's posture stiffened, his arms dropping slightly as he stood up straighter. His jaw worked for a moment before he finally spoke. "I already told you," he said, his voice clipped. "You were drunk. You could've done something stupid."

"Uh-huh," Y/N said slowly, tilting his head as if trying to see through Nate's words. His tone was skeptical, almost mocking. "And I'm supposed to believe it had nothing to do with... jealousy?"

Nate let out a bark of laughter, but it sounded forced, too sharp to be genuine. "Jealousy?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Trust me, I wasn't jealous. You're not that special."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at that, his lips curving into a sly smirk. "Oh, really?" he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Then why were you staring daggers at him all night?"

"I wasn't," Nate snapped, his response too quick, too defensive.

Y/N pushed off the sink, taking a step closer. The distance between them was shrinking, and with it, the tension in the room thickened. "You sure about that, QB?" Y/N asked, his voice low, teasing. "Because if I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't like the idea of me with someone else."

Nate's jaw tightened further, his fists flexing at his sides as if he were trying to keep them still. "Don't flatter yourself," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm straight, okay? You're not my type. At all."

Y/N paused, studying him closely, his smirk fading into something softer, more curious. His eyes searched Nate's face, lingering on the tight line of his mouth and the tension in his brow. "Right," Y/N said finally, his tone quieter but no less pointed. "You're straight. That's why you've been acting weird around me since day one."

Nate stepped forward, his height casting a shadow over Y/N as he closed the remaining space between them. "I'm not acting weird," he said firmly, his voice lowering. "You're the one making this into something it's not."

Y/N didn't back down, his chin tilting slightly as he met Nate's gaze head-on. For a moment, the room felt impossibly small, the charged silence pressing in on both of them.

"Okay," Y/N said finally, his voice calm but tinged with something knowing. "If that's what you need to tell yourself." He moved past Nate, his shoulder brushing against him as he stopped at the doorway. Y/N paused, glancing over his shoulder with a faint, almost teasing smile. "But just so you know, people who are totally straight don't usually get this worked up over their 'not-my-type' roommate."

Nate didn't move, his fists clenching at his sides as he watched Y/N disappear down the hall. His chest felt tight, each breath harder to take as Y/N's words echoed in his head.

I'm straight, he told himself, gripping the edge of the counter as he turned toward the mirror.

But as he stared at his own reflection, the doubt that flickered in his eyes told a different story. For the first time, Nate wasn't sure what he believed anymore.

The countertops were cluttered with stray utensils and empty mugs, evidence of late nights and hurried mornings. The air was thick with the mingling aroma of freshly brewed coffee and whatever leftovers Nate had just pulled from the fridge.

Y/N stood by the counter, the picture of effortless ease. He leaned back casually, his mug cradled in one hand as steam curled lazily upward. His other hand drummed a slow, steady rhythm against the counter's edge, as though he had all the time in the world. His eyes flicked to Nate, who was bent over, half inside the fridge, rummaging noisily.

"Move," Nate said abruptly, his tone more gruff than polite as he turned, balancing a carton of milk and an apple in one hand. His shoulder bumped Y/N's in an impatient nudge.

Y/N, unfazed, merely smirked. He didn't shift an inch. "Say 'please,'" he drawled, his voice teasing, laced with just enough challenge to be infuriating.

Nate huffed audibly, clearly not in the mood for games. He stepped closer without hesitation, closing the already minimal gap between them. His broad chest brushed against Y/N's back as he reached over the counter to grab the half-empty box of cereal perched precariously near the edge.

The contact was brief but electric. Y/N's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, a small hitch in his breath betraying him before he quickly smoothed over the moment with a practiced veneer of nonchalance. He tilted his head just slightly, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Careful, QB," Y/N said lightly, his tone deliberately playful. "Buy me dinner first."

Nate recoiled as if burned, retreating a step too quickly. "You're annoying," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and clipped. He kept his gaze fixed on the counter, avoiding Y/N's eyes entirely as he busied himself pouring cereal into a bowl with far more focus than the task required.

But the flush creeping up Nate's neck was impossible to miss. A faint pink dusted his cheeks, standing out against his otherwise stoic expression.

Y/N noticed, of course. He always noticed. A slow, self-satisfied grin spread across his face as he turned back to his coffee, taking a deliberate sip. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he pretended not to notice Nate's embarrassment.

The gym was quieter than usual, its usual cacophony of clanging weights and rhythmic grunts reduced to a distant hum. The faint smell of rubber mats and chalk lingered in the air, mingling with the sharper scent of sweat. Y/N lay stretched out on the bench press, his fingers curling around the cold metal bar, the plates on either side gleaming faintly under the fluorescent lights.

Nate's shadow loomed over him, breaking his focus. "Need a spot?" he asked, his tone casual but carrying a slight edge, the way it always did when he was talking to Y/N.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His lips quirked into a lazy smirk. "Didn't know you cared."

Nate crossed his arms, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Someone's gotta make sure you don't drop the bar on your face," he shot back, stepping closer. His hands hovered just above the bar, ready but not intrusive.

With a small huff of amusement, Y/N settled back into position and began his reps. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, muscles contracting and releasing as he powered through each press. The bar creaked faintly under the strain, but Y/N's focus didn't waver. Nate, however, wasn't as disciplined.

Despite himself, Nate's gaze kept slipping—drifting over the line of Y/N's arms, the way his biceps flexed with each upward thrust, the tautness of his shoulders under the weight. The faint sheen of sweat on Y/N's skin caught the light, highlighting the sharp lines and curves of his body. It was distracting, far more than Nate would ever admit, even to himself.

"You gonna stare all day, or are you actually spotting me?" Y/N teased, his voice breathless but carrying that familiar sharpness. He didn't even look up, but the smirk in his tone was unmistakable.

Nate jerked slightly, caught off guard. A faint flush crept up his neck, and he quickly averted his eyes, his focus snapping back to the bar. "Focus on the bar," he muttered, his voice tighter than usual.

Y/N chuckled, a low, knowing sound that Nate found both infuriating and—he'd never admit it—amusing. With a controlled motion, Y/N lowered the bar back onto the rack, the clanging sound reverberating through the gym. He sat up, rolling his shoulders and reaching for his water bottle, his grin still firmly in place.

"Whatever you say, coach," Y/N said, the words dripping with playful mockery.

Nate didn't reply right away, his jaw tightening as he busied himself adjusting a nearby weight. He could still feel the heat creeping up his face and silently cursed himself for it. Meanwhile, Y/N leaned back against the bench, casually stretching his arms overhead, his grin widening as he watched Nate's back stiffen ever so slightly. The unspoken tension between them hung in the air, heavy but electric, as Nate fought to maintain his composure.

"You done admiring me, or should I grab the dumbbells next?" Y/N quipped, breaking the silence with another laugh.

"Shut up, Y/N," Nate muttered, but his voice lacked the usual bite, and Y/N only laughed harder.

The library was nearly deserted, the silence broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of paper. Rows of bookshelves stretched out in every direction, casting long shadows across the polished wood floors. At one of the large study tables near the back, Y/N and Nate sat side by side, an unintentional arrangement born from choosing the same spot at nearly the same time. Neither had moved, both too stubborn to concede the table to the other.

Y/N was sprawled comfortably in his chair, a picture of effortless confidence. A few loose papers and an open notebook were scattered in front of him, but he wasn't exactly focused on them. Instead, he leaned forward to grab a book from the far corner of the table, the movement causing his cropped hoodie to ride up just enough to expose a strip of skin along his waist.

Nate noticed. He hadn't meant to, but his eyes flicked downward, caught for a moment too long on the sliver of skin and the faint shadow of muscle underneath. His jaw tightened as he quickly looked away, his fingers tapping out a random rhythm against the keyboard of his laptop, but it was too late.

Y/N straightened up slowly, his sharp eyes catching Nate's fleeting glance. A smirk spread across his lips, equal parts amusement and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, the motion making his shirt ride even higher.

"See something you like?" Y/N asked, his voice low and teasing, the tone carrying just enough edge to make Nate freeze.

Nate's ears turned bright red, a telltale sign he was flustered despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. "Your shirt's just... short," he mumbled, awkwardly gesturing toward it with one hand, his eyes resolutely fixed on the table now.

Y/N's smirk only deepened. He tilted his head, leaning slightly toward Nate as if to close the already narrow space between them. "Yeah? Guess that's why you can't stop staring." His tone was light, almost casual, but there was a deliberate weight behind his words that made Nate's discomfort palpable.

Nate cleared his throat, his fingers suddenly flying across his keyboard with an intensity that suggested he was trying to summon every ounce of focus he could muster. "Focus on your work," he muttered, his voice gruff. He didn't look up, but the slight jiggling of his leg under the table gave him away, a nervous tell he couldn't quite control.

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound barely louder than a whisper in the quiet library. "Whatever you say, Nate," he drawled, leaning back even farther in his chair, his arms still crossed. He watched Nate out of the corner of his eye, clearly enjoying the way the quarterback's posture grew more rigid with every passing second.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, and Nate stepped into the room, steam trailing after him like a veil. His hair was damp, darkened by water, and clinging messily to his forehead. A towel sat low on his hips, barely secured, revealing the sharp cut of his hip bones and the lean muscle of his torso. Droplets of water traced erratic paths down his chest and abs, glinting under the soft glow of the desk lamp in the dim dorm room.

Y/N, seated at his desk with his laptop open, barely registered the movement at first. But as Nate leaned casually against the doorframe, the sudden presence was impossible to ignore. Y/N's gaze flicked up instinctively, his eyebrows shooting upward in a mixture of surprise and exasperation.

"What?" Nate asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though the smirk curling at his lips betrayed him. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning more comfortably against the doorframe, the motion emphasizing the play of muscle under his skin. "Never seen someone fresh out of the shower before?"

Y/N scoffed, forcing his attention back to his screen even as his ears burned. "Boy, please. You could... put some clothes on," he said, his voice coming out more strained than he intended.

Nate didn't miss the tension. His smirk widened, and he pushed off the doorframe with deliberate slowness, walking across the room to his side. Each step seemed to echo, purposeful, and exaggerated.

"Oh, what's the matter, Y/N?" he drawled, his tone rich with teasing. "Afraid you'll see something you like?" His voice dipped just enough to make the words hang in the air, playful but laced with challenge.

Y/N didn't look up, his fingers hovering over his keyboard as if pretending to type. His shoulders were stiff, his neck tense, and his face was turning a shade of red that Nate couldn't help but notice.

"Shut up," Y/N growled, the words coming out more flustered than threatening. His eyes stayed glued to his laptop screen, though his focus was clearly elsewhere.

Nate chuckled, the sound low and satisfied, as he finally pulled open his dresser drawer. He took his time grabbing clothes, moving as if he had all the time in the world. Every so often, he threw a glance over his shoulder, catching the way Y/N's jaw tightened, the way his hands fidgeted in his lap.

Revenge had never tasted this sweet. For all the teasing Y/N had put him through, Nate was finally getting his moment, and he was enjoying it far too much.

"I'm just saying," Nate added, his voice light and casual, "if it bothers you that much, you could always move to another room."

Y/N didn't respond. His screen was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world, though the pink flush creeping down his neck gave him away.

Nate grinned to himself as he pulled a shirt over his head, the satisfaction of his victory lingering in the air like the faint mist from his shower.

However, victories can only last so long.

The music pounded through the packed frat house, the bass vibrating through the floor and reverberating in Y/N's chest. The dim, colorful lights shifted and spun, casting the room in flashes of blue and red as bodies swayed to the rhythm. Y/N was in the center of the makeshift dance floor, moving effortlessly to the beat, his hips rolling with a confidence that was impossible to ignore.

His low-waist jeans clung perfectly to his figure, dipping low enough to reveal the faintest hint of skin between the waistband and his cropped graphic tee. The shirt, short enough to tease his toned stomach, shimmered slightly under the lights. Every movement, every turn of his body, seemed to draw eyes his way.

Across from him, a frat guy stepped closer, emboldened by Y/N's easy energy. His hands inched toward Y/N's waist, a sly grin on his face as he leaned in. Y/N let it happen, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as he played along, his movements slowing to match the guy's. The moment lingered, electrified by the heat of the crowd and the pull of the music.

But from the edge of the room, Nate stood frozen, his grip on the Solo cup in his hand tightening with every second. He hadn't touched the drink in over ten minutes, his focus entirely on the scene unfolding in front of him. His jaw was set, his chest rising and falling as he fought the growing frustration gnawing at him.

When the frat guy leaned in even closer, his hand brushing against Y/N's hip, Nate's patience snapped.

He pushed through the throng of dancers, his broad shoulders cutting a path as he moved toward Y/N. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed Y/N's wrist, his grip firm but not rough.

"Hey—what the hell?" Y/N yelped, stumbling slightly as Nate yanked him away from the dance floor.

Ignoring the frat guy's startled protests and Y/N's struggles, Nate dragged him through the crowd and up the stairs. The music faded to a dull thrum as they reached the second floor, the noise from the party below muffled behind closed doors. Nate shoved open the door to an empty room, pulling Y/N inside before slamming it shut behind them.

The sudden silence was jarring, broken only by Y/N's heavy breathing as he wrenched his arm free.

"Seriously, Nate? Again?" Y/N snapped, spinning to face him. His chest was still heaving from dancing, his hair slightly damp from the heat of the room. "What is your problem?"

Nate stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes dark and unreadable as they bore into Y/N. "What the hell were you doing with that guy?" he demanded, his voice low and strained.

Y/N scoffed, throwing his hands up. "Dancing? Flirting? Having fun? You know, normal things people do at parties?"

"That guy wasn't—" Nate started, his voice rising, but Y/N cut him off.

"Oh, don't even start," Y/N said, stepping closer and jabbing a finger at Nate's chest. His voice was sharp, each word like a dagger. "Straight people don't get to interfere in their gay roommate's love life just because they're feeling territorial. You've got no right to—"

"Shut up!" Nate barked, his voice rough and cracking at the edges.

Y/N froze for a beat, his eyes narrowing. "No. You shut up, Nate," he snapped back, his tone fierce. "I don't know what's got you so wound up, but I'm not gonna let you treat me like I'm some kind of—"

"I don't know what I'm doing, alright?" Nate interrupted, his voice suddenly softer, almost desperate. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room in agitated strides. "I don't—this isn't normal for me. I've never felt like this before."

"Felt like what?" Y/N asked, his voice losing some of its bite as he crossed his arms.

"Like this!" Nate snapped, stopping abruptly to face Y/N. His eyes were raw with emotion, his composure slipping with every word. "About a guy. About you."

The confession hung in the air like a thunderclap, the weight of it pressing down on both of them. Y/N stared at Nate, his expression softening but his guard still firmly in place.

"You're kidding," Y/N said finally, his voice quieter but still edged with disbelief. "You, Mr. I'm-Straight-As-An-Arrow, have feelings for me?"

Nate exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging as he looked away. "I don't know what this is," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "I didn't let myself think about it."

"Think about what?" Y/N pressed, his tone gentler now, the anger replaced by curiosity.

Nate's gaze snapped back to Y/N's, and for the first time, his vulnerability was laid bare. "You," he said simply. "How you make me feel. How much it pisses me off to see you with someone else. How I can't stop thinking about you, no matter how much I try."

Y/N blinked, stunned into silence as the words sunk in. For the first time, he didn't have a quick comeback.

Before he could respond, Nate crossed the room in a single step, his hands cupping Y/N's face as he leaned in.

The kiss was hesitant at first, almost unsure, but the moment their lips met, everything else fell away. Y/N's hands instinctively found the front of Nate's hoodie, gripping the fabric as he kissed back. The hesitation dissolved into something more certain, the kiss deepening as weeks of tension and unspoken feelings spilled out between them.

It was messy and unpracticed, their movements slightly clumsy but real. When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they struggled to process what had just happened.

"Wow," Y/N murmured after a beat, his voice soft but tinged with amusement. "Didn't think you had it in you, QB."

Nate let out a shaky laugh, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Yeah. Me neither."

#nate jacobs #nate jacobs x male reader #x male reader #euphoria #gay #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x male reader

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harryssyndrome · 2 months ago

Text

Kiwi baby! | h.s 🥝

Summery: Harry’s wife surprises him during Kiwi with the best news ever.

Word count: 3.2k || Masterlist 🍉🍓❤️

The gif and the ai image are both mine! Don’t you dare steal it! I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE EITHER OF THEM OR STEAL MY WORK!!!

On a kind note, I hope you enjoy reading!!! I love this one-shot sm <333 I couldn’t wait to write it the whole night ever since I got the idea. This is probably my most favorite piece of work ever. I guess I’ll make this a part of ‘Our Little World: Documentary series’. REQUEST ARE OPEN! 🌊

Posted on: November 24th, 2024. (IST)

Tag-list: @angeldavis777 @fruity-harry || TAGLIST OPEN 💌

The evening sky above the stadium was painted in deep shades of purple, and the crowd beneath it surged with energy, every soul gathered to see him perform. Harry Styles was in his element, bathed in bright lights, his smile as wide as the stage itself, his voice carrying through the open air. The music was loud, vibrant, and electric—Kiwi blasting through the speakers as Harry moved across the stage, every step laced with the confidence and excitement that only live performances could stir.

His outfit tonight was nothing short of breathtaking—a red and black Gucci harlequin-patterned suit that shimmered under the lights, accentuating his every movement. The slickness of his hair, now a little longer than usual, fell just enough to brush his forehead as he swung his body to the rhythm of the song. Fans were ecstatic, their voices harmonizing with his in perfect unity, shouting the words to Kiwi as if their very existence depended on it.

The crowd threw water at him, a playful and typical reaction to the intense heat of the show. Harry, ever the entertainer, caught one of the bottles and used it to douse them back with a mischievous grin. The energy was alive in a way only concerts could make him feel. He laughed along with his fans, feeling that familiar thrill that had kept him addicted to this life—the adoration of strangers, the pulse of the music, and the sheer joy of performing.

But amidst the buzz of lights, the sweat dripping from his skin, and the joy in the air, there was a quiet thought that kept tugging at him. YN. His wife. She wasn’t in the VIP stand like usual. He could always rely on her to be there, her smile always radiating at him from the crowd, her presence a constant comfort. But tonight, the spot where she always stood was empty. The concern he tried to shake off kept creeping into his mind, distracting him in the back of his head, even as his heart continued to race with excitement from the show.

He couldn’t help but glance over to the section where she usually sat, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face, knowing it would soothe the small, gnawing worry he felt. But the space remained empty.

His foot tapped the beat of the song beneath him, trying to focus on the crowd once more. He tossed the water bottle at the fans, his fingers brushing the cold plastic. The adrenaline kept him high, kept him in the moment, but his gaze drifted again.

Where was she?

YN had been a little quieter than usual in the past few days. He hadn’t pushed for any answers, but now he found himself wondering if something was wrong. Maybe she was feeling unwell. Maybe she just wanted to have a quiet night in. Still, the thought of not seeing her there tonight gnawed at him.

His voice still rang out with the words of the song, but his mind was divided between the stage and the empty stand. He kept looking—one eye on the crowd, the other scanning for her. And just as his next verse was coming up, he saw it.

There she was.

Right in the front row—so close to the barricade, she was almost on the stage.

His breath caught in his throat.

She wasn’t in the VIP section. No, she was right there. In the heart of the crowd. The waves of people parted like the Red Sea for her, and there she stood—holding a sign. Her figure illuminated by the stage lights, her long hair falling in waves over her shoulders, a look of pure joy and love in her eyes.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the music, the fans, the lights—all of it was distant. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of her. The sign she held was simple, but to him, it was everything.

“I’m having your baby” it read, scrawled across a bright poster board in bold, handwritten letters.

He froze. His heart nearly stopped.

She’s pregnant.

He blinked, thinking he must be imagining it, but no—she was smiling at him now, holding up the sign for him to see, her eyes locked on his. There was no mistaking it. YN—his wife—was carrying their baby.

Harry’s pulse raced as the flood of emotions hit him. His heart thudded against his chest like it wanted to burst free. The happiness, the disbelief, the excitement—it all rushed through him like a tidal wave, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet.

He had wanted this. He had dreamed of this. Of being a father. Of having a child with YN. They had talked about it before, casually, in quiet moments after dinner, while walking through the park, in bed at night. But it had never been a “right now” kind of conversation. They had agreed that when it happened, it happened. And now… it had happened.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and his throat tightened. The emotions, overwhelming and beautiful, blurred his vision, but all he could do was stand there on the stage, dumbstruck by the sight of his wife, her belly now holding the future they had always dreamed of.

In a rush of pure joy, Harry stumbled forward, intent on reaching her, to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her. But as he took a step toward her, he didn’t see the puddle of water gathering at the edge of the stage, a result of the fans tossing their bottles earlier.

And then, it happened.

His foot slipped.

There was a split second of disbelief before Harry lost his footing completely, crashing down to the stage in an ungraceful heap. The crowd gasped collectively, their moment of joy paused in shock. But Harry, ever the professional, couldn’t help but laugh at himself. His laughter echoed through the microphone as he quickly scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, still chuckling as he shook off the fall. The fans laughed along with him, the tension breaking as they cheered even louder, impressed by his quick recovery. Harry took a deep breath, regaining his balance and composure. He grabbed the microphone again, still laughing, and gave the crowd a playful wink.

“You okay, Harry?” someone from the crew called out, teasing him from the side.

“Yeah, I’m good! Just a little slippery, that’s all!” Harry replied, still grinning.

His gaze immediately returned to YN. She was still standing at the barricade, her sign still held high, her face alight with joy, her smile as radiant as the sun. It was in that moment that Harry realized he couldn’t wait any longer. The song was still playing behind him, the familiar rhythm pulsing through his body, but he couldn’t focus on the lyrics anymore. Not with the overwhelming emotions flooding his heart.

He took a step forward, slowly walking toward the edge of the stage, his eyes still locked on YN, who was holding his gaze with the same intensity. With each step, his heart pounded harder in his chest.

And before he even knew it, his knees buckled beneath him, and Harry collapsed to the stage once more, but this time, it was with pure emotion.

He covered his face with his hands, unable to contain the tears that had begun to fall freely down his cheeks. After a few moments, Harry wiped his eyes, clearing the tears away as he stood up once more. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke into the mic, his words trembling with happiness:

“My wife is having my baby!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “It’s all my business!”

The crowd erupted in pure, ecstatic noise, the roar of the fans filling the stadium as Harry remained on his knees, the overwhelming weight of the moment too much to bear. His chest was heaving, his body shaking as the reality of the news consumed him.

“Is that real?” a fan shouted.

“Yes, it’s real!” Harry replied, laughing through his tears. “I’m going to be a dad! A dad!” He repeated the words as if he needed to hear them again, the joy overwhelming every part of him.

The fans roared in approval, the noise a chaotic symphony of celebration. But Harry didn’t care about any of that now. He didn’t care about the performance or the crowd or the cameras recording every moment. All he could think about was YN.

His mind was consumed by thoughts of the future—the life they would build together, the family they would raise. He quickly stood to his feet, wiping his eyes, and glanced once more at YN.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Harry dropped the mic to the stage and sprinted toward the barricade, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Harry could feel the heat of the stage lights burning against his skin, but they didn’t matter. The noise of the crowd was deafening, but it was like a distant hum. His heart was the loudest thing he could hear, thrumming in his chest, pumping through his veins with an almost frantic rhythm. His legs carried him toward YN like they had a mind of their own. He was driven by a force he couldn’t describe, propelled by the overwhelming joy of the moment.

Fans parted for him as he made his way to the front of the stage, their cheers rising to a fever pitch as they realized what was happening. Harry didn’t hear their excitement—he only heard the steady beat of his heart, louder now than the music, than anything else in the world.

YN. His wife. The love of his life. The mother of his child.

As he approached the barricades, YN’s smile never wavered. She was grinning from ear to ear, her eyes shining with excitement, her hand placed lovingly over her flat belly. As soon as Harry reached her, he lifted her into his arms, spinning her around in a joyous embrace, laughing like a child. The crowd cheered even louder, their love for Harry and YN growing with every passing second.

She had always known that he wanted this more than anything. They both had. But now it was real. She was carrying their baby, and everything about their lives was about to change.

“YNN…” Harry’s voice caught in his throat as he reached her. He placed her back on the ground, eyes never leaving hers. She was glowing—absolutely radiant in the soft light of the stage, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as his arms reached out to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. The crowd cheered louder, but Harry only had eyes for YN, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

“I love you,” Harry whispered into her ear, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much. I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

YN pulled back slightly to look at him, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart under her fingers. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her smile wide and full of joy, matching his own. “I know. I can’t believe it either,” she whispered, voice trembling just slightly. “I wanted to tell you in the cutest way possible, but you’ve already made it the most unforgettable moment of my life.”

Harry’s breath caught again, a lump forming in his throat as he looked down at her belly, still so small but already holding the life they had created together. His hands rested gently on her sides as he crouched down slightly, his eyes never leaving her. He placed his lips softly on her stomach, his kiss a promise—a vow. The fans around them cheered again, but this time, it was just background noise to Harry.

“I’m going to be the best dad for you,” Harry muttered against her belly, his voice filled with awe. “I promise.”

YN’s fingers threaded through his hair as she smiled down at him, her heart swelling with love. “I know you will be. I’ve always known,” she whispered, her voice full of faith and affection.

“You’re going to be the best dad our baby could ever ask for.”

As Harry pulled back from the kiss, he stood to his full height and stared at YN, his hands still resting on her waist, his expression filled with wonder. His lips curled into a grin, and he couldn’t resist pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before meeting her eyes once more.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, as if the words didn’t fully make sense to him yet. But the more he said them, the more real it became. “You and me. We’re going to have a little baby.”

YN’s eyes sparkled, the tears now freely falling down her cheeks. She looked at him with a mix of love, gratitude, and joy. She reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing gently against the stubble on his jaw. “It’s happening, Harry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s happening.”

Harry smiled wider, and without thinking, he reached down, cupping her face with both hands. He kissed her then—slow, gentle, tender—a kiss that held all of his joy, his love, his gratitude, his hope for their future. This was more than a kiss; it was a promise, a symbol of everything they were about to become. Harry pulled away slowly, his forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath.

“I can’t wait,” Harry murmured, his lips still grazing hers as he spoke. “I can’t wait to hold our baby. To be there for you. For everything.”

The love in his voice was enough to make YN’s heart swell to bursting. He kissed her again, softer this time, and then looked back at the crowd.

Harry wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around again as he laughed.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

YN laughed, her fingers threading through his damp curls. “I love you too. Always.”

Harry set her down gently, his hands never leaving her as he looked into her eyes. “You’re my everything, YNN. You and this baby—you’re everything.”

Tears slid down YN’s cheeks, and she nodded, her heart full. “And you’re ours.”

Harry dropped to his knees once more, pressing his lips to her stomach in a gesture so tender it made YN’s breath catch.

“Thank you for making my life so much beautiful,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ll love this baby with everything I’ve got. And I’ll love you even more.”

YN’s hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers squeezing gently. “You already are, Harry.”

The evening continued around them, but for Harry and YN, time seemed to slow. The music had become a distant hum, the chatter of the fans a soft murmur in the background. All that mattered was each other.

As they stood at the barricades, Harry reached up to take YN’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. He leaned in once more, pressing a kiss to her lips, soft and slow, as if savoring every moment, every sensation. His heart felt full to bursting. He had everything he had ever wanted—YN, their love, and now, the promise of their baby.

He felt as if his entire life had led up to this point—this single, beautiful moment. The rush of emotions from earlier hadn’t yet subsided, but now there was a calmness in him, a peace. He smiled as he looked down at YN’s hand in his, then back into her eyes.

“I know we’ve been through so much already,” Harry said quietly, his voice full of emotion. “But I feel like the best part of our journey is just beginning.”

YN nodded, her smile soft and full of love. “I feel the same way.”

Harry squeezed her hand once more, then stepped back slightly, turning his attention back to the crowd. “I’m going to be a dad,” he said out loud, his voice full of awe and happiness. He turned to face the audience, the microphone still lying on the stage. “Everyone, this is the best moment of my life,” he said, his voice carrying the emotion of the words. “My wife, YN, is having my baby.”

The moment was surreal. The fans were still screaming, the cameras still rolling, but none of it mattered. For Harry, nothing would ever top this moment. It wasn’t just another performance or another stage—it was the night his greatest dream began to come true.

As they stood there together, the crowd began to chant, “Baby Styles! Baby Styles!”

Harry threw his head back in laughter, turning to wave at the audience. “You lot are mad!” he called out, but his face said it all—he was over the moon.

The crowd continued on cheering wildly, but Harry’s focus was on the woman in front of him. She was glowing, every inch of her radiating love and joy, and he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive.

He leaned in to kiss her once more, this time a gentle, loving kiss on her lips. He felt everything he had ever hoped for in that kiss—his future, his family, and the love of his life, all wrapped up in one perfect moment.

As the kiss ended, he pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” YN whispered back.

They stood there for a moment longer, the world around them continuing on, but nothing mattered now but each other, and the new life they were about to bring into the world. Together.

The fans’ cheers faded into the background as Harry held YN’s hand tightly, the two of them standing side by side, facing the future with all the love and hope that their hearts could hold.

Harry stood up and kissed her again, his heart still racing, his mind still in a daze, but in the best way possible. His dream of being a dad was coming true, and no matter what came next, he knew he had everything he ever needed right here, in this moment. He knew one thing for sure: their love was only just beginning

And with that, Harry Styles was no longer just a rock star on stage—he was going to be a dad, and that was the greatest role he’d ever play.

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wandaslovey · 2 months ago

Text

𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍?

➺ pastors!wife!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 3.8k

a/n: part 2 of my “when two wrongs make a right” series. it’s based around their first time meeting. fair warning my lovey’s - this part of the series may seem a little slow in the beginning. i really wanted to build a little background for both the reader and wanda. let me know what sort of things you’d like to see from these two cuties and i’ll try and incorporate them in the coming parts :)

*not proofread*

cw: mentions of an unspecified religion, religious homophobia as well as a bit of internalized homophobia, light undertones of infidelity/cheating, specified age gap (r=20, w=32), smoking cigarettes, reader being a bit of a stalker, wanda being a massive, shameless flirt and bold with a capital B.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ୨♡୧ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

it had been over a month since you moved with your parents to a small town in georgia. they said it was on account of a “fresh start” but you had a gut feeling it was really just because your mother wanted to officially separate your father from mrs. stacey—your old neighbor. your dad never came clean about his affair, but it didn’t matter because your mom wasn’t stupid. mrs. stacey and your father weren’t exactly good at keeping things secretive. whatever. you didn’t care. as far as you were concerned, neither of your parents truly cared about much, including their marriage and including you. they were obsessed with their image, wanting to be the perfect cookie cutter, church-going family. it was all about pretenses. it didn’t matter what was going on behind the mirror because the perfectly angled reflection was all people saw of them.

you had planned for things to be different for yourself once you moved here. for one thing, you didn’t want to be a “church-going girl” anymore. after all, everything that was said only made you have more questions. on top of that, you were supposedly a sinner on account of not being attracted to boys. why would you wanna be some place where people wouldn’t accept you if they knew?

your plans turned to squash when the first sunday you tried to tell your parents, it ended up being an enormous deal—your mom sobbing crying that you were trying to “sever your relationship with god.” you tried to console her for a few minutes, but the more you pushed not to go to the church service, the more upset the both of your parents became. to keep the peace and to quit hearing your mother’s nonsense, you bit the bullet and decided to go.

the whole way to the chapel, you planned in your head exactly what you would say the next time this conversation came up. you were 20 years old. you weren’t going to let your parents dictate whether you wanted to participate in religion or not.

as the three of you arrived to the church, you filed in with the rest of the congregation. you kept your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. it wasn’t until the pastor began his sermon and invited his wife onto the stand that the fake conversation going on with your parents in your head came to an abrupt stop.

holy sh— you thought to yourself.

you see her for the first time. mrs. maximoff. wanda. you’d learned her name once she’d announced it over the pulpit. she radiated an air of confidence and a surety in herself. you tried to commit every detail of her to memory. her southern accent, the way she spoke, her laugh, her hair, her eyes, her lips, her pretty figure, her well-manicured hands that you could see even from your spot down in the congregation..

from then on, you were infatuated with the pastors wife. there was something about her. something that went beyond her stunning outward appearance. you couldn’t put your finger on what it was, but you didn’t mind observing her for however long was necessary to figure it out. you had a penchant for observation after all.

•

five weeks had gone by, this sunday being the sixth time you get to obsess over wanda in person. your thoughts about the pastors wife had you feeling a little nervous, your tummy filling with butterflies as you think about her. technically, it was wrong to think of another woman this way—right? that’s what you’ve been told your whole life. and on top of that, she was married.

oh to hell with it. it’s not like anything would come of it.

as you stand in the mirror, fussing with your sunday dress, you can’t help but look over yourself once, twice, three times before you finally turn away from your own reflection. the longer you looked, the more flaws seemed to appear, so instead, you take a cigarette out of its hiding place—under the floorboards at the end of your bed—and begin your typical “smoking secretly out the window” ritual.

you needed something to help calm your nerves before you headed to church. especially because today they were doing something called a “linger longer” after the service. it was meant for people to take the opportunity to socialize and eat some finger food after being “spiritually fed.” you didn’t know what that meant, but all you cared about was getting more time to observe the beautiful mrs. maximoff. you very quickly noticed she was quite popular within the church community. she talked with everyone. she was always so spritely and positive—you wondered if it was as genuine as it seemed. not that you would know any time soon. you always left before she could make the rounds to talk to you.

you quickly put your cigarette out in the ash tray and stow it back in its hiding place before looking yourself over one more time and then heading to the church service.

•

wanda noticed you the very first sunday you sat in the pews. she never missed a new couple or family coming in to join their congregation. it was her duty as the pastors wife to get to know everyone. she didn’t mind it either. like a true extrovert, she thrived off of interacting with other people—so to say she was a tad disappointed when she noticed you duck out right after the service before she could introduce herself to you—was an understatement. she met your parents of course who seemed nice enough, but she wanted to meet the pretty girl whom she caught staring at her quite a few times.

every sunday from then on was much the same, she’d catch you staring at her off and on throughout the service. each time she couldn’t help but smirk to herself, wondering what you were thinking in that head of yours. she was instantly intrigued by your behavior and even more so intrigued by the draw she seemed to have to you. without meaning to, she started trying to draw a picture in her head of what type of woman you might be. you seemed reserved yet polite, sweet yet stubborn and bold yet sometimes bashful, especially when she caught you looking at her. you were deliciously difficult for her to figure out and that’s why this sunday, she had made up her mind she was going to pin you down at the linger longer.

•

today was the first time you listened to a sermon and wished it stretched on a little longer. mrs. maximoff was speaking, preaching about the importance of charity. you didn’t disagree with her of course, but it wasn’t so much what she was saying, it was how she said it. you quickly became partial with how she spoke. it was like her tone indicated that everything she said was factual and not up for debate. you admired that quality in her—her ability to speak so profoundly.

she wrapped up her speech and then took her place to sing in the choir for the closing song. your eyes remained on her the whole time. while you couldn’t exactly pick out her individual voice from the bunch, you were sure her singing was the best.

as people filed out of the chapel and out onto the vast lawn that surrounded the church building, you take a moment to admire your surroundings. georgia really was beautiful—very humid, but still beautiful. the lawn was littered with white folding chairs and circular tables with some pink, orange and yellow wildflowers as the center pieces. the colors contrasted beautifully against the long, overgrown green grass and the brilliant blue sky above.

you quickly made your way over to the long rectangle table with food. if there was one thing you learned from being an observant person, it’s that you looked less awkward not socializing if you had a small plate of food in your hand. it wasn’t that you were necessarily anti-social or hated interacting with others, you just didn’t like talking with people who were typically on their moral high-horses.

you exchange pleasantries with a small family who, like you, made a beeline for the food table. you don’t pay much attention to what you put on your flimsy paper plate; some sort of meat kabob, fresh fruit and boiled peanuts. you’d never had boiled peanuts before, but apparently it was one of the food staples of georgia.

turning away from the table, you scan the small groups of people and notice how a lot of them don’t even bother to take a seat at the tables. most people choose to stand in the more open part of the field and chat. you didn’t have to look through the herds of people for long before your eyes land on wanda. she had her head thrown back, laughing at something one of the ladies from the choir had said. her laughter carried through the light breeze that was currently blowing. the sound instantly became one of your favorites to hear.

god, what was wrong with you? you had never become so quickly obsessed with someone before. not even close. the closest thing you could think of was that massive crush you had on sally miller in the 9th grade. still.. that didn’t compare to this.

you begin walking through the cluster of tables, your eyes glancing from her to looking at where you’re walking and then back to her again.

the next 30 minutes was much the same. you briefly sat down at a table, but once more people came to sit with you, you quickly offered your seat up to the last member of a larger family so nobody had to be separated.

no matter where you sat, stood, or walked, your eyes never strayed far from wanda. that was until a kind, middle aged woman came over to talk with you. she was kind enough, asking questions about you and your parents. she seemed genuinely interested in your life, and for that you were happy to talk with her. you learned she had been married for 10 years and her and her husband had been trying for a baby for awhile now, but had run into so many complications. you sympathized with her, understanding that it must be very difficult for something you want so badly to be so painstaking to achieve.

it wasn’t until you exchanged farewells and she moved onto the next person to talk to, that you noticed wanda no longer stood where she was before. in fact, she wasn’t anywhere in the several crowds of people you skimmed through. did she leave? you squint your eyes, focusing in on any short blonde hair you could see in front of you from the place you stood.

“hi there.” you hear drawled out from behind you.

oh my god.

you slowly turn, your eyes falling on none other than mrs. maximoff. you quickly compose the brief surprise that passed over your face.

“mrs. maximoff.” you swallow and tuck some hair behind your ear, offering her a polite smile to mask the squinty expression you had before. had she realized you were looking for her? you hope not..

“oh please, calling me mrs. maximoff makes me feel so old! call me wanda.” she outstretches her arm to shake your hand which you take only after a moments hesitance.

“wanda,” you repeat, your smile growing as you feel her gently squeeze your hand before letting go.

“this is usually the part where you tell me your name, honey.” she smiles amusedly, already thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

“i’m… (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“lovely to finally meet you, miss (y/n).” she appraises you, looking you up and down in your cute floral patterned dress. your stomach flutters as you notice her eyes lingering on your figure.

“i met your parents a few weeks ago, but i never got the chance to say hi to you. anyway, i’m real glad we’re finally getting to talk now.” her eyes subtly scan over your features, taking in your pretty eyes, cute nose and full pouty lips. she even noticed the light spackle of freckles across your cheeks and bridge of your nose. she wondered if those freckles were there year round or just for the summer.

“yeah, i um.. i’m not usually one for socializing.” you admit, clasping your hands together in front of you. one of your fingers fiddle with the ring on your left thumb, twisting it around.

“so, (y/n), i have a confession to make.” she blurts, the implication behind her pronouncement making your more on alert. she runs her hand through her perfectly kempt hair before resting it on her hip, trying to appear more casual—though this conversation was rapidly feeling less so.

“oh?” you ask curiously.

“well, it’s just that i’ve noticed you looking at me a fair amount on sunday’s—when i’m at the microphone, singing in the choir, sitting in the pews…but then you never come and talk to me. am i so frightenin’?”

your eyes widen in surprise. you knew you weren’t exactly subtle with your spared “glances,” but was it that obvious?

“what? no, no, no, it’s not that. not that at all. it’s just—well i..” the way she asks has you stumbling over your words. you never meant to offend her. it wasn’t that she was frightening, you just had no idea what to say to her.

she makes an attempt to mask her amusement but can’t help it with your stuttered response. a smile eventually breaks across her face and she chuckles lightly at your trying to explain, finding it endearing.

“oh, i’m just messing with you, sweet thing. no need to get all tongue tied.” her smile was amused and her eyes twinkle with playfulness as she reaches out to touch your shoulder. the action was meant to be placating, but it did nothing more than make you feel more flustered.

“tell me more about yourself.” she says it more as a command than a question, changing the subject and sparing you further embarrassment. you’re grateful for the change in tone regardless of its abruptness.

you shrug, unsure where to begin exactly, but you quickly found yourself wanting to tell this woman everything about you. “well, what would you like to know?”

“what does a cute thing like you get up to?what’re some of your hobbies?” her what appeared to be shameless flirting, surprised you. you mentally kick yourself, thinking she couldn’t possibly be flirting. it was probably just a southern thing they did here…

it was against “god’s plan” to have same sex relations of any kind. that included flirting, didn’t it? and she was married to the pastor for christ’s sake.

although.. at church you did notice that the two of them never seemed to be near to each other at all.. no. you were reading into things. this was just her being polite.

“umm, well, i guess i like to read? mostly fantasy. i’m kind of a closet nerd. i like doing things that are creative, so i’ve been teaching myself to paint and i also make string bracelets or anklets sometimes.. you know, it terms of creative things, um..” you trail off, your hand rubbing the back of your head as you draw a blank. why couldn’t you remember your own hobbies? you weren’t normally so easily flustered or stuttering over your words, but wanda’s confidence and boldness brought out a bashfulness in you that you didn’t even know existed.

she listens intently to your response, nodding encouragingly and she remains silent in your pause to find your words. she wanted to know you better and she could be as patient as was necessary.

“i also like to write.. poetry mostly. i don’t often sit down to do it, but i always enjoy when i do. um, i also love going on walks, listening to music… oh! i love rollercoasters. rollercoasters are probably one of my favorites things.” the longer you talked about what you enjoyed, the looser, less nervous you felt. wanda could see your soft shyness dissipating the more you shared. you light up in a way when you speak, your passion for your interests shining through with your facial expressions and hand movements.

“oh my—rollercoasters? you’re just a little adrenaline junkie, aren’t you?” she teases with a warm smile, her nose scrunching in the most adorable way.

“i wouldn’t go that far, but i do enjoy a good thrill,” you keep your tone light-hearted, mirroring her tone and her smile. her gentle teasing and close attention to you was beginning to make you feel light headed with giddiness.

“what about you, wanda? what do you like to do?” you take a step closer to her, your arm reaching across your chest to grab the other as you continue to feel at ease in her presence.

“anything, really. i like to change things up, keep life interesting. if there’s something new i want to partake in, i seldom hold back from trying it out.” her eyes shine with something you can’t quite put your finger on. you couldn’t help but feel there might be a double meaning to her words, but you could also just be reading into things again. hard to know for sure as you notice her eyes flick up and down your body for the second time since this conversation started.

the two of you continue talking for what only felt like minutes. you barely notice the other people around beginning to clean up food, tables and chairs. it wasn’t until most things had been cleared away that you realize just how long you’ve been standing here talking—nearly a half hour.

“well, i guess i should be letting you get back to the rest of your day,” she sighs, her shoulder raising and lowering with the action. you frown slightly, not wanting your time with her to come to an end. wanda notices of course because just like you were with her, she was paying an awful lot of attention to you.

“yeah.. yeah i guess so.” you nod in agreement, but feel anything but a desire to part from her in this moment.

“hey,” her hand reaches up and gently squeezes your shoulder, her hand lingering there. you feel your heart begin to beat faster, a warmth spreading in your chest.

“can you sing?” she asks randomly. you clear your throat, the sudden question taking you off guard.

“umm.. i’m sorry?” you ask stupidly.

“sing - can you sing?” she reiterates.

“well.. yeah a little, but w-“ she cuts you off.

“perfect! it’s settled then. you’ll join our choir!” her voice is cheery sounding, but the suggestion she made to join didn’t leave much room for discussion.

“i will?” you look at her in slight disbelief, though a smile was also tugging at the corner of your lips.

“mhmm, i don’t see why not. you want to spend more time with me, don’t you?” her boldness was astonishing. you couldn’t decide if you found it endearing, intimidating or sexy.. possibly a combo of the three. she had to be flirting. you finally decided.

“if i say yes, then..?” you trail off, neither confirming nor denying her claim.

“if you say yes then you’ll be nothin’ but honest, and you wanna be honest with me, don’t you (y/n)?” she raises her brows inquisitively, the hand that was still lingering at your upper arm squeezing again.

“that’s very bold of you to assume.” you challenge, your normal wit finally coming out to play. you couldn’t help it. her insistence on being so unabashed and teasing was rubbing off on you.

“well i have eyes, don’t i? believe it or not, i put ‘em to good use.” she drops her hand from your arm and crosses her arms over her chest.

“i noticed.” you purse your lips, your eyes dancing with playfulness as you hint at the fact you’ve caught her looking you up and down a couple times.

she smiles wide at your matching her energy, but she couldn’t help but want the upper hand back, no matter how much she was enjoying this new side of yourself.

“i won’t apologize for gawking at a pretty, young thing like you.” she smiles triumphantly when she notices your dignified posture slump slightly, the most delicate blush coloring your cheeks.

“you don’t have to apologize,” you say quietly, your words surprising you as you say them aloud instead of just in your mind. you look down and off to the side, wanting to hide the heat spreading across your cheeks.

“well we should both get goin’, but choir practice is every tuesday and thursday at 7pm. i wanna see you there, (y/n).” she reaches up presses her palm against your cheek so you’re looking at her again. she locks eyes with you with an edge of what appears to be sternness.

you nod slowly, captivating in her stare. she smiles, pleased and then drops her hand from your face.

“great, i’ll see you then, sweetheart.” she taps your nose affectionately, before turning on her heel and walking away. you watch her figure retreat to the parking lot, your head spinning a bit as your interaction played through your head.

•

as you arrive home late that afternoon, you can’t fight the smile that kept spreading across your face or the butterflies that never seemed to stop fluttering around in your stomach.

when you lay in bed at night to go to sleep, your conversation with wanda kept going through your head. you wondered what it all meant. she had to be flirting—but it was that very fact that had you confused. didn’t she herself subscribe to the belief that being gay was a sin? did she feel it was as wrong as the people in the church say it is? what would her husband think? what would he do if he found out about your conversation today?

the more you thought about it, the more unsettled you felt. before you could truly start to spiral though, you remember wanda’s smile and her contagious laughter. you think to yourself how good it felt to be with her, how warm you felt inside and how at ease she made you feel after a short while.

how could something something so bad, feel so good?

#when two wrongs make a right: series #w2wmar #southern wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you

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chlorinecake · 1 year ago

Note

Can you wright a Ni-ki fanfic where him and reader have a (just a regular) (or or maybe even slightly heated) make out sesh ???

“kissing, I hope they caught us” ┈ ❊ ﹒ 🌪️

⟢ pairing 西村力 x fem!reader ⟢ contains shy and flirty kissing, wandering hands, mentions of body image ⟢ 𝟔𝟗𝟖 words 📍 now playing … 🕸️

One day, you decided to go clothes shopping with your boyfriend Riki, trying on a few pieces for him in the mall dressing room to make sure you were on the right track. It’s not like you needed any new clothes… you simply just wanted your wardrobe to match more of what Riki wore.

“Turn around,” you told your boyfriend in a demanding yet sing-singy voice, cautiously taking off your shirt as you observed the way he buried his face in his delicate palms, “and no peeking!”

When you finally gave him the cue to uncover his eyes, he looked you up and down with a smile ghosting over his plush lips.

“What do you think?” You asked, striking a few basic poses.

He couldn’t help but blush a little at how cute you looked while checking yourself out in the mirror. You and Riki had came a long way with each other when it came to self confidence, and it delighted him to see how comfortable you’d grown with yourself in front of him.

“Can you come a little closer,” he said, motioning with his fingers as you followed like a trained kitten.

“Okay, now give me a spin…” he directed, and you did, nearly falling over as you did so, “like this?” you asked shyly.

“No, the other way, silly,” he giggled, hooking his finger into the belt hook of your jeans and pulling you into his lap, bracing you with a protective hand as you plopped onto him.

“Like this,” he smirked, gripping your waist as he looked into your eyes through feathery lashes, thoroughly enthralled by you.

Your hands almost naturally found themselves at his shoulders, your socked-feet dangling off the dressing room couch as you clung to each other like puzzle pieces.

“So the outfits a win, yes?” You asked as he caressed your waist, hips, and thighs, sending tingles up and down your spine. In moments like this, you were almost certain that Riki could make you physically melt from his touch alone.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” he whispered deeply against the skin under your ear, kissing you softly and leaving another trail of tender pecks down your neck.

“Riki~,” you hummed gently, hands running through your boyfriends hair before he shushed you with a kiss to the lips, guiding you closer towards him by your waist.

You could feel your stomach start to flutter at how passionately he kissed you, wanting the moment to continue before he abruptly pulled away from you, his plump lips and half-lidded eyes clearly telling of how intense the contact was.

“My pretty girl,” he said, hands now leaving your body to cup your face, “you know that I think you look beautiful in anything, right?”

“Anything?,” you teased, toying with the neckline of his cotton T-shirt.

“Anything,” your boyfriend continued, reaching his hand towards your ankles, “Even in these dirty pink socks,” he giggled, tickling the base of your feet.

“Riki, you crazy child, stop that!” You yelped in a similar fit of giggles, swatting his hands away before guiding them back around you, initiating a hug. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, almost forgetting that you two were still in the changing rooms and not at home.

He guided you off of his lap, walking you towards the tall wall mirror with his hands wrapped around your waist, resting his chin on your left shoulder as you both faced your reflections.

“Where’d this sudden sense of confidence come from anyway,” you pressed, a small smile staining both your faces as you looked at the mirror, lost in each other’s beauty.

“I guess it kinda just radiated off of you,” he said, once again tugging at the belt hooks on your jeans, thinking of all the places he’d wanna take you to show off your new clothes.

You bowed your head, hiding your face at Riki’s words that nearly lit your heart ablaze, “Okay, let me change out of this so we can go to the register,” you chirped, watching as your sweet boyfriend, like a trained kitten, walked back to the corner of the dressing room and covered his eyes.

—❊ Special thanks to the anon who requesting this quick piece !! I hope you guys found it just as cute as I did =^..^=

—❊ tagging: @microwvdstrawb3rri3s , because I know how much she loves likes Ri-ki 🤭 And to me fellow OG supporters, @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @ashgonedash, and @yourmomscuntis2tighy + @watamotee33

—❊ I haven’t come up with a permanent tag list yet, so leave an ask or comment letting me know if you’d like to be tagged in all my works moving forward !!

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jellybonbons · 7 months ago

Text

What You Need

Kenji Sato x fem!reader

CW: 18+ (mdni), sub!ken, dom!reader, established relationship, lots of pet names, pure filth, possessive behaviour, praise kink, handjob, fingering, strap-on blowjob, deep-throat, slight breath play, pegging, anal sex.

Words: 2.7k

AN: first ken fic and yes I spent my time making it visually pleasing cus why not

The Weeknd - What you need

Ken Sato radiates confidence and cockiness on screen, captivating audiences with his bold persona. However, behind closed doors, he reveals a much different side, far from the confident image people envision. Away from the spotlight, he’s just Kenji– an emotional, compassionate, and gentle guy.

After the exhausting press conference, Kenji finally retreats to his sanctuary. As he steps into his sleek, modern bedroom, the weight of the day settles on his shoulders. The room embraces a woody aesthetic, blending minimalist design with warm tones, natural textures, and soft ambient lighting that envelopes him in a calming atmosphere. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame a view of the night sky, allowing the stars to cast a serene glow inside, further enhancing the tranquil mood.

In the dimly lit room, you wait for him, lounging on his king-sized bed, dressed in a matching silk robe and nightgown, softly scrolling through your tablet. With your presence, Kenji’s facade melts away, revealing the vulnerability hidden beneath his public identity. Crossing the room, his tired eyes soften when they meet yours.

"Long day?" you ask softly, putting the tablet away on the nightstand.

Kenji nods, sinking onto the bed and resting his head on your lap. “You have no idea,” he murmurs against your thighs.

You gently run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingertips. “Is there anything I can do to help?” you inquire, your voice fills with concern.

Kenji looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Just one thing,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“What is it?” you utter, leaning closer to hear him better.

“A kiss, please,” his lips pouting slightly.

Smiling fondly, you cup his face in your hands and press a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. “Better?”

Kenji chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Actually, no,” he admits with a playful grin. “I think I need more.”

“You’re insatiable,” you tease, leaning in to give him another kiss, this time with passion.

Kenji sits up, pulling you closer into his arms. His hands gently caress your back as he whispers between kisses, “You spoil me, that’s why.” The intensity between you grows, turning into a full-blown make-out session, passion igniting between you both.

As the kiss deepens, Kenji pulls away slightly, his gaze locking with yours. His voice is filled with neediness and a hint of vulnerability as he murmurs, “Baby, I need you,” his words are a plea tinged with longing. You stroke his cheek tenderly, meeting his gaze with concern and affection.

“What do you need, darling?” your fingers tracing soothing circles on his cheek.

Kenji’s eyes soften, his hold tightening around you. “I want you to take care of me,” he whispers. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, seeking solace and closeness in your embrace.

From the way he holds you and the tremble in his voice, you understand exactly what he needs.

You stroke his cheek gently and grinning. “Let’s get you comfortable,” you murmur, planting a tender kiss on his forehead.

He nods silently, watching you with affectionate eyes as you rise from the bed. You walk over to his walk-in closet, your steps quiet in the dimly lit room. Opening the closet door, you glance back at him over your shoulder.

“Take your clothes off, Ken,” you say softly yet commandingly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kenji's gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, filled with a mix of desire and anticipation. He begins by shrugging off his jacket, letting it slide off his shoulders and onto the floor with a soft thud. Next, he unclasps his watch and carefully sets it aside on the nightstand, the metal band cool against his skin.

He peels off his T-shirt, revealing the strong lines of his chest and the subtle definition of his muscles. Each article of clothing he sheds seems to heighten the tension in the room; the air thick with longing. He unbuttons his jeans and steps out of them, standing in just his boxers briefs.

Inside the small room, you quickly secure the leather harness over your underwear, not bothering to undress further because you don’t want to waste any more time — Kenji needs you. Your nightgown is short enough that it won’t hinder any movement, allowing you to move freely. With practised efficiency, you adjust the straps to ensure they aren’t too tight. Finally, you attach the pink dildo to the harness, making sure everything is in place before stepping out to rejoin him.

As you step out of the closet, Kenji's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal. His breath catches in his throat, and you can see the desire intensifying in his gaze. The sight of you, still wearing your nightgown with the harness and dildo securely in place, ignites a fire within him. He shifts slightly, unable to hide his growing excitement.

His vulnerability melts into raw need, and he reaches out for you, his hands trembling with anticipation. "You look incredible," Kenji breathes, his voice husky with desire. "Can’t believe you’re my woman.”

"I know, darling," you reply softly as you approach him. "And I’m all yours.”

Kenji nods eagerly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he whispers, his voice filled with longing. "I’m so tired from today.”

You cup his face in your hands, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I've got you," you murmur reassuringly. "Just relax and I’ll take care of everything."

With a gentle but firm touch, you push him down onto the bed, guiding him until his back rests against the headboard. You climb onto the bed, straddling his lap, your eyes locking onto his with a mix of desire and tenderness. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep kiss. The kiss quickly intensifies, hands gripping his shoulders as you bite his lower lip, silently asking for entrance.

Kenji parts his lips willingly, a soft gasp escaping him. Your tongue slips into his mouth with a blend of dominance and passion. His hands grip your waist, holding you close as you both lose yourselves in the kiss.

Breaking the kiss, you trail your lips along his jawline, nipping and planting soft kisses down to his neck. You can feel his pulse quicken under your touch. Kenji’s breath hitches, and his voice comes out in a needy whisper, “Hurry up and put it in already.”

You pause, looking into his eyes with a knowing grin. "Impatient, are we?" you tease gently, continuing to place kisses along his neck.

“Yes, been thinking ‘bout you,” he breathes, his eyes half-lidded with desire as he looks up at you.

You chuckle softly, your manicured fingers tracing gentle patterns on his chest. "We can't rush things, Kenny," you murmur, your voice both soothing and commanding. "I haven’t prepped you yet."

Kenji lets out a frustrated, yet needy sigh, his hands gripping your waist tighter. With a tender smile, you press another kiss to his lips. "I promise, it will be worth the wait," you reassure him as your fingers trail lower.

Slowly, you pull his boxer briefs down. His aching cock springs free, standing proudly, the sight of it sending a thrill through you. You lick your lips at the sight, feeling the heat radiating from him.

You lean over to the nightstand, opening the drawer and searching for the lube. Your fingers brush against the nearly empty tube, and with a sigh of mild frustration, you pull it out. Determined to make it work, you squeeze out the remaining lube onto your fingers, carefully gathering every last drop.

Gently, you spread his legs, positioning yourself between them. You begin to massage the cold gel into his anus with careful strokes, your other hand slowly working up and down his length. The combination of sensations makes him gasp, his body shuddering under your touch.

You slide one finger inside him, feeling him tense momentarily before he relaxes into the intrusion. His breath comes in ragged gasps as you work a second finger in, stretching and preparing him. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a kiss, silencing his moans with your mouth.

As you press a third finger inside, he groans into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips. He grips your silk robe tightly, his hands clutching the fabric with a mix of urgency and need. His body arches into yours as you take him to the brink of ecstasy.

Knowing his body so well, you sense he’s about to come, so you pull your hands away, eliciting a whine from him at the sudden absence of your touch. You glance at his hole and realise the gel isn’t quite enough for him to take you yet. A smirk curls your lips as you caress his jaw, an idea forming.

“Suck my dildo, baby.”

Kenji’s eyes widen with a mix of surprise and excitement. He nods eagerly, his breath coming in shallow pants as he anticipates what’s to come.

He pushes you to make space for him, his hands gripping your thighs as he leans forward, taking the pink dildo into his mouth. His lips and tongue work eagerly, coating it with saliva as you watch, your own arousal building with each movement.

“That’s it,” you coo, combing your fingers through his hair. “Make sure it’s nice and wet for you.”

Kenji fervently responds to your praise, his eyes shining with desire and appreciation. He gets off on your approval, each encouraging word making him suck harder, his mouth working expertly over the dildo. He moans around it, the vibrations adding to the growing heat between you both.

“You’re doing so well, Kenji. So eager to please me,” you purr, your fingers tightening in his hair.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours as he redoubles his efforts, his tongue swirling around the tip, lips sliding up and down the silicon shaft. The sight of him – the Ken Sato, so submissive and devoted – sends a wave of possessiveness through you.

You’re suddenly reminded of the press conference earlier, where one of the journalists had been flirting with him openly. The memory ignites a flicker of jealousy and anger within you, fueling your possessiveness. Without thinking, you push his head down onto the dildo, gripping his hair tightly.

"That's right," you say breathlessly, your voice edged with a mix of authority and jealousy. "No one else gets to have or see you like this."

Kenji's eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't resist. Instead, he works harder, his mouth moving more eagerly over the dildo, saliva dribbling onto the bedsheets.

"You’re my good boy," you murmur again, a possessive glint in your eye. "Only I can give you what you need.”

You push the dildo deeper into his mouth, watching as his nose brushes against the leather of your harness. Tears well up in his eyes, but he doesn't pull away, his hands gripping your thighs for support. You hold him there for a moment, savouring the power you have over him.

One…two…three…four…five…six…seven.

Kenji's eyes look up at you, wide and glassy. His tears spill over as he struggles to breathe, but his desire to please you keeps him in place. You finally ease up after seven seconds, allowing him to take a gasping breath.

You wipe the saliva from his chin with a gentle touch. "You did great, Kenny. Proud of you.”

Kenji's breath hitches, his chest rising and falling with emotion. "Thank you," he manages with a hoarse voice.

“You're welcome, sweetheart," you whisper, your voice firm yet tender. "Now, lay down on your back for me."

Kenji obeys without hesitation, shifting to lie back on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. You grab a pillow and slide it under his hips, positioning him perfectly. You watch as he settles, his body displaying eagerness. You position yourself over him, eyes scanning his body, admiring his form as you prepare to continue.

You angle the dildo at his entrance, teasing the tip in first, watching his reaction. His eyes almost roll back, and a low groan escapes his lips. Slowly, you push yourself in, feeling the resistance give way as his body accepts the intrusion. The mixture of his saliva and the lube allows for a smooth glide.

He moans loudly as you fill him, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. His hands grip the sheets, knuckles turning white as he adjusts to the sensation.

“You’re taking me so well, baby.”

His moans deepen, his body arching towards yours, seeking more of your touch. You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Do you like that?" you whisper, your breath hot against his skin. "Tell me how it feels."

"Feels...so good," he pants. “Can you move, please?”

Without hesitation, you begin to thrust into him, your movements slow and deliberate at first. The friction builds as you move your hips against his, each thrust eliciting a gasp or moan from his parted lips. His hands find your hips, trying to pull you closer, deeper, as his need grows more urgent.

The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together, the soft creak of the bed, and his breathless whispers of encouragement. "More," he pleads, his voice thick with desire. "Please, more."

You quicken your pace, each thrust becoming more powerful and precise, hitting just the right spots to drive him wild. The look of pure ecstasy on his face fuels your own arousal, and you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, muffling his cries of pleasure as you take him to the edge.

"Harder," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a desperate plea. The silk robe clings to your skin, becoming an annoyance in the heat of the moment. With a frustrated growl, you almost rip the delicate fabric off, tossing it aside without a second thought.

Now free of the robe, you feel the cool air against your heated skin, heightening your senses. You grip his hips firmly, your nails digging into his flesh as you increase the intensity of your thrusts. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

His hands clutch at your back, sliding the nightgown off your shoulders until it pools around your hips. His nails leave faint trails on your skin as he tries to ground himself in the overwhelming sensations. You lean down again, your breath hot against his ear, "Who’s making you feel good, hm?"

"Just you ma’am…please, don’t stop," his voice shaky with desire.

Your movements become even more frenzied, driven by the sight of his pleasure and the sound of his desperate pleas. The nightgown, now bunched around your waist, adds tantalising friction as you thrust into him. His head tilts back, exposing his neck to your kisses and nips, each contact sending shivers through his body.

You admire the marks blooming on his skin, every bite and hickey, a visible claim that he belongs to you. His eyes flutter shut at every thrust you make. “Eyes on me, pretty boy,” you command.

He struggles to comply, his eyes wide and glassy as they lock onto yours. He can feel himself getting closer, so you move your hand to his aching cock, helping him with his release. The combination of your touch on his cock and the way your dildo hits the right spot sends him into overdrive.

Kenji's breathing becomes erratic, his body trembling under the intensity. With a final, powerful thrust, he comes hard, his release coating his torso in thick spurts. The room is filled with the sound of his cries of pleasure mingling with your heavy breaths.

As the waves of his climax subside, exhaustion quickly takes over. His eyes close, and he falls into a deep, satiated sleep. You chuckle softly, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. Carefully, you pull out, eliciting an unconscious whimper from him, and begin to clean him up. You wipe away the sweat and arousal with wet wipes, ensuring he's comfortable and clean before pulling the covers over his body.

Watching him for a moment, a sense of satisfaction washes over you. You brush a few strands of hair from his forehead, “Rest well, darling,” you whisper then quietly leave the bed to deal with your own...problem.

#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚#dividers by saradika #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato smut #kenji sato smut #ken sato fanfic #kenji sato fanfic #ultraman rising fanfic #ultraman rising smut

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thecharacterchronicler · 6 months ago

Text

Perform || Coriolanus Snow x Reader || Smut

Outline: You get married to Coriolanus Snow, a powerful man that you don’t even know, and try to adjust to your new life as his wife.

Word count: 3’500

Warnings: Arranged marriage, explicit smut and probably a few mistakes here and there because English isn’t my first language.

Author’s note: This may or may not be a prequel to There Will Come A Ruler. I’m not sure it fits all the details as it wasn’t planned but inspiration suddenly struck me so here it is.

The room went dead silent as soon as you passed the threshold, numerous pairs of eyes turning to stare at you. There wasn’t a single familiar face among the men standing around the large desk, previously hunched over a pile of papers. You knew that they would never be able to tell how intimidated you felt under their severe gazes, you knew how to fake confidence better than anyone… However, two pale blue eyes seemed to be staring right into your soul, as if he knew.

“Great timing, we just finalized the contract.” One of the older man in a suit said, seemingly wanting to break the cold silence that weighted heavily on your shoulders. You nodded without a word, approaching the desk, coming to a stop next to the youngest man, the one with the unsettling eyes.

You turned your head to look at him more closely and his eyes darted away instantly, landing on a distant object at the opposite side of the office. He stood straight, his head held high and his arms crossed behind his back, impassible.

When you entered the room, he seemed to be radiating with light in the darkness of the office, surrounded by men in boring black suits while his was made out of an immaculate white fabric. Combined with the paleness of his skin and his carefully combed back blond curls, he resembled the image of an angel you had seen on a very ancient painting once. But his indifference towards you, and the icy stare he gave you, made it clear that you wouldn’t find solace in him.

“I reviewed the contract at your family’s request and made sure everything is in your best interest.” The man who had spoken to you already said again, handing you the very last page of the pile of documents on the table and an elegant pen to sign it with.

You didn’t doubt that the lawyer your family had hired was competent and probably too scared by them to dare make a mistake while establishing a contract in your name with an army of other lawyers in the room but you still felt compelled to take a look at the full file in front of you, ignoring the pen he was still holding for you to take.

Maybe it was a desperate attempt to gain time on your part more than a necessity to double check the terms and conditions of the agreement you were meant to sign but, as you glanced towards the man in white, you were pretty sure you saw the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, although he was still determined to not look at you directly.

Some clauses written on the paper seemed reasonable, others were more restrictive and some downright affected your freedom and free will but you knew you wouldn’t be able to negotiate anything better. You wouldn’t dare try anyway, everyone had been telling you what a privilege it was for you and what an honor it was for your family to be offered such an opportunity. Even in the high society of the Capitol, it didn’t happen often for a girl who had just graduated from the Academy to secure such an interesting match. It was even more rare that such a match didn’t require to be seduced in order to arrange a marriage...

“Everything seems in order.” You finally said, after taking your time to read each paragraph of the contract, ignoring the lawyers’ growing frustration and impatience around you.

“I can attest that it is.” The one lawyer meant to be on your side confirmed and, even if you felt the urge to tell him that he could have done better - or at least come to an agreement that wouldn’t force you to produce heirs in a few years - you quietly nodded, taking the pen he was offering you and writing your name at the bottom of the last page.

You paused for a moment, admiring your handwriting in black ink, a small gesture that sealed your future.

It was a privilege. An honor. One that you couldn’t refuse.

You took a step back and turned to the man in white, handing him the pen. He took it without looking at you, hunching his tall frame over the desk to sign his name next to yours in elegant calligraphied letters.

Coriolanus Snow.

You managed to take a deep but silent breath, the implications of the contract you had both signed downing on you. Your life was about to change forever, you’d have to leave your home, your family, everything and start a whole new life, with a man you didn’t even know. He was a complete stranger to you, all you knew about him was that he was the youngest head game maker for the Hunger Games in history, the protégé of Doctor Gaul herself and that, as if it wasn’t enough already, he had announced that he’d be campaigning to become the next president of Panem.

“Well, I hope you’ll be satisfied with the agreement, Mrs Snow.” Your lawyer said, but you didn’t realize right away that you were the one he was addressing, your new last name sounding foreign.

You forced a smile at him, watching as all the men slowly walked out of the office, leaving you on your own with your new husband. A shiver ran down your spine as the door closed behind them, a cold breeze caressing your skin. Coriolanus finally turned to face you, his icy eyes staring into your soul once again.

“I’ll meet you at the altar in three days.” He declared, emotionless. You quietly nodded, too intimidated to say a word. You knew that - much like the official documents you had signed already making you his wife - your wedding ceremony would be nothing like you envisioned it to be.

Time flew by after that. You had spent it feeling mostly overwhelmed by the amount of things you were expected to do before the ceremony. You had to pack your belongings, decide what you’d take with you to your husband’s manor and what could be left behind, attend various appointments meant to get you to beauty base zero before your very public wedding and - even if you didn’t have a say in the preparations - you still had to make sure everything would look flawless on the big day, including yourself.

Your family’s chauffeur drove you to the venue early in the morning where a team of people were ready to take care of your hair, nails and makeup and would help you get into the gorgeous white dress that was selected for you by your new husband and his own team. You watched as your reflection kept changing in the mirror in front of you, making you look like a glamorous bride… The only thing missing to such a perfect portrait was a genuine glint of happiness in your eyes.

Once you were ready to face the crowd of onlookers, news reporters and photographers posted outside the venue - hoping to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds on their way out after the ceremony - the people who had prepared you left, leaving you on your own in the luxurious suit, barely recognizing the person facing you in the mirror.

The short hour before the ceremony felt like agony, your hands shaking in fear of not being good enough to live up to everyone’s expectations and your chest constricted with anxiety. You couldn’t help but wonder what people would think of you when they’ll see you in your bridal attire. Would they think you were a good match for a man as important as Coriolanus Snow ? See you as worthy to potentially become the First Lady of Panem ? Would they think you were a cute couple, or see you as an ill match ? And what about him ? Would he find you beautiful when you’ll walk down the aisle to him ?

A firm knock on the door saved you from drowning in your anxious thoughts. You were expecting your family’s lawyer to come by and give you a few advices on how to live your new life without inadvertently breaking some of the terms of the contract you had signed. You also knew the wedding organizer would show up to give you a few pointers for the ceremony and your public appearance after it…

But, when you opened the door, a surprised gasp escaped your lips. Coriolanus was devastingly handsome in a tailored white suit, more fitting and luxurious than the one he wore when you had met him three days earlier. There wasn’t a single strand of his blond hair out of place, not a trace of dark circles under his blue eyes while your team had spent almost an entire hour trying to conceal yours after the sleepless nights you had had.

He smiled at you in a way you weren’t certain was genuine and held up a huge bouquet of white roses, tied together by a blood red satin ribbon. You understood it was yours to walk down the aisle with, the flowers matching the one pinned to the lapel of his jacket.

“Thank you.” You said, as you took the flowers. He was looking at you without any hint of admiration in his gaze, as if the hours your team had spent on your hair and makeup and the expensive wedding gown you were wearing didn’t affect him at all. As if he still couldn’t care less about you… “I’ve heard it’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.”

He huffed a mocking laughter at your words.

“Good thing we’re already legally married then.” He countered, the reminder adding to the panic in the pit of your stomach. “This ceremony is just meant to give them a good show.”

You knew that, of course. It was your duty - as his wife - to publicly appear by his side and pretend that you were overjoyed about it all. You were meant to help him build a flawless reputation so that he may eventually become president one day and you knew that his popularity was determined by how much the people could relate to him, or at least feel included in parts of his life. Soon, you’d be introduced to them as Mrs Snow and you couldn’t afford to mess up.

You turned around to place the beautiful - but surprisingly heavy - bouquet of roses on the vanity, hearing the door closing behind your back. When you looked over your shoulder, he was standing behind you, clearly expecting something from you although you weren’t sure what.

It was the first time you were fully alone with him, in such proximity to each other, and his intimidating posture added to the way his eyes darkened when they met yours made you feel quite weary, as if you were suddenly in some kind of imminent danger.

“Now turn around so I can make sure you’re ready.” He demanded, his voice slightly lower than usual.

You obeyed without a word, slowly spinning around twice as you felt the weight of his analyzing stare on you, making your body tingle with an odd electric sensation. Once you were face to face with him again, you couldn’t tell if he was satisfied or not by the way you looked, his expression serious and unreadable. A heavy silence lingered between you as you desperately hoped to hear a few words of affirmation to boost your confidence a bit… He didn’t say any but he took a step closer, his face closer to yours than what would be deemed acceptable between two strangers. He pushed a strand of hair away from your forehead, his eyes briefly plunging into yours before his hand traveled down to your mouth. He traced your lips with his thumb, fading out your lipstick slightly.

“I hope you paid attention to the wedding night clause on our contract.” He spoke, almost in a whisper. “Because as soon as we’ll be done performing for the crowd, I’m going to make you mine.”

Your body shuddered in response, and you weren’t quite sure if it was because it made you nervous or if because such a promise actually excited you somehow. You didn’t have time to think about it anyway, another knock on the door forcing you apart. The wedding organizer announced that the ceremony was about to start, forcing Coriolanus out of your suite, visibly oblivious to the tension that tainted the atmosphere between you. You took a deep breath to compose yourself, grabbed your bouquet and folllwed them out, ready to perform.

You spent the whole ceremony in a daze, not quite realizing what was happening or what anyone was saying. But you still managed to say the one thing everyone expected of you; I do. You smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers, made sure to keep your eyes open despite the blinding flashing lights of the cameras on you and took the time to greet everyone of importance that was in attendance that day. When your new husband had to kiss you in front of hundred of curious faces staring at both of you, he did it softly and chastely which almost felt a bit disappointing considering the authority and confidence he had spoken with earlier. But it sure was a cute picture for the tabloids.

You returned to the mansion he owned in the most expensive and luxurious area of the Capitol and were showed to your new bedroom by a maid, noting how your belongings had already been unpacked and organized to make you feel at home. It was only after she helped you out of your wedding gown and into a more practical and relaxed dress that you realized that this bedroom was yours and yours only. There wasn’t a single item that looked like it could belong to your new husband, none of his clothes in the dressing room, none of the products he put on his hair to keep them perfectly combed back throughout the day in the bathroom. And, even though this man was still a complete stranger to you, you still felt a hint of disappointment at the realization that he wasn’t planning on spending any of his time with you if none of his potential supporters could witness it.

He still had been thoughtful enough to ask another one of his employees to deliver a black box to your bedroom, an unexpected wedding present. You opened it as soon as you were all alone and your eyes widened in shock, discovering some lingerie made out of the thinnest and softest lace you ever touched. It was a gorgeous set that complimented your skin tone so well, it almost looked like it had been made specifically for you.

You tried the pieces on, surprised to see how each of them fitted you perfectly and comfortably. However, even if you felt pretty good in your new lingerie, you felt too awkward to go find your husband with nothing else on, so you pulled your dress back over the lace, hiding everything from view, before you walked out of your bedroom, determined to find Coriolanus in the huge mansion you now shared with him.

You easily found him downstairs, sitting on a teal sofa in front of a modern chimney. He was reading with his ankle resting on top of his knee. He looked up to you as soon as you stepped into the living room, immediately folding his newspaper to give you his full attention.

“Is your new bedroom at your convenience ?” He asked, politely.

“Absolutely.” You replied, nervously fidgeting with your hands as you stood in front of him. “And thank you for the wedding present.”

“Does it fit you ?��

“Yes, perfectly.”

“Take off your clothes then.” He demanded, and you wondered how he managed to sound so intimidating despite sitting down and you, towering over him.

“Here ? Now ?” You exclaimed, looking around for house employees.

“I think I’ve waited long enough.” He declared, unwavering. “So take them off or I will.”

You did as he requested, nervously removing your casual dress so that you stood in nothing but your new lingerie in front of him. His icy gaze roamed your body from head to toe, his expression still too closed off to tell if he liked what he saw or not.

He stood up, bringing his hand to your chest and tracing the outline of the lace over your breast with a finger. Goosebumps rose on your skin in reaction, your heart beating faster so close to where he was touching you.

“Turn.” He commanded and you obeyed, feeling slightly more confident in this perfectly fitting set than you did in your wedding dress. You felt his hands on your body again, tugging the lower part of the ensemble down your thighs agonizingly slowly. Did it mean he didn’t like it ? Or was he simply curious to see what was underneath the thin lace fabric ? “Lie down.”

He gestured to the couch he was sitting on a minute ago. You followed his command, your head resting on a soft satin pillow and your knees pulled back to you to leave him enough room to join you. He sat down, fully removing the piece of underwear around your thighs and you shivered when he pushed your knees apart, once again analyzing your body with a critical gaze.

He leaned forward and you gasped when you felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue between your folds, tracing a few circles around your clit before moving down to your entrance. He sat back straight, an amused grin on his face as he licked his glistening lips and took in the shocked expression on your face.

“I needed to know how my wife tastes.” He explained, your body tingling with excitement. He opened up his trousers, pulling his long and hard erection out. Your eyes widened, taking in his size, which seemed to amuse him yet again. “You can take it.”

He sounded pretty confident about that but you weren’t so sure. You didn’t get the chance to protest though, because he immediately moved to align himself up with your entrance and pushed his tip through it without hesitation.

You gasped at the burning sensation, your fingers tightening around the edges of the couch. A satisfied groan rumbled in his throat as he kept pushing himself in, inch by inch until he was fully buried inside you and you couldn’t remember how to breathe correctly.

It wasn’t as pleasant to you as it seemed to be to him at first, your walls still stretching to accommodate his girth and length while he took advantage of the tighteness ensnaring him to push himself as deeply as he could.

It was too much. Way too much. But, just as you considered asking him to pause, suddenly your body stopped resisting him, welcoming him instead, allowing his cock to slide back and forth in rythym with the way he rolled his hips against you, causing a warm and tingly sensation to bubble up deep in your core.

You looked at him, holding himself above you with his strong arms on each side of the couch, his muscles carved under his pale skin. A blond lock of hair bouncing against his forehead in synch with his movements and his eyes were glued to yours, attentive to how your traits changed each time he modified the pace of his thrusts.

Soon, it felt like too much again, but in a good way. You felt close to imploding from how good it felt to have him hitting inside you at a relentless rythym.

You turned your head to the side, hoping the pillow would help silence your moans, worried that every employee in the mansion might hear the uncontrollable sounds of pleasure that kept resonating inside the living room.

“Look at me.” He immediately ordered, not waiting for you to obey as his hand flew to your face, turning your head so that you’d face him again. His fingers then dropped lower, wrapping around your neck, causing the whimpers escaping from your mouth to sound a lot more desperate. “I want to see what you’ll look like when you’ll come as I’ll fill you up.”

A few more thrusts of his hips, his tip hitting the perfect spot inside of you and you felt your whole body contracting intensely, your core tightening around him as you cried out in pleasure, closing your eyes and your mouth dropping open in shock at the intensity of the wave of sheer bliss that ran through your whole body.

“So beautiful.” He commented, his eyes fixed on you in genuine admiration this time. His labored breaths got louder and he climaxed, his erection throbbing as it spurt out a load of hot cum deep inside you.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 6 months ago

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Can I request leona with a princess Diana type s/o? The public absolutely loves them regardless of if they like the monarchy because of the way they connect with the people effortlessly and has a genuine drive to improve their lives. Just radiating kindness.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona doesn’t get what you want with him. He wouldn’t turn you down as, unfortunately, he had fallen for your charms just as quickly as others seemed to. He had seen the not so perfect side of you, the frustration you held close to your chest, the sadness at not being able to change the world quick enough. You were remarkably more human to him and that’s why he could see himself with you, because as perfect as you appeared to the world there was much more going on with you than meets the eye. He wanted to protect that, protect your image and reputation, as there were far too many people who might try to exploit or use you.

Leona is bothered when people say you’re a mismatched couple. His confidence is enough to leave him secure in the relationship but how could he not get irritated at being judged yet again. Did they think he pulled the wool over your eyes? Did they consider your intelligence that low that he could manipulate you into a relationship with him? He huffed at the thought, knowing he’d have to brush them off just as he normally did at home, the title of ‘second prince’ seeming to follow him everywhere he went. He never had to ask for reassurance but you gave it to him anyway, assuring him there’s no prince more perfect for you than him.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader

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redfoxwritesstuff · 9 months ago

Text

A Taste of Sugar, Part 2 (18+)

Here be the smut- proceed with caution if you're over 18 Alastor x reader Rated: E Chapter warnings: Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Tentacles, Dom Alastor, Restrained Reader, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex. Part 1

AN: Here lies spitesmut, 11k fucking words born out of spite. Nonny, do not tell me what I will and will not do. Enjoy the cartoon smut you didn't want to see. The blood drinking you didn't want to read. The shadow tentacles you didn't want to see. The demon you didn't want to fuck. Cuz, I know you're going to read this- After all, scrolling on is far too fucking complicated for you. Welcome to my "I'll fuck a cartoon serial killer era" Love, Kit. (PS. 3 things published in 48 hours is *never* going to happen again)

~~~~~<3

You were pretty sure he was no longer talking about desserts. You were pretty sure he was talking about another appetite that you’d heard speculation that he didn’t partake in. You were pretty sure you were losing your mind.

“What circumstances?” You whisper as he dragged his thumb out of your mouth, dragging the pad against your lip again.

“Should someone catch my eye and sufficiently hold my attention,” Someone, not something. There was no doubt in your mind what you were discussing now. “I may partake.”

“Do,” You hesitated, before asking the question you hadn’t ever considered yourself. “Do you wish to partake tonight?”

You hadn’t thought about Alastor in this way before and yet, it was like you were seeing him now, truly for the first time. He was a handsome man in his own terrifying way. Tall and lean, quiet confidence and sheer power radiated off of him. He was chaotic, driving those around him mad.

“You make me wish to partake,” Alastor said, leaning into your space as you puzzled over what that could mean. Surely it was just for tonight. But if it was just for tonight, why would he have been sending you treats with the hope that you’d share? That you’d think of him?

What did it all mean?

“Oh?” You whispered as you finally braved meeting his red eyes only to instantly find yourself captured by the way he looked at you, lids heavy and pupils blown.

“May I?” Alastor’s other hand snaked around your waist, hovering, not quite touching but painfully close to doing so. “Partake, that is?”

“Okay?”

As soon as the whispered word left your mouth, his thumb dragged down your lip and chin. His fingers gripped your chin and pulled your face up as he stepped into the last of your space and leaned down.

His smile never faltered, even as his lips closed and met yours. The miniscule distance between his arm and your waist disappeared in an instant as he held you to him.

Alastor lacked the bulk of muscle but you could feel the power thrumming through his body as your hand reached up, resting against his chest. You were far from a blushing virgin though you were also not the most promiscuous woman in hell and yet touching him felt scandalous.

The way his tongue snaked out from between his lips, lapping the sticky sweet sugar his thumb left on your lips. Your mind was too preoccupied by the feeling of him licking the sugar up to question it when he took your hand from his chest.

Shadows flickered, you didn’t know if they were real or a figment of your imagination playing images behind your eyelids. There was a shifting feeling, as if the world itself was somehow moving around you, under you. It felt somewhat like if you had been standing on a moving bus, eyes closed and trusting. Not exactly, that didn’t come close to the feeling but it was a start. It was as close as you would ever come to explaining the feeling.

“Forgive me, my dear. I did not wish to be observed.” He spoke softly, still standing suffocatingly close as you observed the room you found yourself over his shoulder.

A fireplace against the far wall gave off flickering warm light and heat that wasn’t needed yet was relaxing just the same. Thick carpet muffled your shuffling step but in the distance that thick carpet along with the rich red walls gave way to a landscape that looked so hauntingly human and yet was nothing you’d seen before.

The portion of the room that was still a room was dark, save for the firelight and moonlight from where it gave way to the outdoors. It was magical and yet as disorienting as Alastor’s kiss or the way he had transported you there.

“Where are we?” You ask, already knowing the answer but not really being able to understand how such a space could exist within the hotel.

“My room,” Alastor answered, hooking your chin with the backs of the fingers he had wrapped around your hand, drawing your attention back to him, silently demanding once again that you pay attention to him.

Alastor pulled you to him, pinning you against his body as his sharp teeth nipped at your lips. Reflexively, your tongue darted out, running over the stinging skin. The lingering sweet of the sugar still clings to her lips, mostly gone now.

Alastor guided her as his grinning lips worked down her jaw, tracing the sweet taste of sugar his fingers had left behind as he walked you back toward his bed. Sharp teeth nipped at your throat, leaving stinging lovebites that leaked drops of ruby red.

No, Alastor didn’t care for desserts or sweets much at all but this was a flavor that had him humming in delight. The hint of sugar on your skin, the salt of you and the coppery taste of your blood made for a treat he would savor.

You weren’t sure when you wrapped your free arm around him, hand snaking up his back and clinging to his shoulder as he moved you through is space. The position you had found yourself could be mistaken for dancing, should anyone peek in on the room.

The back of your knees hit the soft edge of his bed causing your balance, already teetering, to fail you. Alastor’s hand around your waist allowed him to control your decent, leading your back onto his bed while driving you forward with his lips.

Reaching up, you ran your hands over his chest before working the buttons of his coat free. If this was going to be the only time you got to have Alastor, you intended to make the best of it.

Slipping your hands under his coat, you take in the strong planes of his abdomen and chest, the way his muscles defined yet lean, moved as his lips worked down your neck. Slowly, you ran your hands up his shoulder before pushing the coat back, sending it down his back.

Leaning back, Alastor freed his arms from the coat, tossing it blindly to a chair near by. You were entranced as he reached up, pulling his bowtie from his neck and sending it soaring too. Long fingers worked the first few buttons of his shirt free, exposing a tantalizing amount of his neck.

It felt scandalous to see Alastor’s high collar undone. The way his chest and clavicles could just be glimpsed as he moved sent fire through you. It was silly, really. The man was still fully dressed and yet it felt to you like he had not a stich of clothing on.

As he invaded your space again, driving you back with the intensity of his presence, you wanted nothing more than to reach up and touch him. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you from scooting away from him on instinct alone.

Your fingers grazed him before black wrapped around your wrists, pulling your arms up and back as you gasped in shock.

“I said I wish to partake, not that you may.” Alastor said, wicked grin seeming to glow in the dim room.

His hands were so strong on you as he resumed his work, nipping down until your soft night shirt blocks his progress. The fact that it was common knowledge that it was a favorite of yours didn’t stop him from gripping the fabric and using his nails to rip it apart.

You hadn’t left your room with the intention of finding Alastor, or anyone else for that matter, for a romantic tryst and were far from dressed for it. There was no sexy lingerie for him to find under. There was no lacy bra.

Just you, breasts on full display and core covered in a pair of shorts that would have otherwise been too short to wear around the hotel. You hadn’t intended anyone to see you but he was seeing far more of you than anyone had for a long time.

You wanted to apologize or make excuses for your lack of preperation for his eyes. He was Alastor, after all, the great and powerful overlord who could have any woman on her knees for him if he showed an interest in having her. Your face was hot with the knowledge that you were so-

“Beautiful,” he said as he looked down at you, running sharp tipped fingers along the curves of your sides.

You flinched away from the tickling touch, not able to go anywhere with your arms pinned above you. One of your legs was pinned by him when he had climbed up onto the bed, the other hanging limp and unsure what to do, any attempt to squirm away from him would result in you opening your legs up to him more or running your thigh and calf along his leg.

“Beautiful,” He said again, this time you registered the word, his hands moving lower. Warm palms smoothed down your hips, finding your shorts and making quick work of them as well.

“Alastor?” You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him, to see him like he was seeing you.

“You have denied me, my dear.” He looked up at you from where he had been nipping his way down your chest, leaving red marks from his sharp teeth along the tender swell of your breasts. “Time and time again, you have denied me your treats. Are you going to deny me again?”

“No?” Your breath caught in your throat as your head spun.

“Good girl,” He drew out the words, singing them slowly as he nipped the underside of your breast, nose nudging the pebble of your neglected nipple as again, a droplet of blood was lapped up by his tongue.

His breath ghosted over your nipple, teasing it with the breeze as he exhaled a deep sigh through his nose. You arched into the feeling, his hands gripping around your ribcage, making you aware of just how much bigger than you he was in so many ways.

He towered over many weaker demons and you were no exception to that. Long fingers caressed your back as the pads of his thumbs ran along the front of your ribs. In an instant, he could break your body if he wanted to, crush your ribcage by simply tightening his grip.

Your life could be ended by his hand should he change his mind, there wasn’t a single goddamned thing you could do about it. That realization only served to stroke the fire his words had ignited.

Pain was never something you would have said you were into before. The lovebites stung, sure but his teeth were so sharp that the sting came after each bite, as he licked up the bubbles of blood. As his sharp teeth scratched over the nipple he took into his mouth, you surprised yourself with the gasping moan that slipped from your throat.

Long, dexterous tongue lapped at the nub, soothing every cutting scratch and erasing every trace of blood.

“Beautiful and delicious,” Alastor mused as he made his way down your abdomen.

Something cold and firm wrapped around your free leg, pulling it out from where it was resting against Alastor. A new wave of heat flooded through you as Alastor shifted his position, freeing your trapped leg and nestling his knees between them. A similar force grabbed ahold of the freed ankle and pulled, spreading you open before him.

“You’re so timid.” He mused, fingers digging into your hips as you were spread even wider by black tentacles you had only ever seen cause carnage before.

“Tell me what you want,” He ordered, red eyes looking into yours, “Tell me what you want to share with me.”

“Alastor?” You knew he knew, why should you have to say it?

You’d been dancing around it. you’d been hinting at it. The idea of saying it explicitly terrified you.

You watched as his eyes traced your face, neck, shoulders. They swept down your chest and up your arms. They were everywhere and yet he seemed unconcerned with taking in your core spread before him.

“Say it. Tell me,” His hands ran up your thighs, thumbs stretching to caress your inner thigh, coming so close to your heat as his fingers wrapped around the exteriors. “And perhaps we can reach a deal?”

A deal. Alastor was a deal maker. Powerful. You needed to get yourself out of this situation. Whatever the hell was going on here, you needed to run away. You had no business making deals with Alastor, let alone while you were spread naked and wanting on his bed.

This was a bad position to be in. He had all the power and you had nothing to offer him except what? Some treats? Your body?

His thumb came even closer, caressing the curve where your thighs met your lips. The contact had your heart stopping in your chest and your breath trapped in your lungs.

“What is it your desire?” Alastor’s voice was thick with static, radio overlay cackling and distorting the sound. Colors seemed to invert, shadows grew and yet you couldn’t look away from him. The antlers atop his head grew, branching out. Colors snapped back to correct but now over saturated. The darkness was too deep. The reds too red.

“You,” You breathe out, not even fully aware of what you were admitting. You should be terrified but need burned through you as the power, his power, surged around you.

For all of eternity women have fallen at the feet of powerful men for a sip of what they could offer. For centuries, it had been the only way women could obtain any power for themselves.

It turns out, you were no different. Sipping at the alter of power seemed to be ingrained in your very DNA. You had no hope of becoming powerful on your own but if you could just taste his power, just for a night, you would give anything.

“And what will you give me?” Alastor said, joints shifting unnaturally as he towered over you, thumbs still caressing the edge of your lips even as he pulled your thighs further apart by the shadows handling your ankles.

“Me,” You said, fearing it wasn’t going to be enough. You would never be enough for him. There was no power within you that you could give him.

“For eternity.” Alastor said, eyes now black, red dials burning into you, green stichs standing out in vivid contrast to the black and red that made up all of him. “I shall have you for eternity?”

“If you’ll have me?” You were gasping, feeling like you were being smothered by the raw power in the air as he leaned up your body, somehow doing so without shifting off his knees between your legs, “If you want me.”

“You will be mine.” Alastor said, terrifying face close to yours’, “Your treats will be mine. Your body, mine. Your heart, mine. Your very soul, mine. You will share it with none. In exchange, you get me. Is it a deal?”

This was insanity. Madness. You knew better. He had asked for your soul. You don’t just sell your soul to get laid. He had asked for your heart.

Your heart.

And your soul.

But, he had asked for your heart.

“Why do you want my soul?”

“For safe keeping.” Alastor’s breath washed over you, hot and moist. “To ensure none can take what is mine.”

“Yours?” You twitched, wanting to touch him even as the idea of giving your everything to him for a night terrified you. “Give you everything for eternity just to have you-” You gasped as the thing wrapped around your ankle snaked higher, caressing your knee. “For a night?”

“An eternity for an eternity,” Alastor offered, “That is the terms I am laying out. Do you accept?”

“Deal,” You whispered and his lips crashed into yours as his expanded form seemed more likely to devour you than kiss you.

Powered washed over you, flowed through you as the weight of a shackle settled against your neck. The chain attached to it pulled taught, drawing you to Alastor with what little ability you had to move as the back of the collar bit into your neck.

As he kissed you, his body shifted, pressing you into the mattress before he shrank down to what you considered as his normal size.

Your leg was pulled up by the knee wrapped in shadows, spreading you out even more. Your other ankle was pushed up, forcing your knee to buckle. As soon as you tried to use the freedom of movement this granted you to preserve any ounce of modesty, black wrapped around that knee as well and you were pulled wide open before red eyes that finally took your most intimint place in.

“Beautiful,” Alastor remarked as his hands returned to your inner thighs, running up the expanse of exposed skin, savoring the contrast of it against his bloodstained hands.

Your face was hot as you struggled to breathe through the way his eyes devoured your exposed sex. Slick already coated you, having begun to pool as you had been fed pastry ever so intimately in the kitchen.

You could feel how much worse the situation was now. With your legs held so far open, there was nothing to obstruct Alastor’s view as you could feel a wave of slick slip from you as muscles clenched.

His fingers caressed over you weeping hole, scooping up the slick on the pads of his fingers and held them up for you to see the evidence as he asked, “Why are you so wet?”

You hid your face against your arm, unable to take the power of his eye contact any longer. There was no part of his physical body touching you in that moment and you weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

“What has your body so excited already? Tell me.” When you failed, instead trying to hide in shame, Alastor demanded you use your words or he would leave you as you were for however long it took. There was not an ounce of doubt in you that he would follwo through with the threat.

“You,” You tripped over the simple word.

“But I’ve hardly touched you?” Alastor teased, bringing his hand closer and closer to your face, ensuring you can smell your arousal on his fingertips .

“You’ve been touching me,” You struggled to force the words out, unsure if he was teasing you, torturing you or actually unaware of the impact his actions had on you.

“Wonderful,” Alastor said, leaning back and running his long tongue over his slick covered fingers. Could he taste the sugar on his fingers in addition to the taste of you? The question drew a shameful moan from your throat regardless of the fact that he was only touching you with shadows.

“How terribly rude of me!” His voice was bright and cheery, as if wasn’t kneeling between your spread legs, body on display. “I chastise you for not sharing and here I am, keeping a treat all to myself. Where have my manners gone?”

He shifted, supporting his weight over you with a hand on the mattress close enough to your ribs for you to feel the warmth of him yet not touching you. Bringing his fingers, still coated in the slick he had scooped up to your lips as if he was offering a taste of some treat.

It was lewd. Never had you found yourself one to even think about tasting yourself. It wasn’t something that interested you in the past. You turned your head as he presented his fingers closer.

The slippery pad of his fingers ran along your lower lip. When you failed to open to him willingly, cringing away instead, he forced his fingers into your mouth. His sharp nails pinched and cut your lips in the process causing you to gasp and make his task all the more easier.

“You will take what I offer you.” He said simply as he caressed your tongue with the pads of his first and middle fingers. The taste of you wasn’t terrible. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over his fingers, twisting around them.

“Good girl.” He praised, voice warm and musical as his fingers pushed deeper into your mouth. “When did it start?”

“Wha?” It was difficult to form the question with his fingers, sweet from sugar and you in your mouth.

“When did your body start preparing itself for me?” Leaning down, Alastor swept his tongue over your bleeding lips, groaning at the taste after he withdrew his fingers. You had finally been given the ability to clearly speak only to to have him suffocate your ability to think with his presence.

“Was it my lips on your skin? The feeling of my kiss?” He teased, voice musical.

“No,” You were not sure where this night was going to go, you couldn’t even be sure what Alastor was going to do with your body as he tormented you. He teased you with his words and his eyes more than anything else.

“Was it my hands, ripping your pathetic simple clothes?”

“No,” You couldn’t look away from the red of his eyes.

“Was it my shadows? Gripping you? Spreading you? Presenting you?”

“No,” Your voice was little more than a whine as you tried and failed to struggle free from his grasp.

“What was it?” Alastor demanded, stattic growing. “Tell me.”

“From the start.” You whined when he demanded elaboration, “Feeding me. The sugar on your fingers. The look in your eyes. From the start.”

“Interesting,” Alastor leaned back, pulling the warmth of his body away from you as he seemed to work over the information.

You flushed under his eyes, unable to read him. You wanted him to want you but fuck, did he even? Was this just a game? A way to pass the night?

The shadows wrapped around your legs crept up your thighs, wrapping around your waist and pulling your lower body up into the air. Blood rushed to your head before your arms were hoisted up as well, leaving you suspended and spread in the air.

Right in front of Alastor.

Your hair hung loose from your head as your neck strained to hold your head up to allow you to look down your body and into his eyes. It was impossible to look away as his large palms ran up your inner thighs, long fingers caressing you slowly as he inched forward, eyes locked on yours.

His hot breath fanned over you, making your heart beat faster in your chest. It felt like it took forever for him to inch forward and then, when the distance was closed it was far too much. Alastor’s tongue swiped up your spread folds, scooping up slick greedily as he groaned at the taste.

“And to think,” Alastor spoke while making what felt like aggressively violent eye contact, “This was yet another treat you’d been denying me.”

You moaned at his words as he turned his attention back to your cunt, spread in front of him as if it was an offering placed at an alter. His tongue was dexterous and long as it snaked into your hole, lapping at the source of your slick as if it was a dessert prepared just for him.

And perhaps it was.

The weight of your head was too much for your neck to support while distracted by the warm pleasure granted by his mouth as he sipped from the source. His nose bumped against your clit as you struggled against the shadows that held your legs and hips in the air, a sharp gasp fell from your lips before you could stop it.

Alastor hummed as he shifted his attention, tongue leaving your core empty as it sought a new target. He poked at and caressed the sensitive nub that drew such lovely gasps from your lips. Sucking and blowing, he teased the little nub every way he could think of as he studied each of your reactions, searching for the stimulation that would send you soaring under his touch.

You trembled under his touch as his hands rubbed your thighs, caressing your hips and up your back as if the black tentacle wrapped around you didn’t exist. Lightening and fear lit up your brain as you felt the flat backs of his nails run over your folds before a sharp tipped finger pushed inside.

You had no doubt that he could rip your inner walls with no effort at all.

“Trust me,” He demanded and you wanted to. Hell, you had no choice but to and yet it still took time to relax as he worked the finger inside you.

Warm lips and sharp teeth returned to your clit, making it hard to focus on the threat of his nail and not the pleasure he was drawing from you. A second deadly finger pushed inside, drawing a true moan from you that earned a chuckle from Alastor in return.

Your neck hurt from the weight of your head hanging limply. Muscles tensed and bunched as you fought to chase the stimulation. Every touch felt sharp and pushed you closer to that cliff within you.

And then there was nothing.

No fingers.

No tongue.

No touch.

Nothing.

Alastor leaned back and watched as you clenched around nothing at all, smile wide as he asked, “What do you want?”

You groaned, struggling as the shadows lowered you.

“Please?” You didn’t want to beg. Hell, you shouldn’t have to beg. It was a part of the deal. He said you could have him. In your eagerness, you had failed to iron out the details of what having him meant. His idea of giving himself to you may not have anything in common with yours, you realized with a cold shock.

“Please what?” Alastor hummed, wiping your slick from his face with the palm of the hand that hadn’t been bullying your walls.

“I want you.” Fuck it, you’d beg. How could you not when he looked at you so intently, palm hiding the smile you knew lived on his face. “Please. You said I could have you.”

“You’ve had me.” Alastor chuckled as he continued to not touch you. “You’ve had my mouth. You’ve had my fingers even! That’s more than anyone’s had in a rather long time.”

“I want-”

“You didn’t stipulate what you wanted me to give you, my darling.” Alastor grinned wider as you whined. “It appears that it’s your lucky night however!”

Alastor’s belt clinked as the shadow’s lowered you the rest of the way to the bed. He whipped the belt free from the loops with such force that it snapped as he sent it flying with a dramatic swing of his arm.

Your fingers twitched as you watched him unbutton his pants. Freeing him from his clothes was a task you wanted to see to. You wanted to indulge in the process of stripping him as bare as you were. You wanted to feel his skin under your hands as you pushed the shirt from his shoulders, as you freed his cock from the confines of his pants.

“Something the matter?” You hadn’t realized you were whining, whimpering soft pleas of ‘please’ as you watched him.

“I want to touch you.” You admitted shamelessly.

He hummed for a moment, eyes cast toward where the ceiling gave way to the illusion of a night sky before snapping down to yours, “No.”

“No?” You were sure you had to have heard him wrong. You had to have heard him wrong.

“No,” He said as if that explained everything as he pulled his straining cock from where his pants had been strangling it.

Alastor climbed over you, cock in hand as he drew his face closer to yours. Arching your back, you tried to touch him in any way you could with what little movement you could manage as he slowly stroked a dark hand along his length, thumb swiping over the red tip. Not one part of you was able to touch him.

“Please? Please, Alastor. Please?”

“You beg so prettily.” Alastor said, red eyes drowning you in a sea of fire. “Do you need me?”

“Yes.” Shame was long gone, you didn’t know her anymore.

“I should make you wait.” He threatened, kissing you softly in contrast. “I should make you long for a taste of what I can offer you as you have had the gall to do to me. I should make you mad with longing, as you did to me. I should drive you to the edges of sanity for a simple consideration, as you did to me.”

“I need you,” You begged, terrified that he would leave you unfulfilled as you had been unknowingly doing to him. You whimpered it with ever accusation, a pea of need and a longing for mercy.

God, what did his words mean? You hadn’t intended to do that to him. Fuck, you couldn’t even begin to say how you had done it. How had you captured his gaze? His attention? His longing?

His words sounded dangerously close to obsession.

“Good,” He said, grinning down at you.

“I want to see you,” A gasp slipped from you as he ran the head of his cock along your slit, head of his cock bulling your clit as he swiped up, coating himself in slick with each pass.

“You are seeing me,” Alastor knew damn well what you meant, “You’re seeing as much of me as you need to.”

“I want more,” Tears gathered in your eyes and one had the audacity to trace a path slowly down your face.

“No,” Leaning into you, he licked up the salty trail from your face as he pushed himself inside painfully slowly. The feeling of his soft tongue on your face contrasted with the silky steel of his cock as he inched deeper and deeper inside.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. There was no teasing. Alastor didn’t hesitate or pause to see how much of him your smaller body could take.

He simply kept pushing forward even as he grinned down at you, demanding you take all of him. You moaned, arching as he filled you, stretching to try and somehow make room for his considerable length as pain tinged the pleasure. Your teeth bit at your lip as you tried to choke off the sound of your whimpered moans.

You wanted more contact. You needed it. Yet there was nothing you could do to obtain anymore. The only point of contact between you and Alastor was his cock pushing inside one inch at a time.

He was long and thick, not overly so but fitting his body well. That worried you. His body was larger than yours by a good amount and that looked perfectly reasonable on him felt monstrous inside you.

Tentacles shifted, pulling your body taught as you neared the end of what you thought you could take. He kept giving though until his hips kissed your body and a delicious pain tinged the stretch.

“Good girl,” Alastor praised, smile tight. “I knew you could take all of me,” He said as if he had given you a choice.

He bumped his hips against yours hard, taking delight in the moan that fell from your lips at the harsh nudge of his head against your cervix. Pulling out just as slowly as he had pushed in, you squirmed as you tried to get more.

He paused, head just kissing your soaked opening and admired the shine of your slick coating him. It was a mess and he found the way it spread onto his trousers to be distasteful but that was alright, for now. They could be cleaned.

“So needy,” He mused as he leaned over you again, bracing for a moment before slamming into you only to pause, fully seated in your warmth.

“Am I touching you enough yet?” Alastor loomed over you again, fucking you and yet not.

“More,” You wanted to scream from the frustration.

“I’ve got you stretched around me,” He pulled out slowly as he spoke, only to once again harshly slam his way home. “So tightly. There’s nowhere I am not reaching.”

He was right but still, you begged for more.

“So greedy,” Alastor tsked in mock disappointment as he fell into a slow rhythm.

Shadows lifted your hips as he rose up onto his knees, changing the angle of his trusts. Strong hands wrapped around your hips as he picked up his pace, each thrust punctuated with the harsh slam of his hips into you.

“Are you happy now?” He teased, running his hands along your sides as he fucked into you still too slowly. “I’m touching you more.”

More. You wanted more. You needed more.

“Well?” His eyes burned into you. “Use your pretty little words and tell me.”

“More?” You wanted to hate how pathetic you sounded, whining for more of his touch, to be granted more pleasure by him but you couldn’t manage to draw the shame to the surface.

“More?” Alastor laughed, his body shifting to fold over you as he blocked out your view of the ceiling, not that you’d been able to take your eyes from him for more then fleeting moments. “More what?”

“More touch,” You moaned as he thrust into you harder. “Please, touch me more. Let me,”

Alastor’s shadows let go of your legs and hips. He thrust into you as your hips fell to the bed with the force of his hips hitting yours. You struggled against the shadows around your wrists but gained no ground there.

At least your legs had been freed. You ran them up and down his hips and legs. It was maddening how good it felt to feel him under the smoothe fabric of his trousers. Greedy, that’s what you knew he’d call you as you squeezed at his hips with your thighs, trying to expose some more of him, desperate for the feel of his skin.

“You are a naughty one, aren’t you?” Alastor leaned back and wrapped one of your thighs in his strong hand.

As if it took no effort at all, he pulled your leg up to stretch up his torso, ankle hooking over his shoulder near his neck. You could feel the flex of his muscles with each thrust.

He allowed his grip on your thigh to slacken as he pulled from you, cock dragging against your walls each time. His hand not clutching your leg rested on your abdomen and fuck, you could feel the pressure of his hand from inside with each thrust.

“Greedy little doll,” Alastor ran his tongue along your calf as he pushed harder down against your soft body.

The pressure made every punishing thrust of his cock into you all the more intense. Your arms hurt from how they were stretched out over your head, joints pulled tight every time he pulled you to match his thrusts.

“I give you an ounce of freedom and what do you do with it?” Teeth scraped against your calf, “You try to take more even as I’m giving your cunt exactly what you need.”

“Need,” You parroted the only word that made sense to you as he drove you closer to the edge. “Need to touch you. Need more.”

“I’ll give you more,” Alastor’s teeth sank into your calf, cutting deep.

Oh, that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. You should have been screaming out in pain as blood gushed into Alastor’s mouth, spilling from the corners as he drank greedily from the wound.

You didn’t scream though. No, what came spilling from your lips pulled Alastor’s into a bloody smile, smearing red against your skin.

Ultimately, it was the look in his eyes and your blood on his lips that pushed you to the edge of the cliff. You were so wet. The sound of wet squelching was the music your moans sang along to.

Alastor groaned, adding his voice to the chorus of carnal music your bodies danced to. Slapping skin was the beat he played your body to and now, the greatest part of your song was approaching.

“Alastor,” His name was stuttered, broken as it fell from your mouth and oh, how he liked the way that sounded as you repeated it.

“Yes?” He looked down at you with eyes that you would have sworn was lit from within. You couldn’t look away, “You’re close, I can feel you.”

Red eyes. Blood smeared lips. His hand pushed harder into you, ensuring the head of his cock bullied your sweet spot with each sharp thrust in. The bed creaked under you with the increasing force of his thrusts.

“Didn’t I tell you?” He chuckled, “That I’d give you exactly what you need? I’d touch you, just how you need to come undone on my cock?”

“Oh fuck,” You struggled to keep focus anywhere. Your eyes roamed him, hardly under your control. Red lips. Bloodstained hand gripping your thigh, nails cutting trails you didn’t even feel as you were driven closer and closer to the edge.

“What do you need?” He said, filter flickering in and out of his voice as static grew around you. If asked, you’d say the static was caressing your skin though how that was possible, you’d have no idea.

“You,” He felt so good, it was hard to think.

“Fuck,” you pulled against the shadows as he laughed at you.

“Need to touch,” You begged as static seemed to rise and fall around you with every brutal thrust. “Please. Please, Al- Alastor, Please. I want to, I need to touch you. Please.”

Tears were falling from your eyes, sparkling in the dim light of the room as Alastor leaned in, pushing your leg toward your chest. He reached deeper with each of his thrusts now, the head of his cock bullying your cervix harshly.

Blood dripped onto your chest from the wound on your calf but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. He was so close now, folding you in half. You could feel the warmth of his body, so close and yet you could only touch him how he allowed, where he pressed his body into you.

“I suppose,” He said after a hum, broken by nearly inaudible groan as your core fluttered around him with promise, “Since you’ve begged so prettily.”

The shadows around your body dematerialized, turning to smoke as your arms sagged. The joints ached, from wrist to shoulder, it felt like they creaked as they moved. Yet you didn’t hesitate for a moment as your palms went to his arms.

Strong arms covered in well worn, soft fabric supported him. The muscles hidden from view felt strong as steel under your touch.

“Is that what you wanted?” Alastor’s face was so close to yours now, you were drowning in him.

“Yes, God, yes.” Close. You were so close now. His chest was firm and you wanted so badly to slip the buttons free. The idea of exposing more of him alone was near enough to send you feral, not that you had enough space or power to act on it.

“I am your God here.” Blasphemous words fell from his blood tinged lips. “I am your God now. Only me.”

He shifted his weight to one arm, large palm freed to run up your chest, smearing the spilled blood, only to wrap frighteningly tight around your throat. This shouldn’t turn you on as much as it did. The moan that spilled from your lips felt like it was born in your core, the sound rich and deep.

“Say it.” He shifted, rubbing his pubic bone and the hair that cushioned his cock against your clit, providing stimulation that had been missing for so long. “Say it and I’ll let you cum undone on my cock. Say it and I’ll give you the privilege of touching me while I...”

Radio filter dropped in and out as he spoke, each dip in the filter was met with a caressing rise of the static, as if to try and distract you from the sound of his naked voice.

“Oh my G-” You choked the word off even as his hand tightened around your throat. “Fuck, Alastor.”

Lips kissed your shoulder as he leaned into you more, folding you even tighter. Sharp nips and soft kisses traced your jaw, just above where his fingers gripped.

“Again,” He demanded, nipping your jaw as you tightened around him, dancing on the edge of a loaded spring.

You ran your hands up his chest, along his shoulders as he demanded you say his name, that you call him a God. You held onto his shoulder for dear life- dear afterlife? Fuck, you couldn’t think.

Finally, as your hand trailed up the back of his neck, you were rewarded with the feeling of skin under your hand. Soft skin burned under your fingers. The short hairs of his undercut were soft under your finger tips.

“Please, Alastor. Fuck, my god. You, you’re my god. Whatever you want. Please, please.”

You hadn’t expected him to kiss you but he cut your pleas off with his lips. He fucked you hard and fast, pounding you into the mattress without mercy as you tasted your blood on his tongue.

Each time his hips slammed into you, he ground himself into your clit.

“Mine,” He whispered as a perfectly placed thrust sent you flying off the cliff.

You moaned deeply as you fluttered around him. Your legs pushed against the immovable wall that was Alastor as his name fell from your lips in a unholy prayer.

“Mine.” He said again, voice naked as his power swelled around him. Shadows danced. Static swelled as dim lights flickered then died, leaving them cast in firelight alone.

You could feel him twitch inside you as he slammed home with such force as to knock the air right out of your lungs. His grip flexed around your neck as he bit down on your lip, spilling blood into your mouth that he eagerly lapped up.

“Mine,” He whispered, a look you could only describe as insane dancing in his eyes as he looked down at you. You struggled to take a breath as he twitched, the last spurts of his seed deposited deep inside of you.

You gasped his name as he licked up the trail of blood that had run down your lip and jaw.

“Mine and, ma chérie-” He said again. For the first time, true fear that you had made a deadly mistake in your hasty deal, “I do not share.”

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @the-shark-named-sharon, @intensityofchaos, @xalygator, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @chibistar45

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor smut

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childrenofcain-if · 18 days ago

Note

Oh my beautiful British royal M 😭 I love them so much, they've become one of my favourite Ros of all time ❤️

With my MC being an idiot sandwich (Gordon Ramsay hates to see them coming) of a cook, would M still appreciate the horrible dishes we cook for them 🥺

you woke up slowly, the world filtering in through the haze of sleep. a pale, golden light trickled in through the slatted blinds, painting the room in streaks of honey and shadow.

the first thing you noticed was warmth—the steady, undisturbed heat of another body beside yours. then came the sound: the faint rustle of sheets, the thrum of a radiator doing its best against the january chill. finally, your eyes fluttered open, and there they were.

M, still tangled in their dreams.

they laid on their side, their face half-buried in the pillow, their lips slightly parted in the vulnerability of sleep. you let your gaze wander, drinking in the details as though you were committing them to memory for some far-off day when their face might only exist in the corners of your mind.

their tawny brown skin glowed faintly in the morning light, warm and inviting as a hearth fire. thick brows arched naturally, perfectly framing their face, softening their otherwise regal features. long lashes, dark as ink, cast tiny shadows against their high cheekbones, delicate crescents that you found yourself wanting to trace with your fingertip. and their hair—oh, their hair: silky black even in their sleep, it spilled across the pillow in soft waves, catching the light in a way that made you think of ocean waters at midnight.

you couldn’t help but stare. how could you not? M, always so poised, so impossibly polished, looked achingly human like this. even now, with sleep slackening the angles of their jaw, the curve of their mouth, they carried a quiet elegance.

your gaze lingered on the faint rise and fall of their chest, the way their lips parted just slightly with each breath. it was a rare, unguarded moment, and you let yourself marvel at it, at them.

eventually, though, the tug of wanting to do something nice for your royal partner grew stronger than your desire to stay still. with a quiet sigh, you slipped out from under the covers, careful not to jostle the bed. M stirred slightly, their brow furrowing for a moment before smoothing again as sleep reclaimed them.

the air was warm against your skin from the radiator as you padded barefoot across the floor, your eyes drawn to the details of their space.

philosophy dominated the collection on their shelves—aristotle, nietzsche, kant—but there were other titles too on history and poetry. a worn copy of ‘pride and prejudice,’ bookmarks riddling a lot of its pages. a cookbook with smudged pages and handwritten notes in the margins.

a stack of notebooks, their spines worn with use, sat on the desk by the window. you could imagine M bent over them, their umber brown eyes focused, their hand moving in careful strokes as they wrote in their cursive handwriting.

your gaze fell on a framed photograph perched on the right side of the desk, and you picked it up, smiling softly at the image. it was a family portrait of the whitlock-singhs.

their mother, crown princess victoria, stood at the center, her regal bearing softened by the warmth in her eyes. beside her was ranveer, M’s father, his hand resting on her shoulder, his smile wide and infectious. on either side of them were charlotte, M’s older sister, her chin tilted with confidence, and jesse, the youngest sibling, grinning like they held a secret.

and there, in the middle, was M, caught grinning almost as wide as jesse. it was a side of them you rarely saw—a pure, unfiltered joy that made the corner of your lips lift even more.

you then set the photograph back down and tiptoed toward the dorm’s attached bathroom.

it was colder in here, and you shivered as you splashed water on your face, brushing your teeth with one of the extra toothbrush M had stashed under the sink just for you. you found yourself almost laughing to yourself at the sight before you hushed up since you didn’t want M to wake up.

when you returned to the dorm room, M was still asleep, their form barely stirring beneath the covers. you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should slip back into bed, but you knew that this was probably the only rare one of times you’d wake up earlier than them and you just had to make breakfast for your partner this once.

the kitchen of the suite was as pristine as the rest of the dorm, its sleek countertops and gleaming appliances untouched by the impending doom you were about to unleash on them.

you opened the pantry, your fingers brushing against cans of soup, bags of rice, and then there it was: a can of baked beans.

yes, you were about to make the quintessentially british breakfast classic: beans on toast.

you’d noticed the recurring dish, of course, tucked on their plate in the dining hall during mornings despite their protests that they “absolutely do not like it that much.” but the familiarity in the way they ate it, the subtle contentment, had not escaped you.

you knew better. you knew them better.

you gathered the ingredients quickly: bread, beans, butter, some spices. then, on a whim, you searched the cupboards for tea leaves.

you remembered M’s story—how their father, ranveer, used to make masala chai on cold mornings, filling their paternal home in birmingham with the scent of spices and steam. it seemed like the kind of thing that would definitely be a good start to the day.

the kitchen was soon alive with sound and motion—the clatter of pots, the soft scrape of a knife as you buttered bread. you followed a recipe on your phone for the masala chai, measuring out spices before that quickly gave way to guesswork. cinnamon sticks, cardamom pods, ginger.

but it turns out, you’d find ways to reach a newer low with your culinary skills—or the lack thereof.

you misjudged the measurements, poured too much milk, and somehow managed to spill the cinnamon sticks across the counter. the scent of cardamom then filled the air, mixing with the faintly burnt smell of beans you’d left unattended.

the chai boiled over, spilling onto the stovetop in a hiss of steam. you scrambled to clean it up, only to knock over the box of sugar in your haste. the bread, forgotten in the toaster, began to blacken, smoke curling up in ominous spirals.

by the time you finished, the kitchen looked like it had survived two world wars and a great depression. the fire alarm went off in a sudden, piercing wail, shattering the morning quiet. you froze, your heart leaping into your throat as the kitchen filled with a thin haze of smoke because of the charred bread.

before you could do anything, M burst into the room, half-dressed and disheveled, clutching a fire extinguisher like they’d just woken up from a dream where they were a firefighter.

“what the bloody hell is going on?” they demanded, their accent even more prominent in their panic.

you held out the plate of completely burnt beans on toast with a sheepish grin. “breakfast?”

their gaze shifted from the plate to the mess behind you—the scorched pot, the spilled sugar, the faintly smoking toaster. they arched a brow, their lips twitching as though they were trying really hard to look exasperated as they set the fire extinguisher down.

they wordlessly moved to turn off the stove with a practiced ease. they then waved a dish towel at the smoke detector until it stopped its shrieking before turning to you.

M stared at you for a long moment, then let out a breathless laugh, the sound both incredulous and amused. “you almost burned the place down trying to make beans on toast?”

“and masala chai,” you mumbled.

they shook their head, running a hand through their dark hair to make it a little less dishevelled. “you’re an absolute menace, love.”

but there was a softness in their eyes, an amused smile tugging at the corners of their mouth.

the charred remnants of your attempted breakfast lay discarded in the trash bin. M had asked you to clean everything up while they freshened up in the bathroom, and you had complied happily as you did not want to lay your sights on the bioweapon you’d created.

when M re-entered the kitchen, they looked slightly more composed, though still half-dressed, their dark hair damp from a quick rinse, and their face glowing with renewed energy.

but even like this—rumpled and unfinished—they looked like they’d stepped straight out of a portrait.

you, on the other hand, with your flour-dusted hands and the faint smell of singed toast clinging to your clothes, felt more like the before picture in one of those ‘before and after’ glow-up makeover shows.

“right,” M said, surveying the semi-clean kitchen with a raised brow. they rolled up the sleeves of their ralph lauren ivory quarter-zip, revealing forearms you definitely didn’t stare at for longer than a second. “let’s salvage this. i’m teaching you how to cook.”

“do i have a choice?” you muttered, your lips tugging into a reluctant smile.

“not if you plan to survive in this kitchen unsupervised,” they replied dryly.

M wasn’t just good at cooking—they were extraordinary at teaching. they explained things with a clarity that no cookbook or youtube tutorial could ever achieve. their movements were precise, graceful, like choreography, and you tried—emphasis on the ‘tried’—to mimic them. but for every moment of triumph, there were at least three close calls where M had to swoop in to save you from some imminent disaster.

they caught you when you tried to add oil to a pan that was already too hot, yanking the handle out of your hand just before the smoke billowing from it could turn into an inferno. they stopped you from using a knife incorrectly—“oh my days, don’t hold it like that unless you want to lose a finger or two”—and gently redirected your attempts to measure spices with a far more practiced hand.

“this,” they said, holding up a spice jar, “is cumin. you don’t just throw it in like it’s fairy dust. measure it. smell it. taste it if you must. but don’t—” they caught your hand mid-shake, their fingers wrapping around your wrist—“dump it all in like you’re salting a driveway.”

their touch remained a moment longer than necessary, their fingers warm against your skin. you tried to focus on the lesson, nodding shakily as they released you and went back to demonstrating.

despite their guidance, there were still mishaps. a nearly burnt slice of bread here, an accidental poke at yourself from the knife there. each mistake was met with a sigh and a gentle correction, M’s patience never wavering.

by the time you finished, the final product was… well, ‘edible’ felt like a stretch, but it was at least recognizable as food. the toast was unevenly browned, the beans slightly overcooked, but the chai, thankfully, had turned out well—mostly because M had taken over halfway through.

M stood back, surveying the meal with a critical eye.

“you know,” they said, “i never thought teaching you how to cook would be this hard. you’re good at everything else—what happened here?”

you shrugged, a little embarrassed, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “never had to cook growing up. we had private chefs for that. i didn’t exactly have it as a priority either since i was mostly focusing on my academics and extracurriculars.”

their lips quirked upward, amusement lighting their features. “that explains it. well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

you groaned, leaning against the counter. “what if all my cooking ends up like this? what if i accidentally poison someone? or worse, what if it’s so bad that even pigs won’t eat it?”

how could that be possibly worse than poisoning someone, M didn’t ask. they simply chuckled, shaking their head. then, before you could react, they stepped closer, brushing the edge of your lip with their thumb. it took you a moment to realize they were wiping away a smudge of burnt toast that you had to taste test, their touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

their umber brown gaze met yours, encouraging and affectionate, and when they smiled, it felt like the first sip of tea on a cold morning—comforting, slow, and impossibly warm.

“if it comes to that,” they assured, their voice low enough that it felt like the words were meant to be tucked away in the most intimate corner of your heart, “i’ll cook for you every day. if that’s what you’d like.”

your face burned, a wave of heat surging from your chest to your ears. in all the time that you’ve been alive, no one had ever said something like that to you before. you tried to muster a response, but all you managed was a nod and a small smile that you were sure looked ridiculous to an outsider looking onto the scene.

“um… thanks,” you mumbled, your voice small as you tried not to propose marriage to them right then and there.

they laughed softly, stepping back to set the table. “come on, let’s see if this breakfast of yours is as bad as you think.”

finally, the two of you sat down to eat. the product of your combined efforts sat between you—a plate of beans on toast that looked... decent enough, you suppose. the masala chai was the star of the show, thanks to M.

overall, the food wasn’t great, but it didn’t look like it’d immediately give you indigestion either—a victory, considering your earlier disaster.

you took a bite, only to wince at how bland it was.

“i swear i put spices in,” you muttered, poking at the toast with your fork as though it might reveal where all the seasonings went to hide under scrutiny.

M, to your utter shock, ate the meal without a single complaint. this was particularly astonishing given their well-documented distaste for most americanised version of indian or british food.

they always had something to say about the lack of proper seasoning, the over-reliance on processed ingredients. but now, here they were, eating your lackluster beans on toast with all the enthusiasm of someone dining at a michelin-star restaurant.

“not bad,” they said finally, setting down their fork.

you stared at them in disbelief. “you’re lying. it’s terrible. come on, you can be honest.”

“the fact that you even tried to make breakfast for me is more than enough,” they said as they leaned back on their chair. “yes, your culinary skills leave much to be desired, and no, i don’t think anybody is going to let you within ten feet of a restaurant kitchen anytime soon, but...” their smile softened, their eyes crinkling at the corners. “if all my meals were made with this much love, i’d eat whatever you make for me every day, meri jaan.”

you stared at them, your chest tight, your heart tripping over itself in an unsteady rhythm. the sincerity in their voice, the way they looked at you like you were something so precious to them—god, it was almost too much.

“though,” they added, a playful glint returning to their eyes, “i’ll definitely have to help you season the food next time. for both our sakes.”

you laughed, the sound breaking the moment’s intensity but not diminishing its warmth. and as you sat there, the morning sunlight streaming through the window, M across from you, their smile brighter than anything else in the room, you couldn’t help but think that maybe almost burning down the kitchen was worth it after all.

#MC doesn’t need their power to kill someone #they can simply give them a homecooked meal to eat 😋#M being a champ while keeping down whatever abomination MC made #i love them your honor #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip #ro: m whitlock singh #ro scenarios

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screaminglygay · 3 months ago

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KINKTOBER (day 8)

pairing: kate bishop x fem! reader - masturbation

summary: you find it impossible to hide just how much kate affects you in a black suit

warnings: teasing, masturbation, reader getting caught

wordcount: 1.2k

an: what can i say? im a sucker for women in suits.

Kate glances up from her phone, waiting for the elevator, her fingers tapping impatiently against the sleek glass screen. She’s in a black suit, expertly tailored to fit every angle and line of her frame, with a crisp white shirt peeking out from beneath a black tie. The image of her standing there, focused and effortlessly powerful, hits you like a train. You blink, trying to process the pure presence she commands, looking every bit the CEO in charge of Bishop Security.

“Hey, you okay?” Kate’s voice is light, but there’s a glint in her eyes as she takes you in, noticing the way your gaze has frozen on her. She lets her mouth curl into a small, knowing smile, which only makes the effect more dangerous. “See something you like?”

You feel your face heat up, stumbling over your words as she saunters over, her confidence radiating from each precise step.

“You, uh… I didn’t realize you’d be… dressing up,” you manage, not quite able to find a safe spot for your eyes.

“Oh, this old thing?” she teases. Her eyes stay locked on yours, though, watching with satisfaction as you fumble with your composure. “Just a little something to help seal the deal. I mean, the deal isn’t technically with you, but I’m glad to know I’ve got a captive audience.”

“Kate…” you stammer, “you look—”

“Unbelievably handsome?” she offers, arching an eyebrow, leaning close enough that her cologne, a smooth, warm scent, wraps around you. She studies you, letting the silence stretch just enough to make your heart race before she chuckles. “I know.”

The elevator dings behind her, and she spares it a glance but makes no move to leave, clearly savoring your flustered state. She leans in a little closer, her hand lifting to straighten her tie as she whispers, “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone. I promise I’ll be back to make it up to you.”

Before you can respond, she winks, letting her fingers trail lightly over your arm as she steps back. The elevator doors open, and she shoots you one last smirk as she steps inside.

You attempt to go back to the book you’d left on the coffee table, sinking into the soft cushions with a sigh. This activity is usually calming, grounding—but today, every few sentences blur together, Kate's smirk slipping into the words, the memory of her suit and tie replacing any character in the story.

You try to shake it off, flipping a few more pages in a desperate attempt to focus. But your mind keeps drifting back to Kate in that damn suit, the way her confidence and charm seemed to make every line of fabric a little sharper, more intoxicating. The image of her adjusting her tie lingers vividly, and you can practically feel the warmth of her gaze from earlier, the smirk she had when she’d noticed your reaction.

Sighing, you close the book and set it aside. There’s no use pretending. She’s left you with an ache... a huge one that keeps bringing her back into your thoughts. You could practically feel her presence here with you, like the faint hint of her cologne still in the air, lingering just to remind you of what you’re missing.

You can still hear her words, every casual “See something you like?” and “Try not to miss me too much.” A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the glint in her eyes, how she seemed to take absolute pleasure in watching you unravel.

With another sigh, you reach for your phone, typing out a quick message.

You left a mess of my concentration, Bishop.

The text sends, and for a few minutes, you wonder if she’s too caught up in business to respond. But then your phone vibrates, and her reply lights up the screen.

Good. That’s exactly where I want to be, right in the middle of your thoughts.

Your heart skips, and there’s no mistaking the smirk that spreads across your face as you read it, a perfect echo of hers from earlier.

Be good, I´ll be home soon. xx

Your phone buzzes once again as Kate adds to her message. There’s a gentle rush of heat creeping up your cheeks, a fuzzy warmth pooling between your thighs. Be good. The words echo, soft and teasing, and you find yourself replaying them over and over.

It’s ridiculous, really, how much effect one message has on you. But that’s Kate - she’s somehow wrapped herself around your every thought without even trying. Now, every tick of the clock feels heavier, reminding you of how much you’re waiting for her to come back, and how much you want to be under her right now.

You lie back, letting your hands go just where you need them the most. Hoping she will be back soon, but you can´t wait, she made you this desperate... so if anything, it´s her fault.

As your fingers dips into your wet core, you chuckle a bit. If Kate was here, she would be making fun of you, because as always, you´re just so easy to turn on.

Your clit is already swollen and you just need more.

Did a few words on your phone and a suit made you this wet?

You can hear Kate´s voice in your head, which makes you go even crazier. You really need her to come as soon as possible, another thing you have in common. Oh how she looked in that god damn suit, fitting just perfectly on her. And then there were her hands, strong, veined, and dotted with a few silver rings that makes you go wild. Those hands... you need her hands. Yours are not enough.

Fuck.

Playing with your clit feels like you are not touching yourself at all. Why does her touch feels so amazing, but yours doesn´t? You push three fingers inside of yourself, bucking up your hips to cross your finish line. Desperate. Another words you can hear clearly in your head.

Yes, you are desperate. For her. All the time. But can anyone blame you?

Just as you sink into the intensity of the moment, you hear a low, unmistakable throat clearing. Your heart stutters, and there she is, leaning in the doorway with her signature smirk, her hands casually tucked in her pockets, and a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Well, well," she drawls, her gaze taking you in shamelessly, "I should have business meetings more often if this is the sight I'm gonna come home to every time." Her eyes darken, a teasing edge to her smirk as she steps closer.

“I- I…uh, sorry. I just…you just looked very… good. And um... I couldn´t really help myself.” Your voice falters, face flushed as her grin only grows wider.

"Thank you, darling," she murmurs, her tone low and smooth, "but don’t let me interrupt. Go on…” Her gaze drops over you, clearly enjoying every bit of the effect she’s having. “Seems like you were in the middle of something important."

The playful lift in her brow and the way her lips quirk in that smug grin make it impossible to tear your gaze away. You know she’s loving this, savoring every second of your flustered expression. And she’s not going to let you off easy... not now, not with the way she’s eyeing you like you’re a piece of meat she’s ready to get her hands on.

Thank you for reading once again!:P

#adele writes #marvel fanfiction #marvel universe #marvel fanfic #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x you #kinktober2024

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thatfrailsoul · 5 months ago

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– Nourishing your soul, treasuring your bonds

tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )

("Sleeping Beauty in the Wood", Maxfield Parrish)

It is already challenging enough to find within ourselves the courage to be who we want, who we truly are... Enough to assume that once done that - there is nothing, no one, else to worry about... And yet here you are. Pressured by this doubt that you shouldn't have in the first place. The one that choosing your own self - your goal, desires, your needs - might be not right for you, or even worse... not aligned with the path of your loved ones.

So... are you doing the right thing by choosing yourself? Will the ones you cherish understand and help you with this journey? Will your paths still remain aligned, side by side? Can you really do this for yourself, without being forced to say to them goodby?

Slow down for a moment. Breathe. Listen to your heart, to its rhythm. Allow it to speak to you. And choose the image that seems so familiar, calling so strongly your heart. Remembering that, whatever the message might be, you are free to listen to it or to let go. Without the need to make it fit. Because your true answer will always find you, the moment you will be really ready and will have the need.

A little message to the beautiful soul that requested this reading: Your questions truly moved me. I felt them deep down, as I too asked myself the same things so many times... So I wanted to do my best by looking closely at each question on your mind. It will be a slightly long reading... But I hope that it will give you the clarity that you are trying to find.

– Pile One,

three of swords, six of cups, the hermit

When we are growing, feeling the real change in ourselves, in the parts of us that for so long we didn't take care of and forgot... It is inevitable to feel more deeply, to see things that we never noticed before. In the world around us. In our life. In the people by our side. It is inevitable to, suddenly, feel resistance, perhaps judgment from some and even concern from others... Exactly in those things and actions that are so connected to us feeling better, stronger, more confident about what we deserve and who we are...

And it's confusing, you know. First comes the hurt and frustration, of doing all this work but not being seen, congratulated, appreciated for the new aura radiating from us and that makes us so proud. Almost like they don't like and don't want the better version of us... Then comes in the doubt and fear that it is the truth. That what you know for sure is the best thing for you... It's something that is so inconvenient for them. That perhaps, unconsciously, you once again became fond of people that were just so good at wearing a mask. Hiding underneath their true them, that is so different from who you want by your side and who you want to become.

And all of these doubts and convictions are so overwhelming for your mind. The only place where you have the courage to think about it, to consider, to try to find a solution... Because just speaking up and asking them about it out loud... feels so risky, so dangerous. Something that will be the end of a bond that perhaps is completely fine, and that you are complicating on your own in your mind.

But the thing is... Although we can indeed sometimes misunderstand one intention for another, through their actions or their words... There are only so many times that you can wrongly read the room or their tone while they are speaking their mind. Even if you convince yourself that sometimes you are a little too defensive or feeling a little "too much"... you are not naive. You are not completely new to this world. You already had these doubts, these uneasy feelings, these intuitions or fears about those by your side. It's not the first time that you are being supported on your decisions or journeys, and in the same way it's not the first time that you discover that someone is not in fact your "ride or die".

And this exact fact that it is not the first time, of fearing to need to let go of someone, being so affectionate but at the same time aware that you are for some reason not aligned, makes it all so incredibly hard... that you wander if perhaps making a step back and leaving the things the way they were, might be better than creating so many changes and chaos in your life.

But you are doing the right thing, you really and truly do. You didn't go so far, found this strength and courage, to doubt this journey now. Now that you are already halfway through it. So close to the finishing line. You didn't go through all of this for yourself, to ask then if everything will be fine, if they will in the end understand, accept the new you and stay... When what you truly want and are afraid to know is if you indeed need to let go of them as you are feeling now. If you need to leave behind those that judge so much who you are becoming, already hurting a version of you that is still so new, even if it will hurt so much your heart.

You already know all of this deep down, that it might indeed be the necessary thing to do. And you are also aware of the fact that you don't really want to do it, to choose between you and them, losing one or another, not being able to maintain both. You remember how difficult it is, feeling, being alone. And it only complicates everything. A decision that you are not able to make because both options see you suffering, because of others or of the void left in the place where they used to be.

So... Let me rephrase it a little for you: do you really want to need to justify your decisions or who you are, constantly defending yourself from those that should support and appreciate you and your life? Are you really ready for a constant battle with those by your side?

Because, are you doing the right thing by choosing yourself or not, is not even a question that should cross your mind. You are on the right path. You are doing the right thing. You are doing just fine. You are actually making the most important steps in manifesting on your own that life that you want to experience and enjoy. Starting from you. And through you - with those around you.

And this moment of resistance, this moment of you seeing so much difference between you and others in your life, it's not a way of the Universe to tell you that you are making the wrong decision, becoming too different and less relevant or appealing to those that you want with you. But it's rather a way to make you understand that not everyone can or needs to stay here for a lifetime. Not everyone can be satisfied and completely aligned with what you have in mind. And if there is a right way to choose who to have by your side... well it's for sure by sharing your feellings and thoughts, your desires and intentions, openly. Seeing who feels excited for you, who is proud of you and understands... Or who is feeling hurt, only because for once you are prioritizing your own self and what is the best for your life.

We indeed are, at some extent, the people that we have by our side. They influence us in how they treat us, their opinions, their convictions in which we start to believe too. They form you, consciously or not, through the ways they support you or judge you, limiting your decisions or your steps.

So don't hide in your mind for the sake of others. Don't try to analyse or understand all on your own. Looking for a solution to make everyone happy and satisfied. Think only about yourself now, exactly like this journey requires. Follow your own plan and path. And allow others to be themselves, like you are the true you now. Even if it means that your paths will go different ways. Because no matter how sad or difficult, it is still fine. To be different and to live different lives.

And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

– Pile Two,

the four of cups, the eight of coins, the ten of cups

Look at you - you are just blooming. With all the courage and strength that you've found to finally and truly take care of yourself. To nourish your soul, make it smile and feel free and alive. You got through so much, through so many new and uncomfortable steps. You faced and made peace with so many parts of you that were consuming you, filling you with anger, fear and despair...

You did it. You truly did. But you managed to do so by hiding yourself. Creating that safe space away from everyone. From their opinions, "advices" regarding your life and how you should make it through. From all the people that talked so much, but so rarely listened to you. Becoming for yourself, on your own, the closest and dearest person by your side. The one that you can truly trust your heart with, the one that can so gently calm your mind. You connected to yourself so deeply, finding so much within yourself... that you don't really feel the need to have someone else. Especially those that remained their old self, not changing even a bit in this time that you spent by yourself.

And now that you "came back", felt strong and confident enough to meet them once again... The difference between you, the moments of silence or of the conflicts, were just too loud. And where before you felt uncomfortable, you just started feeling completely out of place now. Seeing only strangers in a life that is supposedly full of people, so many of them by your side.

But there is a thing about you... About how you don't really accept the idea of giving up, of considering something, someone, a lost cause. You didn't do it for yourself, demonstrating how much a person can change, grow and start to shine again. And you don't want to do it for them, for those that... You really do want to see one day understanding you, the way you see and feel this world, perhaps finally appreciating you, cherishing you the same way you learned to do it with your own self and them too.

And you can really do it. You can really see this change in them one day, even if now it seems so impossible to find a way to speak to them more deeply, enough to touch their soul and give them a new goal, a new hope. It will happen. It is already happening now. Because of you.

With your courage, or despair, in finding your true self, in taking care of yourself, you unconsciously created an example. You demonstrated silently that there is no need to suffer and be pressured by a version of you that just doesn't fit you so well anymore. You showed that, although something so new and perhaps complicated at first to do - it is so worth it. To open up. To your own self and to others. To this life, the things that it always teaches us, but that we sometimes are not so ready to learn and make ours.

You created something so beautiful, by simply choosing yourself no matter what. Like a little seed that you hid in their subconscious mind, it started to grow, manifesting itself in their actions and decisions. That for once started to be for themselves, for their good, for their safety and wellbeing. Unlocking a new version of them, that sees so much more now in their life and their bonds. Cherishing every moment more.

It might not be something that you can see already now, not when it is something so little, that even they are only now starting to notice and appreciate more... And not everyone will bloom and grow... But those that will, they will surprise you so profoundly, they will surprise themselves. In seeing how much your paths evolved and changed, aligning themselves even though you both started to feel like it is time to let each other go.

You will rediscover each other, get to know again so many people that you were convinced to already know, finding out how actually similar, closer your hearts are. But... Just give it time. Be patient, the same way you were with yourself and the journey that you were on all this time. They are growing too, they are changing, and it is something that goes so differently for every person, that requires a different rhythm and pace from perhaps the ones that were comfortable and right for your soul.

Don't worry about it, everything will be fine. Continue to focus on yourself, on protecting your new boundaries and expressing your new ideas and passions. Gently, sweetly, exactly like the way you are. Radiating your beautiful light, and showing others a way to find their own right path.

And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

– Pile Three,

the knight of cups, the king of swords and the six of coins

When we start to strive for more, to have this deep need for a change, for a better life and us... It is sometimes almost impossible to not be overwhelmed with all that motivation and energy. With that desire to do everything at once, making progress as fast as possible and being finally able to enjoy this better life.

It is so difficult to not get caught up in all of this... That sometimes this incredible glow around your soul that grows so beautifully - just starts to blind your own eyes and mind. Making you see - where at first there was so much enthusiasm, motivation, exciting new steps - just so many more sacrifices and things to do. Just for a chance to live well and feel good.

And it just drags you back down. In that discouragement and tiredness, in that doubt of really being ready to start this journey. Of wanting it truly at all. And while you fall back in this spiral, in this paralysis of not knowing what is best or worse, if to need to work for a new life enduring again all those challenges and battles... Or to continue this one even though it just doesn't speak anymore to your soul... In all of this your mind is just working too much. Day after day, doubt after doubt, making you forget a little but important detail: you don't need to do it all alone.

Yes it was you idea, yes it is indeed your story, your life that you are doing all of this for... But a journey is not always so limited to only one soul. It is not always meant to be faced on your own. But you assumed it, too caught up in these emotions that a start of a new journey filled your heart. You isolated yourself, hid yourself from this life that doesn't suit you anymore, and from the people around you that just didn't felt aligned. You hid yourself, and started to create everything from scratch on your own. Facing so many new things and questions that you never considered before. Refusing to ask for help, to have opinions of others, because you knew for sure that the same way they never understood they won't do it now too... You convinced yourself of this. Taking away from you perhaps one of the most powerful and beautiful details of a journey: the strength and courage that gives you the not being alone.

It is true that, no matter how much you love those by your side, they are still so different in the way they see and feel this world, in how they want to experience this life... But different is not always negative. It is not necessarily source of judgment, lack of understanding and appreciation, lack of support... Sometimes, exactly that "different" is what can help you find new solutions, answers, new ways of overcoming an obstacle on the road you are trying to walk. Sometimes it is exactly that support and needed hand that can help you navigate your emotions and doubts.

They are different. But this doesn't mean that they don't love you or don't want to see you bloom as the most beautiful flower of this world. They are here for you, and they show it in the only way, from the only perspective that they know... But they can also do it differently, if only you let them learn, allow them to understand fully what is it that you are looking for.

They have so many other versions of perceptions and opinions different from yours. But this is where their strength is. This is where the strength that they can give you is. So many new ways of facing things, of advices, of experiences, of more delicate or more straightforward approaches. So much help that they can give you on your journey, if only you allow them to.

Don't hide yourself, don't assume that they will not understand. Because there is nothing that they want more - to help you be your authentic and most confident self. You grew up, you changed, your mind learned so well to be open to others and their ways. And they can do it too. If you allow them to learn from you. To stay by your side as you make your first steps, to see you, to feel you. And to protect and guide you, helping you to don't doubt, to don't be afraid, and to believe in yourself.

And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

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suniverseastro · 1 year ago

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ASTROLOGY OBSERVATION #14

Mars in the 2nd house is very possessive

Moon Aquarius is easy to sympathize with those around, although they may have many bad qualities, they will often be ignored by people because of their support in the team. Some in this group when they don't like someone and hate openly can easily recognize their feelings, these people can play bad tricks like using crowds, councils to bully

Here are some of the positions that I don't like very much, doesn't mean they will all be the same and I hate everyone with this aspect, it just brings some difficulties and disadvantages, takes a lot of time time to recognize and transform it:

1. Moon Square/Opposite Pluto: often emotionally volatile and explosive, has difficulty controlling anger, may experience more bad luck with women

2. Moon square / Opposite Uranus: actually this is one of the most horrible corners for me because as far as I know and actually it means about their separation from the mother physically or mentally

3. Venus square/opposite Mars: causes sexual attraction but often changes partners too quickly and gets nowhere

4. Mars Libra: passive in problem solving. The house in this position plays an important role, like the one who moves the pieces tactically. I think it is necessary to add other angles to strengthen this position, especially Pluto to increase ambition and determination.

5. Venus Gemini: often emotional, easy to play emotional roller coaster with others, unpredictable, interesting, but for me this is not a very good position in love, they easily find it difficult. hard to find the right person

6. Moon square/Opposite Saturn: often encounters problems in childhood such as abandonment, working in a difficult, deprived environment, shouldering responsibility, loneliness; They have quite a lot of psychological damage, rarely share, confide, and find it difficult to open their hearts to others. When they learn to be less strict with themselves and learn to accept and love themselves, the door in their souls will lead them to the good things that are waiting for them on the other side of their hearts.

7. Venus square/opposite Uranus: feel less interested in wanting a relationship Some positions I like:

Moon trine/sextile Pluto: I once wished to have this aspect because it gives the ability to read other people's psyches and understand emotions deeply and they themselves also have a protective covering for their minds. mine

Sun trine/sextile Pluto: have their own privilege in society, they can be people whose image others consider as an authority and important figure, admire; Their passion is strong and they will try to do it

Mercury conjunct/ trine/ sextile Neptune: they have acumen, speciality and development in language, can know 2 or more languages, have artistic abilities, their voices are quite cute

Venus trine/sextile Mars: they easily radiate sexual attraction to other people (regardless of gender), which makes it easier for them to have relationships

Ascendant trine/sextile/conjunct Mercury: usually curious, cheerful, child-like eager people, they often have an active, playful appearance.

Ascendant trine/sextile/conjunct Sun: confident, shine, positive energy

Moon in Sagittarius/9th: very active, cheerful, likable, open and optimistic, they respect others and different cultures and religions

Mercury in Gemini: funny people, lots of topics to talk to, easy to talk to anyone, except people they don't like

Mercury conjunct/trine/sextile Pluto: their voice has charm, weight, usually straight to the point, analytical, inquisitive and rarely afraid of knowledge and reason

Moon sextile Venus: cute girls and boys, graceful words, pleasant, non-aggressive, cohesive and peaceful

(a position can't say who you are, everything will change, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse) try to take a deep breath and try to feel the peaceful moment in the present

Thank you everyone for inspiring me to write articles on this topic. Thank you for your love for me; love you all. Wishing you all good health, peace and luck ⭐

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mayasikeu · 5 months ago

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Hey! Could you do maybe a fic where reader and sunghoon are dating, reader is a soloist, fans know about them and support them, but sunghoon gets jealous and possessive when he watches her dance with her male dancer at award show, maybe a nfsw :) (English is not my first language so please don't mind my bad grammar) thank you!

You had been practicing your new choreography for weeks, excited for the upcoming performance. Sunghoon had always supported your passion for dancing and singing, admiring the way you always performed with grace and confidence. Both of your fans loved and adored your relationship, but unfortunately that wasn’t enough reassurance for Sunghoon as he would get jealous over the littlest things.

The night before the award show, you had decided to perform your choreography in the practice room for him.

The dance was definitely sensual as it was full of sneaky glances and suggestive movements. As you danced around the room, lost in the music, you imagined yourself on stage. But there was one part of the routine that you hadn't shared with Sunghoon until now.

A part where you had to dance with another man. It was just part of the act, a bit of playful interaction solely meant to entertain and hype up the crowd. As you mimicked the motions, you couldn’t help but notice Sunghoon’s jaw tightening as he watched.

"Who’s that part for?" he asked, trying to keep his tone nonchalant but failing miserably to mask the anger in his voice.

Your throat went dry. You turned to face him before gulping nervously. "Oh, that’s just part of the choreography," you replied, trying to brush it off. "It’s nothing serious, just a bit of fun."

His eyes blackened, the jealousy becoming more evident. "Fun? Dancing with another guy like that is fun for you?"

His fists clenched at his sides, the veins on his hands bulging aggressively. Possessiveness began firing in his eyes, making your heart race uncontrollably as you knew what was about to happen.

You stepped closer. "You know I don’t get to choose the gender of my dancers Sunghoon. Plus, it’s just for a performance, right? It doesn’t mean anything I swear." you said softly, hoping to calm him down with your quiet tone.

But Sunghoon couldn’t shake the image from his mind, the thought of your body so close to another man and being able to have his hands all over you. He pulled you closer, his grip fierce but gentle. "Show me," he said, "Show me how you dance with him."

He watched your every move as you began to dance again, the heat between you two rising with every step you took.

When you moved to spin away, his hand extended out, catching your wrist and pulling your back against his chest swiftly. "No," he whispered, his voice a rough growl in your ear. "You don’t get to dance with him. You’re mine."

“But Sunghoon—“

He pinned you against the mirror as he relaxed his other hand onto your waist.

His lips brushing against your ear before trailing down to the flesh on your neck. "Let me show you who you really belong to." he hummed, the warmth of his breath radiating onto you.

“Could he ever fuck you as good as I do?” Sunghoon asked, his tone deepened as he nuzzled his nose into your neck. “I bet his dick wouldn’t be able to satisfy you like mine does.”

Sunghoon turned you around again, but this time with more force. “W-what are you doing?”

“I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you.” he groaned, rubbing his hard bulge against the softness of your ass.

“S-sunghoon” you whimpered softly, all of your frustration towards him melting away as you felt his erection pressed in between your cheeks.

“Yes princess?” he teased, grabbing you by the neck to make you face your reflection in the mirror as soon as you tried to look away in embarassment. “S-stop it, we can’t do this right now” you stuttered.

“Let’s see if you’re still thinking about him when I’m done with you.” he smirked. He began kissing you, exploring your mouth and smudging all of the lipgloss you had on.

He impatiently stripped you naked before undressing himself.

There was no more talking after that. You both communicated in moans and heavy breaths. His hands touching you everywhere, as if he was claiming his territory. You could feel the jealousy in every touch, every kiss. He was desperate in the way he held you, as if he needed to prove something, not just to you but to himself.

And you let him. You loved him like this, wild and possessive, showing you with every thrust that you were his and only his no matter what.

When you finally fell apart, breathless and still tangled in each other’s grip, the tension in the air had completely disappeared. He pulled you closer, his desire now replaced by a deep and satisfied contentment as he held you closely, skin against skin.

“Mine,” he murmured again, this time softer, as if he needed to remind himself.

337 notes · View notes

merakiui · 1 year ago

Text

The Most Dangerous Game [2]

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, slight hints of dub-con, coercion, manipulation, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, obsession, unrequited/one-sided love, brief angst, choking, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, characters written as 18+ note - it is never a good idea to make mutually beneficial arrangements with jade leech. // split into two parts due to size. read the first half here.

There’s a certain air about you when you enter the Mostro Lounge.

Radiating confident satisfaction, a cutthroat type of on-top-of-the-world aura that replaces any first day jitters attempting to rise to the surface, you beeline for the kitchen. You know the lounge’s layout well enough—not only as a customer who spent an obsessive amount of time observing these details, but also as Jade’s diligent taste-tester. You’ve been let into the lounge kitchen after hours more often than you’d like to admit, but it only serves to bolster your mental fortitude.

I’m going to kill it today, you assure yourself. Prove to Azul that I’m capable and get closer to Floyd in the process.

As if having read your thoughts, Floyd intercepts you. “Heyyy, Shrimpy really showed up!” He circles you like a curious shark, a smile slowly spreading on his lips. “Lookin’ good.”

You reward his ogling with a twirl in your new uniform, which had been conveniently waiting at your doorstep this morning—wrapped in a pretty box with a big bow. The card had simply read: A uniform to celebrate your newly acquired Officially Octavinelle status. You didn’t have to read further to know who signed the message, and the note had been swiftly torn in two and tossed into the trash while you lamented to Grim and the ghosts about a certain stupid, sly eel.

“Aren’t I just the spitting image of scummy scams and the deep sea?”

“The most spittin’ image anyone’s ever spat,” he agrees with a silly giggle. But then something serious passes over his features. He plucks your hat from off your head and leans in close. “It’s Shrimpy’s first day, so I’m gonna letcha in on a li’l somethin’, kay?”

Out of instinct, you shrink away. His voice is a dangerous whisper, lined with threatening undertones. “Anyone gives you any trouble, you come to me, got it? Don’t think you can’t say nothin’ cuz you’re new.”

“Oh. O-Oh!” You nod hastily, too astounded to rely on your usual quick-witted coherency. “Thank you… I appreciate that.”

Like a flipped switch, he brightens and plops your hat back on your head. “Man, I’m pumped! It’s gonna be so much fun with Shrimpy here!”

You adjust your hat and skip after him, not wanting to slip out of his orbit. “So what’s the plan for today?”

Floyd grins and holds a card between his fingers like a magician readying to reveal his next trick. Foolishly, you assume it’s a love letter up until you watch him scribble something down on a second card. He passes the unmarked one to you, explaining, “Ya gotta sign in for every shift. These things keep track of the hours ya worked, and at the end of every two weeks Azul counts ’em up.”

“That makes sense.” You take the pen he offers and scribble your name and the time in the appropriate boxes, soon handing both to him.

“And after you put it back here, you can start doin’ what you’re supposed to. Least, that’s what I usually do.”

“And that is?”

“Whatever I feel like.”

“Ah, right. Then what about me? What should I do?”

“You’re gonna be with me today. We’ll be takin’ orders and servin’ customers. Doin’ stuff as we go. That sorta thing.”

“All right! Sounds easy enough!” The both of you high-five just as Jade approaches, wearing his usual polite smile.

“My, my. Someone’s in high spirits.”

You nod, too eager to entertain him with another pointless argument. “You bet! Oh, and thanks for the uniform.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Your nose scrunches at his too-proud inflection, but your attention is soon snatched away when Floyd returns with a notepad and pen.

You flip to a fresh page, curiously clicking your pen. “I’m assuming there’s a system for taking orders?”

“Precisely,” Jade interrupts, smoothly striding between you and Floyd, a hand over his heart. “We use abbreviations when taking orders. It’s quick and convenient. I’ll help you as you go.”

Floyd easily steps around Jade, draping an arm on your shoulder and tugging you against him. Your heart skyrockets into your throat at this newfound closeness. “You’ll get it in no time. S’not difficult at all. And if Shrimpy gets stuck, she’s got me.”

Jade stares at Floyd, a ghost of a frown turning his lips down. “She’ll have both of us,” he corrects coolly. “Azul tasked both of us to train her, after all.”

“Yeah, but you’re just gonna do things by the book. That’s no fun at all.” Floyd spins you to look at him. “You want me to train ya, right? It’ll be more fun that way.”

You lock eyes with Jade over Floyd’s shoulder. Though they’re dulled with emptiness, he smiles and nods encouragingly. “Uh… I mean, of course I want you to train me. But Azul might get angry if I mess up on my first day because I wanted to have fun. Seems a little…irresponsible.”

He’ll definitely count it as my first strike, too. There’s no way I’m risking that.

Floyd pouts, his entire frame melting with disappointment. “Aww. Shrimpy’s lame.”

“There are other ways to have fun, you know.” Swatting his empty insult away, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “We just can’t get caught.”

“Attagirl, now you’re speakin’ my language.”

“Hell yeah! Let’s do this!”

Between the two of them, Floyd actually proves his worth—more so than Jade. He must be on top of his game today, you realize as he points out various numbering systems and abbreviations, casually correcting you when it’s necessary. You wonder how he can remember all of this, but when he puts his mind to a task he can accomplish anything. You’re content to listen and follow along, striving for perfection even though you know that means nothing to Floyd.

Jade keeps his distance, tending to nearby tables when he’s not needed. He’s quiet today, more so than usual, but you don’t have any time to dissect this observation and what it means. The lunch rush is a whirlwind; students filter in with their cravings, piling into booths and tables, and soon the lounge is resembling a noisy sardine tin. The rowdy energy keeps you alert, has you flitting from table to table with a pep in your step. Every group you’ve tended to, with Floyd standing at your side as your lifeline, has shrunk away at the sight of him. He flashes them friendly grins, but to everyone else they probably look menacing.

You’re relieved he’s here. His presence gives you some special sort of invincibility against ignorant customers who may have been itching to heckle you on your first day. And no one would dare try anything with Floyd prowling so closely.

“Thank you for your order! It’ll be up shortly,” you say, offering the table a trademark customer service smile. You turn on your heel, intending to beeline for the kitchen to notify the chefs of another order, when you walk right into Floyd. “Oh, sorry! Do you need something, Floyd?”

Pinching the order slip between two nimble fingers, he tears it from the notebook and beams. “I’ll take care of this. You do the next one by yourself. Table six.” Before you can object, he pats you on the shoulder and skips off. “Countin’ on ya, Shrimpy!”

Aw. I’ll miss you, you think with a dejected pout, spinning to locate the table in question. The pout immediately twists up into a smile when you spot three familiar faces, and you hurry over to meet them.

“Hey, guys, fancy seeing you here!”

Ace, Deuce, and Grim all turn to look at you, their faces brightening considerably at your arrival.

“(Name), hey! How’s your first shift going?” Deuce asks.

“Think ya could slide us some extras free of charge?” Grim tries, patting the menu with his paw. “The Great Grim ain’t gonna say no to free eats!”

“Now that sounds good. What do ya think, (Name)? Think you could hook us up?” With a smirk, Ace leans back into the cushioned booth and pantomimes locking his lips and tossing an invisible key. “We won’t tell if you won’t.”

You roll your eyes, hands situated on your hips. “First of all, no, I can’t do that even if I wanted to. Secondly, if you’re just here to beg for free food, the door’s over there.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Deuce cuts in, shooting them a look. “They’re just thinking with their stomachs. We’re paying customers like everyone else, so please just treat us like that.”

Ace tuts. “You wouldn’t even do something nice for your best buds? That’s harsh, man. I thought we had something.”

“We do and it’s called friendship. But not the kind of friendship where I steal from my job just to feed you. Besides, you get tons of free snacks every time you hang out at Ramshackle. If anything, you ought to do something nice for me.”

“Can’t I just buy my way out with this award-winning smile of mine? Oh, I know! I’ll teach you a few magic tricks next time we play cards. How’s that sound for payment? Priceless, yeah?”

“Not too bad. All right, I’m in.” You reach over to bump fists with Ace, sealing the verbal deal.

“Hey, I wanna learn! If yer teachin’ my hench-human, I gotta get in on this, too!” Grim nudges Ace, attempting to squeeze past him in the booth to get between him and you.

“Oi, Grim! Sit back down!”

You laugh at the sight while Deuce looks on woefully. He turns to you next. “How’s it going with Floyd? You said you’d have a better chance to see him here, right?”

“Yeah, it’s going surprisingly well! I thought he’d want nothing to do with me at first—because I’d be just another new hire—but he’s been super helpful all day. On top of that, we’re talking more than we usually do. Oh, and he also complimented me! It’s been a great first day.” The more you ramble, the more the color on Deuce’s face drains until he’s as pallid as a ghost. “Uh, Deuce? You good?”

Even Grim and Ace have quieted their quarreling, and now they look on with an obedience that startles you. But then, in spite of his silence, you sense him. Without turning to confirm, you feel around for the ends of his scarf, take hold of both, and tug him down to your height.

“My, my. It seems I’ve been ensnared,” Jade admits, his voice light with laughter.

“It’s rude to lurk, you know,” you advise, craning your head to glare at him. “You’re scaring my honored guests.”

“Am I now?” Rather boldly, he rests his chin on your shoulder to stare down at your friends. The proximity would have been ominous to anyone else—and it certainly is to Ace, Deuce, and Grim—but for you this is nothing new. “I’ve only come to check in. You’re very hard at work making pleasant conversation.”

“It was very pleasant until a certain eel interrupted.”

“Ah, is that so? Pardon my intrusion.”

Releasing his scarf from your hold, you shrug him off. “Little late for insincerity. Anyway, shoo. I was just about to take their orders.”

“I thought I might observe. You seem quite popular with customers and it’s only your first day. I’d like to know what parts of you are so appealing.” Jade detaches himself and slides into the empty space beside you. He smiles, close-eyed and tight-lipped. “Don’t let me hinder you.”

“Ugh. All right, guys, what do you want?”

“Since when are you so buddy-buddy with Jade?” Ace asks instead, sounding genuinely curious despite his growing smirk.

He thinks he’s worked out what’s going on behind the scenes, but he doesn’t even know half of it. A relief, otherwise you’d never hear the end of his teasing. He doesn’t bother to hide it, nor does he whisper his query. If you could shrink him with pure willpower alone, stuff him in a jar, and give it a firm shake, you’d do just that.

“We are not buddy-buddy!” you hiss, clicking your pen impatiently. “Now order, or else I’m leaving your table and never coming back.”

“I dunno…” Deuce winces under the combination of Jade’s inquisitive stare and your mean glower as you wordlessly dare him to continue. “You seem like buds to me.”

“Yeah! (Name) was goin’ on and on about him this morning. Nearly made me deaf with all her loud rantin’! Since the Great Grim’s so all-knowin’ about stuff, I’d say she likes him.”

You catch the grin curling on Jade’s lips and hurry to step in front of him before he can say or do anything that’ll deepen the grave you’ve dug. His hands fall upon your shoulders, holding you still while he leers at your friends.

“Do we truly seem so close?” he asks. A trick question if you’ve ever heard one.

The three of them exchange wary looks before attempting chuckles.

“You know… Actually, I think I’m ready to order now.”

“I mean, closeness can’t really be measured physically like that, right? You kinda have no choice but to be close or…as close as coworkers can get, I guess,” Deuce adds.

“The Great Grim’s gonna be skin and bones by the time you finish yapping! Hurry up and lemme put my order in!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stick your tongue out at them before shifting out of Jade’s grasp, penning their orders one at a time. Once everything has been recorded, you rip the slip from the notepad and pass it to Jade. He peers at it, brows raised.

“Since we’re so close, help me out and make this order.”

“Anything for Shrimpy,” he murmurs with that stupid, sly smile of his. He brushes past you as he departs for the bar.

You just love to play dangerous games, don’t you, Jade Leech? you think, hoping he trips on the way there. (He doesn’t.)

“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?” Ace asks once it’s just you. “Nothing at all?”

Your eyes narrow dubiously. “Why? You interested?”

He forces a loud scoff. “As if! Like I’d like you. You’ve probably got all sortsa cooties.”

“Oh, really? I’ll show you cooties. Come here!”

Giggling, you throw yourself into the booth and wrap your arms around Ace to smother him in friendly affection. He fights it halfheartedly, his cheeks flushed pink. Deuce and Grim sit back and enjoy the silliness with wide smirks. You’re near-wrestling with him, the both of you attempting to overpower the other with pokes and pinches. It’s when you spot Floyd emerging from the kitchen, drinks balanced on his tray, that you finally separate yourself from Ace, putting a grand end to your impossible stalemate.

“Now we’ve both got cooties.” You ruffle his hair. He attempts to return the favor, but you take a graceful step away before he can capture you.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you wait. I’ll get you back for this,” he challenges, mischief lacing each syllable. “When you least expect it! That’s an Ace Trappola guarantee!”

“You sure you’re not just gonna forget?” Deuce notes with a smirk, to which Ace glares.

“Just because you said that, I’m gonna remember it for the rest of the month!”

“Good luck,” Grim says with a snicker. “The Great Grim might be inclined to remind you if you offer him some premium tuna…”

“Come off it! Your memory’s even worse! Just look at your last test score!”

“Yours ain’t any better!”

You shake your head, thoroughly amused with their antics. “I’ll see you later, okay? Let’s hang out at Ramshackle tonight!”

Deuce nods and flashes you a kind smile—the type that smooths out all of his rough edges. “Have a good rest of your shift, (Name).”

“Make a difference, tiger,” Ace says with a wink. “Catch ya in the eve.”

“And if they got leftovers at the end of this, bring ’em home for me!”

“You can count on it, guys. And I’m not making any promises, Grim!”

And then you’re slipping into the fray before your always-hungry direbeast friend can protest, darting around the noisy hustle and bustle to get to Floyd. He’s just finished making his rounds when you meet him at the center, the both of you sharing a nod of mutual greeting. Carrying drinks of his own, Jade passes you and you don’t spare him a single glance. You’ve seen and heard enough of him for the day.

“Shrimpy’s pretty good at this,” Floyd remarks as he wraps an arm around you, putting most of his weight on you. You stand proud even though you falter with the added burden. “Didja work in a place like this back in your world?”

You gaze up at him, your face inches from his. Any closer and you could…

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his lips and then back. Floyd watches you, brows raised and body angled directly at you. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, you’re not sure.

“Yeah,” you admit in a single breath, speechless and yet filled to the brim with chatter. “I… I did.”

“Then you got nothin’ to worry about. You’re already doin’ great.”

He leans in even closer, a smile stretching across his face. You can smell his cologne, practically taste him from where you stand. The lounge and its inhabitants seem to fade away, and suddenly it’s just you and your star in a tenebrous space lit only by a single spotlight.

Any closer—mere centimeters—and you could…

Gathering your courage, you force the words out from the crannies in your heart, each one a product of this perfect moment. “Floyd, I’ve always wanted to tell you this. I… I want you to know that I’ve always loved—”

“Your work ethic,” Jade interjects, placing his hands on your and Floyd’s shoulders to separate you. He smiles, irritatingly innocent. “As it happens, table eight needs a server. Why not show off that incredible work ethic right now?”

On second thought, maybe you should shove Jade in the jar. Lock him inside for the rest of his days and turn it into a terrarium trap. The plants can thrive off of his decomposing corpse for all you care—as recompense for being an utter pain.

Floyd shrugs Jade off with a pout. “Yeah, yeah. I see ’em.”

“I’ll race you there,” you challenge before he can lose steam.

That sparks him right back into the groove, and he giggles. “If I win, you gotta tell me that thing you were tryin’ to say, okaaay? No gettin’ out of it. And if you lie, I’ll squeeze the truth outta ya.”

“And if I win, you owe me something sweet!”

“Hee-hee. Shrimpy better run fast then.”

He takes off first. You lag behind long enough to drag Jade down to your face. He tilts his head at you.

“At this rate, he’ll win.”

“Good. Then he’ll finally know how I feel about him, and someone won’t be there to interrupt like the ignorant, asshole eel he is.”

“I only wish to assist you. After all—” he lowers his voice, and the pointed beginnings of his teeth wink at you from under his curved lips— “as per Azul’s condition, kissing and confessions count as Floyd-related distractions, do they not? Are you truly willing to risk striking out on your first day?”

He’s right. You hate that he’s right.

“Shit,” you hiss, releasing him from your hold.

He straightens and struts past you, smooth as a breeze. “If you run now, you may just make it.” And then he’s walking towards your friends’ table, each of their drinks placed upon his tray.

You groan and fall into a frantic run. “Floyd, wait up!”

By some magical miracle, you manage to get to the table before he does. But that’s only because you throw yourself at it with a force so shocking and desperate that it stuns both Floyd and the students sitting there. A twinge of humiliation pricks your heart when you draw away from the table, smiling sheepishly. Floyd’s raucous laughter permeates the air, and his hand claps down on your shoulder.

“Musta been a real good secret if Shrimpy’s so determined to keep quiet about it.”

“Y-Yeah, something like that…”

Thank goodness I made it. Just what was I thinking, getting swept up in the moment? There’s no way I can confess in the middle of the lounge when it’s so busy! That would make for such a lame confession. You dig your notepad and pen from your pocket, exhaling in relief. I guess I owe Jade some thanks. He saved me from certain doom.

“I’ll figure it out eventually. Don’t hold out on me, kaaay?”

With his looming frame overshadowing you, all you can do is nod. Floyd has always had a tendency to take your breath away—either from anxiety, amazement, or admiration. And he’s so good at it, too.

“Ah. Guess I owe ya somethin’ sweet, yeah?” He digs through his pockets before withdrawing a single candy. Grinning boyishly, he leans in, presses his lips to your cheek with a wet-sounding smack, and then slides the treat into your waiting hand. “There. How’s that for sweet?”

Your face flares with heat and you grip the lollipop in a tighter fist, half-expecting it to simply vanish if you loosen your grip. “T-The sweetest…”

“Uh, can we order now?” an impatient Scarabia student asks, a scowl scrawled across his features.

His friends huff in agreement, each unwilling spectators to your and Floyd’s fluffy fawning.

Floyd’s gaze is dark, but his smile is bright—all sharp points. “Sure, sure. Tell Shrimpy your order. It’s her first day, so cut her some slack, else I’m servin’ each of ya a side of squeezin’. On the house.”

The quartet of friends stiffen and give hasty, obedient nods.

You click your pen, swimming through a sea of pure joy. The lollipop is a lucky charm in your pocket. “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”

For the rest of the day you’re in the clouds, clear-headed and weightless.

Weeks later, on your way out of the lounge, Floyd stops you. His arrival is Grim’s cue to exit, and he trots after Ace and Deuce, who are already so far ahead they’re practically pinpricks. You’re compelled to follow, if only to tell them not to wait up, but then Floyd’s hand is squeezing your shoulder, willing you to look at him.

“Floyd?”

You’re not scheduled to work tonight. In fact, you have no further business with him. Not really. Most of your conversations are held during your shifts, your bond strengthened through mutual employment. You’re not best friends, but you’re something close.

Close enough to see each other outside of work, you think before cringing inwardly. Wait. Friends and classmates do that, too. There’s nothing special about that.

“Why don’tcha stay a while? S’not too busy today.”

“I’d love to, but I’ve kinda got plans. We’re heading back to Ramshackle now if you wanna come.”

“Tempting, but nah.”

You blink at him, unsure of his angle. “Then… I’ll see you around?”

Floyd giggles, tilting his head at you in that cute, curious way. “Okaaay.”

His hand slides away and he stands with his arms folded behind his back. You take a step in the opposite direction before halting.

Floyd was the one who sought me out. Floyd…wants something from me. And we’re finally alone. Why am I trying to walk away from that? Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted?

“Actually—” you start, whirling around, still unsure— “can we hang out?”

“Thought ya’d never ask.”

Floyd strides over to match your gait, grinning down at you. He seizes your hand next, spindly fingers interlocking with yours, and then he’s dragging you down the hall. As if caught up in a current, you allow yourself to be pulled.

“What about your shift?” you ask even though you don’t particularly care.

“They’ll manage. Azul’ll just make Jade do all the work.”

You furrow your brow, stumbling along after him. “That doesn’t seem very fair to Jade.”

“Shrimpy cares a lot about Jade, huh?”

“Not like that,” you say, shaking your head. “No way. Jade and I are just friends.”

“Yeah? Didn’t seem that way yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You think back on the day’s events and recall the way Jade had slipped past you while you were taking an order, his fingers grazing your arm. Of course, as any smart, sensible person would do, you wound your fist back to reciprocate tenfold, which he’d artfully dodged. Much to your disappointment. “Oh, that. That was…an attempt at a high-five.”

Floyd giggles. “Jade’s not super touchy-feely with lotsa people, but he loooves touchin’ Shrimpy.”

You force yourself to laugh, but it comes out high and brittle. “That’s… Yeah, that’s odd. I wonder why…”

Jade, you asshole eel, you haven’t been discreet at all!

Before you can even think of the many ways in which you can exact revenge the next time you see him, Floyd’s in your face.

“Sooo, what spell didja cast on him? It’s got Jade actin’ all weird.”

“Define weird…”

“He’s stayin’ up super late to cook a buncha stuff. Keeps tryin’ to get these recipes right or somethin’ like that, and he’s bringin’ those purple flowers back from the botanical garden. S’not like him to get so…not like him, y’know?”

“Oh. Um. Uh… I couldn’t begin to explain any of his behavior. Maybe he’s just going through something?”

Floyd shrugs. “Do ya like him?”

“Like is a strong word.”

“So you love him.”

“What? No. We’re just friends.”

“So you hate him? That’s cold, Shrimpy. Jade’ll be so sad…”

“I highly doubt that.” You roll your eyes, unable to place real devastation on the face of Jade Leech. For all you know, he could just mask it with his usual simper. “I don’t hate him, but I don’t love him either. I like someone else.”

“Ooh, Shrimpy’s got eyes for another guy? Wonder who it could be.” Floyd hums, folding his arms behind his head and walking onwards. You skip after him. “Maybe it’s me? Nah. S’probably someone closer than that. Like Crabby, yeah?”

Your heart stumbles in your ribs. I can’t confess. Not now. It’s not perfect. I’m not ready.

“M-My love life is none of your business.”

“Secretive about your special someone? I getcha.” He gazes at you. “Do they know?”

“About my crush? Hard to say. If he does know, he hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Maybe ya just gotta be direct with it. Rip the bandage off. That sorta thing.”

“I want to. I really do. But…” You glance at the tiled floor. “I know he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Don’t assume stuff when ya haven’t even asked the guy.”

“But I’m positive he doesn’t like me! There’s no way he’d like me. I’m…me.”

Floyd huffs as if your self-doubt offends him. “What’s there not to like about ya? You’re great in my book.”

“It’s different. Being great and being loved—it’s not the same if it’s coming from a friend.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Why can’tcha be great and loved at the same time? Ya don’t gotta get that sorta validation from the guy you like.”

“That’s the problem. I want him to like me! I want that from him.”

“Even if he doesn’t give it to ya, s’not the end of the world.”

Without even realizing it, the two of you have made it to his dorm room. You stare at Floyd, a frown flickering on your face.

“I know. I…know. But there’s this part of me that hopes.”

Floyd leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Why’s that?”

“Because he does these things that feel too intimate to be friendly and it seems like he might love me, too. No matter how hard I try, I can’t read his intentions. He’s so loud, but the meaning in all of that noise is quiet. It’s like… Like you’re drowning.”

Floyd stares blankly at you. It occurs to you that drowning may not be the best metaphor to use when explaining these complications to a merman who has never and will never know what such a phenomenon feels like.

“Wait. That came out weird. What am I even saying? Sorry, I sound silly. Just…forget that last part.”

“Sure, sure.” He pushes off from the wall and opens the door. “You ever think about practicin’ on anyone?”

“Like…CPR? To save someone from drowning?”

He gives you a confused look.

This is the worst. I’m not normally this dumb. If Jade was here— You stop that thought before it can form. I don’t need him to hold my hand through an interaction with Floyd. Come on, (Name). You can do this!

“Oh, you meant…” What the hell did he mean? “You’re talking about a confession, right?”

“Yeah, that’s it! You ever think about doin’ that with a friend? Maybe it’ll boost your confidence a li’l. Get ya ready for the real deal.”

“I have…never thought of that. Not once in my life. Nope. Never.”

Floyd ducks inside his room and plops down on a messy bed. You follow, admiring the very obvious divide in space. Jade’s half of the room is clinically clean—every possession organized and stowed away on shelves. Even his desk is spotless. Floyd’s half is chaos stuffed with chaos, entirely in messy disarray. When their differences are made so obvious, it’s almost amusing.

You spot heliotropes tucked away in a simple vase. Floyd wasn’t kidding. Jade really is attached to those flowers. At least they match his room.

“Then practice on me.”

“You… You’re serious?” You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his palms.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I wanna help Shrimpy.”

“Um… You don’t have to. It’ll probably sound cringe.”

“Who knows?” He hums, smirking. “You won’t until you do it.”

You weigh your options. Practicing a confession for your crush with your crush… It could be cathartic to say everything you’ve always wanted to say without the worry that often accompanies rejection. You might even feel better afterwards.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

“Really promise. Like, genuinely promise. Please?”

“I really, genuinely promise not to laugh,” he parrots, holding his hand up as if swearing an oath.

You inhale a deep breath, steel your nerves, and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Okay…”

I’ve got this. It’s just a confession. A practice confession.

“I… I like you. For the longest time, I’ve been in love with you and I’ve always wanted to tell you. But… Well, it’s impossible because I never know what to say or whether it’ll be the right thing. Maybe there is no right thing.” You risk opening your eyes and find he’s focused squarely on you. Nervously, you step towards him. “You’re amazing. The coolest guy I’ve ever met. I’m so happy when I’m around you, and when we’re not together I feel like part of me is missing. Maybe that’s kinda dramatic, but it’s the truth. You’re my star. Bright and unique and effortlessly beautiful… I could admire you forever. So… So I just want you to know that…that no matter what happens—even if you don’t feel the same—you mean everything to me, and I’ll always love you.”

Floyd is unusually quiet as he sits there, absorbing your words with a flushed face. And then he reaches to scratch the back of his neck.

You fidget on your feet. “H-How was it?”

“I’m not an expert, but I’d say that was pretty damn good,” he replies with a whistle. Your heart lifts when he beckons you over. “C’mere. There’s somethin’ on your face.”

Now your heart has crash-landed in the pits of your stomach.

“Are you serious?! Why didn’t you tell me before all of that? Aah, I probably looked so stupid!” Your panicked flailing ceases when his hands settle upon your waist, coaxing you closer. “F-Floyd?”

He drags you down to his height and leans in to peck you on the lips, and your heart jumps back up into your throat. Rather than yanking yourself out of his grasp, you merely stare at him. A few seconds later and the embarrassment catches up to you.

“W-Wait… Wait, hold on! What was that for?”

He giggles. “Now it’s all gone.”

He kissed me for real this time…

You swallow rising anxieties and place your hands on his shoulders. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

“S’long as it ain’t gonna change your mind about that other guy, go for it.”

Dummy, you think, besotted. You’re that guy.

Guided by hedonistic desire, you close the distance between the both of you in the same way you once did with Jade. As humiliating as it is to admit, he was marvelous help. If not for him, you might’ve never found yourself here, kissing after a practice confession. You’ll have to thank him later.

Floyd’s lips are soft against your own, and he smiles into the kiss with a gleeful, breathless giggle. His hands are roaming along your hips, and he flops onto his bed without forewarning. You fall with him and inadvertently straddle him, your hands situated on either side of his head. You sputter your disbelief, which is soon cut short when he drags you down to meet his mouth once more. This time it’s all heady passion, more innate instinct than anything. You kiss like you’ll never have another chance, savoring saliva and a duet of sounds made in salacity.

The both of you are left breathless in the aftermath, chests heaving. If this is a dream, you never want to wake.

Floyd smiles up at you, sandwiching your face between large, strong hands. “You gonna kiss your special someone like this?”

“Maybe,” you tease with a wink. “I wonder if he prefers soft, slow kisses or quick, hungry ones… It’s hard to say with his fluctuating moods, and there are just so many ways to kiss.”

Floyd’s smile morphs into something devious, and his hands slide to your arms. You yelp when he flips you and pins you down like you’re nothing more than a portrait on a wall. You’re about to question the sudden change in position when he hoists your legs up and around his waist. He rocks his hips once, slotting himself between your thighs in a way so sensual it has you overheating. Your breath hitches.

“Then we’d better practice all of ’em, yeah?”

You nod, your voice coming out meek. “Y-Yeah…”

“Gimme some hints. I wanna know who this guy is,” he says, removing his scarf and undone tie. His blazer and hat follow suit, abandoned in the piles of dirty laundry spread around on his side of the floor.

You’re so distracted by his methodical undressing that you almost miss his demand. “O-Oh, it’s…not important.”

“It is to me. I wanna know who I’m gonna hafta squeeze for stealin’ Shrimpy’s heart.”

“Is… Is that right?” you mumble, flinching when you spot his erection straining against his slacks.

“Shrimpy’s so cute. I just couldn’t help it,” he answers your unspoken question, each syllable an octave higher with his whimsical laughter. You watch deft hands work to slide the suspenders from his shoulders before moving to unbutton his uniform shirt. You blink and it’s already thrown over his shoulder. You drink his broad build in, brazen in your assessment of chiseled planes cut in charming chiaroscuro. “So who’s the lucky guy? Is it someone I know? Someone from Octavinelle?”

“Um… It’s definitely someone…”

“Course it is. But that ain’t givin’ me any solid clues.”

His hands crawl lower, hovering just above the zip that separates you from his boxers and, additionally, his cock.

It’s actually happening… Floyd wants to do this with me… Is this real? It’s not a dream, right?

With a scintilla of courage, you lift your gaze to his face. “It’s someone from Octavinelle.”

“You sure it ain’t Jade?”

“There are plenty of people in Octavinelle who aren’t Jade.”

“Yeah, but none of ’em are cozyin’ up to ya during work.”

“Jade does not cozy up to me.” Scoffing at the absurdity of it all, you reach to undo the first few buttons on your uniform blouse. Floyd follows your fingers like they’re a laser and he’s a cat entranced. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “He’s, like, obsessed with his fungi. I think they’re more interesting to him than me.”

Floyd barks out a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

You sit up and pull your blouse from your person. At once, you feel humiliated and it’s not because of the half-nudity. Rather, it’s because the bra you’re wearing is not pretty in the slightest. Had you known you’d be rolling around in bed with Floyd, you’d have chosen something with more lace—something that’s not nearly as bland as the one you’re currently sporting.

“Well, if it ain’t Jade, who is it?”

“Guess.”

He pouts. “Shrimpy’s not bein’ very nice, makin’ me guess. You think I got every small fry’s name memorized?”

You choke on your retort when he palms you. “I… I’ll describe him.”

“Go on. I’m listenin’.” As he says this, he undoes the button on your pants, sliding them from your legs like he’s unwrapping a gift. You’re relieved your panties are, at the very least, cuter than your bra. “Don’t let me stop ya.”

“Okay… Where do I start? He’s handsome and has an unusual sense of humor, but it’s fun because he’s genuine with it. He can be a little frightening at times, but he’s never scared me. He’s so kind and he has the oddest reasons for why he does things, but he never lies about any of it.”

“Sounds like a decent guy.”

“He’s so much more than that!”

Floyd giggles and reaches for your bra next, yanking it up to free your breasts. You feel yourself getting warmer with every second he spends staring.

“It’s not Azul, is it?”

It’s a completely reasonable guess—not funny at all—but you laugh. “No.”

Floyd huffs. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re wringin’ me out here. Who is it?”

He moves to toy with your chest, but you pull him down instead. He’s so close you’re breathing him in like he’s new perfume. “Aren’t we supposed to practice kissing? Can’t do much of that if we’re talking.”

“Guess not.”

He seals the distance then, pinning you with his body. The hand that had previously been between your thighs slithers up to squeeze your breasts. He pinches and rolls your perky nipple in an effort to elicit all kinds of explicit sounds from the depths of your throat. Floyd’s tongue flashes into your mouth and you submit without struggle, allowing your own tongue to twine around his. Your hands roam without much foresight for where they’ll inevitably end up, fingers pressing into hard lines and well-toned musculature. You settle for looping your arms around his neck as you melt into him, sighing sweetly.

When he parts, you scramble to bring him back. “Floyd—”

“‘m not goin’ anywhere,” he promises, pressing his forehead to yours. He speaks softer next, as if fearing you might shove him away and flee. “You want this, right?”

“I do. More than anything.”

“You sure it ain’t gonna mess things up with you and your special someone?”

“I…” You purse your lips.

Is now a good time? It must be. It has to be! But…

“You don’t gotta tell me. Lemme know if you change your mind. I’ll stop,” he says, burying his face between your tits. Your fingers dig into his scalp and he groans when you yank fistfuls of his hair. His breath fans across your bare skin, sending pleasant shivers through your spine all the way to your toes.

You gaze at the ceiling, heart hammering relentlessly. “Thanks.”

“Mhmmm. Don’t mention it.”

Floyd peppers your chest with kisses as if it’s an empty canvas in need of affectionate paint. One hand continues to treat your nipple as if it’s his own personal stress toy while his mouth gravitates towards your other untouched bud. It hardens with his deliberate ministrations, his tongue tracing salacious circles. You gasp when the serrated points of his teeth tease your sensitive flesh next.

“Please—” it comes out reedy and raw— “Floyd, please bite me…”

“You suuure?” he asks even though the question is more playful than serious. His fingers find your panties next, hooking around the waistband to slide them down.

“I’m so sure—very sure! Please!”

You feel his amusement reverberate through you in waves when he chuckles. He tweaks your nipple harshly, and a sharp, stuttering moan slips from your parted lips. Floyd’s mouth comes off of your other nipple with a wet pop and he licks his way up to your collarbone.

“I want Shrimpy to forget all about that other guy. Only think about me right now.”

Buoyant with bliss, you hum your acquiescence. Every part of you burns with a desire so redoubtable it could be a manifestation of its own, tangible and malleable. Shaped for sex, splayed on Floyd’s mattress, entirely in the moment. You’re at his mercy, your pulse in his maw, and it’s everything.

His bite incites primal jouissance, fierce and predatory. It’s deep enough to break skin and sting, and you respond to the pleasure-pain with a keening cry. Your fingers curl into his hair to ground yourself while blood pools to the surface. Floyd’s tongue laps at the puncture. Crimson trickles from the mark when he pulls back to observe his work, his jaw stained red.

And Great Seven does he look attractive in the most agrestal, ruddy way.

He licks his lips clean, satisfaction shimmering in those enchanting eyes of his. Now that you’re looking at them, you’ve never realized just how splendid they truly are. Gold and olive-brown cut sharp, upward-angled sockets into his skull. He’s a work of art—your Galatea brought to life.

Before you can spend any more time studying him, Floyd presses two fingers against your mouth. You open wide to receive his digits, senselessly running your tongue over them without command. He giggles at this, reaching deeper until you’re choking.

“Not nice!” you exclaim after he’s pulled his hand away, his fingers coated in your saliva.

“Hee-hee. Sorry, Shrimpy.”

Remorseless. You love him.

Your moans are hissed through grit teeth when his fingers drag along your folds, just barely slipping in to sample the warmth within. You pull Floyd in for another sloppy kiss, licking into his mouth with senseless fervor and grinding down onto his hand to chase a far-off, budding climax. Floyd’s thumb glides along your clit, pushing your hood up to reveal the pert nub beneath. He sinks his slender fingers in then, two of them pushing through gummy walls without resistance. Your eyes roll back into your head when he does this, blissful relief coursing through your bloodstream.

“Oh… Haa—fuck. Thank you.”

“So pretty,” he mumbles, lazily pumping them in and out. “You’re real pretty, you know that? My pretty Shrimpy, all mine.”

“Do you… Do you really mean that?”

“Course I do. What? You don’t think so?”

“Yes—no, I mean… I… No one’s told me that before…”

Not true, your brain interrupts, oh-so-helpfully unearthing the memory despite your attempts to stifle it. Jade did. Jade thinks so.

“They wouldn’t know pretty if she stared ’em in the face.”

“Obviously not.” Your giggle rises in pitch, sounding more like a trembling cry when he curls his fingers. “Ah!”

You banish Jade to the darkest corners of your mind, willing him and his silver-tongued flattery away. Who cares if Jade thought it first? It means the most coming from Floyd.

Floyd’s smile is fond, his eyes soft. “Obviously not,” he echoes in agreement.

He works you open like you’re a blossom preening under sunlight, his fingers plucking expertly at your strings to make you sing. You writhe beneath him, breathing hot and heavy as your stomach ties itself in knots. Floyd peppers your face with a dozen kisses before gravitating towards your neck. His teeth prick your skin in a shallow bite. The mark that’s sucked into your skin next has you hissing through grit teeth. It’s such a simple act—not nearly as pleasurable as the fingers thrust up inside you—but it still draws such a wanton moan from you.

Your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into an ocean of thoughts, imagining yourself, painted head to toe in love bites of varying severity, standing in front of a mirror to admire each one. Some could be veiled under the confidentiality of clothing, but others would be impossible to cover. Like the ones on your neck, undeniable proof of your thrilling tryst with Floyd.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your skin, needle-thin teeth catching on your shoulder. “Shrimpy’s squeezin’ my fingers suuuper tight.”

“Mm, yeah… I can’t help it. It feels—” you gasp when he presses down against your clit, those dexterous digits working you towards the bright, beautiful end— “aah… Feels so good!”

Even better now that your fantasies have finally bled into reality. You’re floating in and out of ecstasy at the perfect pace, guided by guiltless intimacy. The knots are winding themselves taut, on the verge of snapping, and you feel yourself coming undone—toes curling and lips bitten bloody while euphoria washes over you in ripples.

But then those long fingers are tugged out at once and it leaves your pussy clenching around nothing, your clit aching for attention. Tetchy and unsatisfied, your brows knitted, you lament the interruption. Your body burns and aches for proper stimulation—hungering for a release he’s so cruelly denied you.

“Fuck me. I was so close…”

“Gonna do that in a sec.”

He pulls away to shuck his pants and boxer briefs next. It’s done so fast it’s clumsy; he almost topples over in the rush. Floyd’s about to reclaim his place between your legs, but then he pauses.

“Condom,” he grumbles, a reminder more than a realization.

He leans over you to search for one amidst the junk cluttering his desk. Notwithstanding your better judgment, you grab his arm. He looks at you, and you swallow your inhibitions. Dangerous games will reward you with dangerous prizes. You know this. And yet…

“I… I wanna feel you.”

Floyd doesn’t need to be told twice. Grinning, he feels around, knocking items off in his impatience, before finally grabbing hold of a bottle of lube. He squirts a comfortable amount onto his palm and sits back to run his slick hand up his hard length. You reach down to spread yourself for his viewing pleasure, but instead he snatches your arm and flips you over onto your stomach. The change is so jarring it leaves you reeling.

“Wha—Floyd?” You crane your neck to look at him, but he pushes you back into the pillows.

“Stay there,” he says, but his voice has dropped a few decibels into something thick and husky. “Shrimpy trusts me, yeah?”

“I…do. But I wanted to look at you while—”

“Just trust me on this. I think you’ll like it.”

He rubs his palm against your flank, and you’re horrified by how easily you submit—that that’s all it takes to wheedle you into absolute obedience. With the blood rushing in your ears and your body vibrating with nervous excitement, you prop yourself on your hands and knees.

“Lemme know if it’s too much.”

“It’s okay. I can take it. Please… I’ve wanted this for so long, Floyd.”

“I can tell,” he teases, stuffing two fingers inside to open you up. The slick squelch that follows is obscene in the best way. “Shrimpy’s drownin’ my fingers. S’like an ocean.”

You bury your face in the sheets, flustered. “S-Sorry…”

“Nothin’ wrong with it. I’ve been wantin’ ya, too.” To prove this point, he seizes your hips and tugs you towards his waiting cock. It throbs against your bare cunt, and it’s so much more lewd without a rubber preventing you from feeling every prominent vein and thick inch. “I’ve always wanted you, but you never saw me.”

“You have? Do you really mean that or—”

Your question is promptly punched out of you when the fleshy head of his cock prods at your pussy, gradually pushing through rings of muscle. Inches are swallowed in slow seconds, and you suck in a sharp breath as his girth fills you. Floyd seems just as affected by the sheer bliss provided by your joined bodies, grunting behind you while your velvety heat wraps snugly around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips. Much like the stretch, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you imagined it might. It’s only awkward for the first few seconds, in which you and Floyd are both adjusting to every addictive sensation all at once.

“All good?”

You hum your approval, your head spinning. He’s inside me… And it’s not a dream.

“W-What about you?”

“Never been better,” he answers with a delirious cackle. “S’nice and soft inside. Cozy.”

He moves casually, experimental for all of one minute, before he draws back and snaps forwards. You’re pressed into the mattress when he bottoms out, the breath knocked out of your lungs in one fell swoop. Shakily, you force yourself back onto your arms. You don’t stay upright for very long, though, because the pace he adopts is brutal and unabating. As if he’s waited forever for this moment. As if you might never come back if he doesn’t pound you into the bed right now.

As if the world beyond his room is crumbling to pieces and this will be the only time either of you will ever have to love one another in solitude before horrible, heart-wrenching destruction.

A confession is so far from your mind with every sinful slap of skin on skin, and any coherent words you may have hoped to produce are replaced with loud love cries. When you fantasized about rolling around in bed with Floyd, you often imagined something soft and slow—a passionate build-up to inevitable climax. But this is nothing like that. This is raw and filthy and fast. And it’s so much better than the delusional masquerade you entertained with the phony Floyd.

Why did I ever rely on Jade in the first place? you think absently, clutching the sheets in curled fists. Floyd continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon, hunched over you as if you’re a prisoner groveling for mercy and he’s your beloved executioner.

Only rather than clean, cutthroat slaughter, you’re granted love in loads. It’s physical and sweaty and sticky. It has tears brimming your lash line and blurring your vision each time he hits all the right spots. It takes all of the complicated feelings you experienced while navigating an impossible situationship with Jade and dissolves them into nothing. Because with Jade it was wrong. It was a foolish, fickle farce. One too many meaningless trysts. A dangerous game spiraling out of control.

But with Floyd it’s right. Your world, once so off-kilter, corrects itself when he pins you down with his body, warm and toned and rough, and spears you with his cock. He’s your sweet Floyd, capriciousness and all, perfect in a way you just can’t explain.

And so you surrender to rising euphoria, strung along like fresh linens billowing in a breeze.

Amidst your own moans, Floyd’s groans, and the noisy plap of his hips against your soft ass, you make a mental note to end your arrangement with Jade at your earliest convenience. After all, you don’t need the fake when you have the real one.

I’ll miss his cooking, though.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Shrimpy?”

“No one in particul—aah!”

Floyd pinches your thigh good-naturedly. “No one at all?” His hand sweeps across your stomach next, palming the area as if he’s trying to feel himself buried in your guts. “You thinkin’ about that guy you like?”

“What if I was?”

“A damn shame for him,” he says, his hips stuttering to a halt. His hands make their rounds along your body, touring every inch of your nudity. You can’t see his face, but you can feel his searing gaze. “That guy’s not inside ya, is he?”

“Not physically, no.”

“What? Is he livin’ rent-free in Shrimpy’s head or somethin’?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Tell him to get lost. I wanna live up there.”

You giggle. “Will you pay rent?”

“Course I will.” He resumes his pace after a moment, albeit at a lazy, back-and-forth drag. You whine like a whore in heat, craving more than a slow, steady filling. “Bet that other guy isn’t even all that. Not a good rent-payer like me. Suuuper irresponsible and stuff. Late on his payments, y’know?”

“Mm, he’s perfect. Everything and more,” you mumble, your thoughts scrambled like eggs. It’s Jade you picture with your next admission even though you mean to describe Floyd. “He’s actually so charming once you—ooh—get to—haa—get to know him… He annoys me, but I don’t mind it.”

“Yeah?”

He grips your hips tighter, lifts your ass higher, and drives home in one rough thrust. His hold on you prevents you from crumpling, his fingers digging deep and leaving crescent-shaped indents in their wake. Your lashes flutter, eyes on the verge of rolling back into your skull.

“Mhm…”

“Hee-hee. Shrimpy’s so cute, falling apart on my dick… Bet that guy can’t do all of this.”

“Not at all! He can’t compare to you.”

Even though you don’t intend to, you envision Jade’s rictus grin then—the one he’d given you that night in the lounge kitchen when you challenged him to a dance. He’s so strange, but it’s a fun sort of strange. A strange that keeps you on edge, teetering on a precarious peak. He’s a deep-sea predator beneath that human veneer, cunning and crafty in spades, and he kissed you like he was in love that night.

It’s not love. It’s purely convenience, you remind yourself, stern. You like Floyd, and Jade isn’t Floyd.

“Jade—” you start to say, only to save yourself at the last minute— “Is… Mm—aah… Is Jade gonna be back soon?”

“Nah. S’just me and Shrimpy today.”

Shame sparks in your chest. What am I doing, calling out for Jade when Floyd’s here? I must be going crazy. I need to break it off as soon as possible.

You’ve been infatuated with Floyd for over a year now. One year of loyally loving Floyd. Not Jade. It’s never been and will never be Jade.

Chasing those conflictions away, you crawl out of your head to focus on the present. You push back against Floyd’s hips with bolstered determination, boring down on his dick to meet each of his wild thrusts. Within minutes, he’s all you can think of, flooding your brain like a tsunami. You’ve never felt so full and whole before—so connected. Carnal lust or romantic attraction aside, it doesn’t matter right now. Not when you’re swimming in bliss. Not when your emptiness has finally been filled.

All those tireless months of pining and hoping—it’s as if all of that was worth it when your wishes are granted in this very room. Even if you feel just somewhat clumsy with your movements, your body acting on its own accord, you’re relishing every second, sound, and sensation. So much so that you’re crying beneath him, overwhelmed beyond belief. Distantly, you hear him cooing at you, his voice a pleasant rumble.

You never want to come down from this seventh heaven, and you won’t because every moment spent with Floyd is utter rapture.

Floyd fucks you within an inch of unconsciousness, battering your slick, sensitive cunt like he intends to incapacitate you. The bedroom is filled with a sinful symphony of sounds, a litany of filth so loud you’re certain it can be heard down the hall. But that’s the last thing on your mind when the bundled feeling in your lower abdomen becomes unbearable, tightly wound and knotted. You strangle the sheets in shaking fists, tears falling freely.

And then, after leaning over you and getting as close as he possibly can, he wraps his hands around your neck. You startle.

“W-What’s wrong?”

“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?”

“Wha—no! Of course not! We’re just friends.”

“I dunno…” His fingers flex and curl inwards to apply just a little pressure. Your body stiffens, but it’s your pussy that betrays you when it clenches involuntarily. Floyd shudders against you, inhaling deeply. “You’re always smellin’ like him. Your pretty perfumes don’t do a good job coverin’ it up.”

You groan, not in the mood for this conversation. “Seriously… What is with you and smells? I’ve always smelled like me, haven’t I?”

“Can’t help it if us morays have a killer sense of smell.”

“Is it really that bothersome?”

“Would be if this was the sea.” He grips your throat with more force. Not enough to hurt you, but it has your heart spiking up into your mouth. “Guess on land it’s kinda like if you saw your special someone with another person and they were wearin’ the same shirt.”

You picture it then: Floyd with someone who isn’t you.

“Oh.”

“Yeaaah. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Then—” you’re cut off when his hands constrict, perilous like pythons— “Floyd—”

“Say you wanna smell like me instead. I’ll make you smell real nice.”

His phrasing doesn’t indicate there’s a choice in this matter, but you don’t need to waste time deliberating. Even though you don’t intend to stall, you can’t stop yourself. The question that’s been nagging at you ever since Jade shared insight on the matter—it tumbles free.

“What does smell mean to a moray? Is it—it’s like a tracker, right?”

“You’re halfway there, yeah.” His hips connect with your cushy ass, and his grip cuts into your airflow. The muscles in your neck twitch beneath his fingertips, survival instincts seizing hold. Your breath rattles in your lungs. “S’like makin’ it known. Like tellin’ everyone you’re together. Becomin’ a pair’s real special in the sea.”

A pair…

You want to ask about the significance in that statement—about the implications of togetherness and how that might apply to merfolk. Jade gave you glimpses during previous conversations, and ever since you’ve been wrangling with wanting to know more or keeping your curiosity to yourself. You could ask him, but you’re very acquainted with his smart mouth and his proclivity for stirring up unnecessary trouble. It’s better to hear it from Floyd.

But right now breathing is imperative.

“I want—need you… P-Please,” you rasp, blinking back tears.

It doesn’t hurt, but the pressure fills your head with fuzz. Combined with the agonizing drag of his dick within your walls, it feels almost freeing. Like he’s just pulled you out of your own mind to rejoice in the present with you.

“Promise you’ll be mine. Promise…” His voice wavers, and suddenly he sounds distraught. Fragile like an eroding sandcastle, he adds, “Promise you won’t look at him ever again…”

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

His hands linger for a moment longer before he releases you, content with your agreement. You inhale mouthfuls of precious, much-needed oxygen, but part of you misses the rough treatment and the feeling of his hands tightening around your throat. The idea that Floyd once held your life between his palms—that he could crush your windpipe if he so pleased—is monstrously minacious. You know you shouldn’t put your trust in Floyd’s capricious, hair-trigger behaviors, but you’ve already disregarded the risks. Safe sex be damned; you want to know love under the pressure of his thumbs, squeezed into you like he’s your only other source of air. Your savior and your star—forever your Floyd.

His lips replace his hands, stamped impatiently into your nape in bloody bites. Ribbons of warmth trickle between your shoulder blades. His hips don’t halt for a second, and it stokes the fire deep within your belly with potent insistence.

“F-Floyd, please—I’m close! I—”

“I know, Shrimpy. I gotcha.” He rubs your hip encouragingly and that’s all it takes to sweep you up in the titillating throes.

You reach your summit in the clouds with an erotic shout, your vision whiting out and arms going slack. Floyd’s groan sounds much the same when your walls clench down, and he fucks you through it mercilessly. In just a few more erratic, sloppy thrusts, in which he drives his cock as far as it can possibly go, Floyd finally empties his load deep inside. The moan that rips free from his throat is so guttural it’s nearly a growl.

You’re both so drenched in sweat, but you’re alive and vibrating with giddy, sex-drunk relief.

I love you so much, you think as you ebb away from ecstasy, pulled back like the tide.

Basking in the paradisiacal afterglow of orgasm, Floyd runs a hand through disheveled teal locks. The two of you, the sodden sheets, and even the room reeks of sex. His other hand holds you in place while he slowly ruts into you from behind, riding out the buzz in its entirety. His pelvis presses against your ass while you, knock-kneed and fucked full, drool into the pillows.

And when he slides out his spend drips from your pussy in pearly rivulets.

“Haa… Shrimpy’s the best,” he murmurs with a wicked, wild, wide-eyed smile.

You’re still panting when you come back to yourself, your head pressed into the pillow. Floyd nudges you over onto your back, and you oblige with minimal effort, lying in an exhausted sprawl. Your sight clears, color spilling in through bleary cracks.

He leans over you, assessing your hazy expression with a pleased hum. “Welcome back.”

You giggle and beckon him closer. “I’m back.”

Floyd leans down to kiss you and you reciprocate just as fiercely, your arms looping around his neck. You fall all over again, enchanted by molten kisses and wandering hands. The magic dissipates when your ringtone resounds, and you manage to tear yourself away by the third chime.

“Sorry. Let me silence it.”

“Kaaay.”

Floyd lounges on his side, the duvet draped across his hips. You crawl out of his arms to sort through the disorder on the floor. As you bend over to retrieve it, you catch him staring, his eyes following the length of your legs to the mess spattered between your thighs.

He flashes his sharp teeth at you in a broad, nonchalant grin. “It’s a pretty ass. I like what I like.”

You hold your phone up, smirking. “Pictures last longer.”

“And memories don’t, so you’d better stop by often so I won’t forget.”

“It’s a promise,” you tease, glancing at the screen as it brightens with a slew of missed messages. They’re all from Ace, and you scroll through them with mild interest. Apparently, Ace got into an argument with Grim over the pudding in the fridge. Both want it even though it has your name on it, and now Ace is being much too flattering in an effort to curry favor so that you’ll be inclined to let him have it. “He’s unbelievable…”

“Who is?”

“Ace.”

You sit on the edge of Floyd’s bed. He reads the texts over your shoulder and snorts. “Crabby tryin’ to get on your good side, huh?”

“Not sure why he’s bothering to ask, though. He steals food from me all the time. This shouldn’t be any different.”

“Maybe he likes ya.”

“As if. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah? You say that a lot.”

You crane your neck to look at him. “Do I really?”

“Mhm. If you and Jade are also ‘just friends,’ what does that make me and you?”

“I… Um. Hm.”

You watch your reflection on your darkened phone screen as it twists into something pensive. Tentatively, your fingers trace over the smooth glass. What are you and Floyd? You’re friends, but you’re also more than that. Surely, right? Friends don’t join their bodies in unholy communion. Or do they? That’s what you’ve done with Jade and you’re nowhere near romantically attached. Perhaps your relationship is some nebulous stage between friends and lovers?

Does Floyd even like me like that, or was this just a spur-of-the-moment fling?

“I…should go,” you say instead, standing up.

“Aww. But ya just got here. C’mon. Lemme get ya some water or somethin’ to eat. There’s no rush.” He reaches out for you, but you step back. His face falls. “Shrimpy…”

“Sorry. I just—it’s not your fault.” You refuse to meet his eyes as you collect your clothes from the floor, hurrying to dress yourself. “Thanks for the offer. Really, I appreciate it and this was a lot of fun. But I… I need to get back to make sure Ace and Grim don’t tear each other apart over a single cup of pudding.”

The fresh bites on your neck sting when your clothes brush against them, but nothing hurts more than Floyd’s downcast expression. You don’t want to leave, but you can’t stay and tiptoe around the answer to a question you’ve just started contemplating.

“We’ll talk later. Sorry…” You shuffle towards the door, tongue-tied and awkward. “I really did enjoy this.”

To your disappointment, Floyd doesn’t make any attempt to pursue. “See ya.”

“Yeah… See ya.”

You step out into the hall, the door shutting after you. The weight of it all comes crashing down like a disastrous surge of sea and you drag your hands over your face to stifle your regretful groan.

I messed up. I should’ve just confessed. The opportunity was right there, so why didn’t I? Why can’t I? What the hell is holding me back?

No, not a what. Rather, a who.

And you can’t bear to confront that.

Behind the door, sitting upright on Floyd’s bed, Jade musses his hair until that stray dark strand falls in its rightful place. There’s laundry to be done, and a clever cover-up must be fashioned to protect what already seems like an open secret. But right now he can’t be bothered to spring into action. Not when he’s still steeping in post-sex exhilaration, a corybantic smile etching itself onto his face.

It’s a glorious day.

“Can’t ya just dump it out if ya don’t wanna drink it?” Grim, who has spent the past three minutes observing you observing the glass vial, suggests with a harrumph. “Looks fishy. I don’t wanna drink it and I love drinkin’ stuff!”

You frown and lift it towards the window; the sun catches off the shiny surface, but its rays don’t break through murky cerulean. “Azul said I could add any part of myself to this and it would work. I added saliva, but the color went from white to this icky, impenetrable blue. It probably tastes just as bad as it looks. Gross! Now I’m not so sure I wanna uphold my end of our deal.”

“He’ll never know if you give it the slip.”

You fix Grim with a disapproving glower. “He’ll definitely know. He’s Azul.”

“I dunno what to tell ya, but if we keep chattin’ away like this we’ll miss first bell.” He hops off of the stool, lands perfectly on all fours, and struts out of the kitchen.

“Since when were you such a star student? Wait… First bell?” You gasp and dash past him. “Move, Grim! I’ll miss Floyd if I don’t hurry!”

On your way out, you tug your shoes on, taking care not to trip in your haste, and stuff the vial in your pocket.

“Jeez! Way to be a ‘star student’ and leave me to haul our heavy textbooks to Trein’s class!”

“Sorry! I’ll make it up to you at lunch! This is really important!” you call out, hurrying down the steps.

You’re breathless by the time you make it into the main building, taking in great gulps of air. A few students turn and stare, but you don’t pay them any mind as you weave through the crowded halls in search of Floyd’s classroom. You spot him then, lingering at the end of the corridor, and you hasten your gait to reach him.

“Floyd, oh, there you are! I need to talk to you. It’s about—”

“A good morning to you, too, (Name).”

Horrified, you come to a screeching halt. “Jade… Shit, I’m sorry. I thought that you—I mean, you look like Floyd from afar… Well, of course you do. What am I saying?” Inhaling a deep breath, you try again. “I don’t have time to talk. I gotta find Floyd. Also, our deal’s off. You don’t have to act like him anymore.”

“Oh my. How sudden. I wonder what brought this on.” He smiles behind a gloved fist. “Do enlighten me.”

Fidgeting from foot to foot, you glance left and right. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve been a big help, but I’ve figured it out now. It was stupid and inconsiderate of me to make you pretend to be someone you’re not. So the game’s over. We can go our separate ways and all of this—” you gesture between him and you— “will be behind us. Done and dusted. Dead and buried. Part of the past.”

Jade tilts his head, playing clueless for another second before he decides to let it click. “Ah. I suppose this means you intend to confess? In that case, please don’t let me stop you. Floyd’s already left for his class. I doubt he’s gone very far.”

You’re already pushing past him, your nerves riddled with hope. “Thanks! See you around!”

“It was an enjoyable month.”

Taking pause, you turn to look at him. Even though his hand is across his chest and he’s issuing you a cordial smile, you can’t tell if he’s being truthful. It can’t have been all that enjoyable to play such an elaborate part. Or perhaps it’s not the part but rather the delights that came with it: dinner, conversation, and companionship. If it weren’t for these unorthodox methods, you and Jade wouldn’t be nearly as close as you are now.

Somehow you’ve become friends in all of this chaos.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. It was definitely…a month.”

Before awkwardness can balloon between the both of you, you step into a sprint and disappear around the corner. Confidence swells within you. Now that you’ve emptied your mind of Jade, you can focus entirely on Floyd and your very impromptu confession.

There really wasn’t anything there after all, you think as you round another corner. I can’t believe I got worked up over something so silly, and it was completely nonexistent!

As if foretold by fate itself, a meeting strung in the stars, you notice Floyd at the end of the hall. Unable to contain yourself, you run the rest of the way to catch him. The morning bell resounds then and students heed its toll, filing into their respective classrooms. But you’re here for someone who’s so much better than your perfect attendance record, and he happens to be looking your way.

“Hey, it’s Shrimpy! Whatcha up to?”

“Morning, Floyd! Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could talk.”

He nods. “Wasn’t really feelin’ class anyways.”

“Yeah, same here!”

“So what’s up? You have somethin’ to tell me?”

“Right! Yes!”

I have to tell him. I can’t keep running away.

“It’s about that day… Um. I… First of all, I’d like to apologize for being weird and ruining the mood. I didn’t know how to explain our relationship, but I’ve sorted it out now. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be more than friends.”

Floyd blinks at you, stone-faced. That can’t be a good sign.

Endeavoring to salvage this one-sided chat, you attempt to elaborate on your previous declaration. “You asked what we were that day and I… I couldn’t give you an answer because I was scared of admitting it, and I had no idea where we’d go from there. The truth is—I really like you. A lot. I have for a while now, and if you like me I wouldn’t mind making it official.”

You’re doing fine, you tell yourself, but you’re wringing your hands and Floyd won’t stop looking at you like you’ve grown fins.

“Oh, I get it,” he says after a long moment. “So Shrimpy likes me? That right?”

You nod. Anxiety squeezes your heart in a fierce fist.

“I’m flattered. Not every day a li’l Shrimpy tells me she’s got a thing for me.” Floyd grins and stuffs his hands in his pockets. You’ve imagined this same scenario a dozen times, but your brain never accounted for how casual he’s acting. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t accept your feelings.”

“W-What?”

You…misheard him, right? He didn’t just say that, did he?

“I think you’re super cool, but that’s it.” He shrugs. “S’better stayin’ friends, ain’t it? ’Sides, you and Jade are pretty close. Not gonna lie, I thought you were a pair this whole time. Didn’t know it was this serious, though.”

Much like the blood pumping through your veins, your heart freezes over. “N-No… No, not at all! Jade and I are just friends.”

“C’mon, Shrimpy. I’m not stupid.”

“I… I don’t understand. Floyd, we… We…” You swallow encroaching tears and bolster the ebbing strength in your voice. “Did our time together mean anything to you?”

“Course it did! Still does. We’re friends. That’s not gonna change.” Floyd cards a hand through his hair and sighs. “Shrimpy, you’re great and all, but if you’re with Jade you don’t gotta lie to me. I’ve been smellin’ him on ya since day one.”

“But we’re not together!” He raises a disbelieving brow, and you groan. “I’m serious. I don’t know why I smell like him. We don’t wear the same perfumes. Wait. Does Jade even wear perfume? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about it. So maybe you’re just smelling my perfume! That has to be the reason—”

Floyd gives your shoulder a consoling squeeze. “I’m not mad or anything. S’cool if you wanna mess around with Jade. I don’t care what you do.” His face darkens with a frown. “Just don’t lie about the obvious.”

“But I’m not lying! We’re not an item or couple—whatever it’s called! I… I like you, Floyd. I always have.”

“Maybe ya shoulda figured that out before ya started lettin’ Jade mark ya.”

Shock and revulsion prickle your skin. You open your mouth to object, but every rational explanation remains jumbled. Floyd issues you a lopsided grin, which adds even more salt to an already gaping wound.

“Hey, if it makes ya feel any better, Jade’s a good guy. He’ll look out for ya. ’Sides, Shrimpy’s better off with a responsible type.” He reaches out to ruffle your hair, but you step away.

All of those times where you thought Floyd may have been courting—the flirty remarks, the perfume, the kiss, and even the sex—were those merely platonic gestures twined with friendly affection? You may have been able to believe the others, but you’re certain there’s a line between platonic and romantic. And sex must fall in the latter category. It has to. If not, was it all just temporary, fleeting fun?

Were you just an experience for Floyd and his mercurial mannerisms? A new toy for his enjoyment, intended to occupy his mind for however long you proved your worth and shelf life.

You turn swiftly on your heel, your throat closing up. “T-Thanks for hearing me out, at least,” you mutter, blinking away hot tears. “I… I’ll see you later.”

If you weren’t so devastated, you’d have commended yourself for your impeccable restraint. You manage to walk away without sparing him a single glance, but the minute you’re out of sight and earshot you’re running through the desolate halls, seeking solace in solitude. The tears come with the ache, a pain so gutting it has you near-wailing as you navigate labyrinthe passages. You hardly care if any straggling students spot you. You’re too crestfallen to fret over what others might think when they look at you.

Heartache headlines your thoughts as you stumble into a stagger, your chest heaving from the run and your excessive bawling.

I know it was stupid to have hope, but I was so positive I had a chance… It seemed that way when we slept together, so what happened? What changed? You wipe furiously at your face, but it does nothing to stop the incessant downpour. This is a mess. I never should’ve confessed. I did everything wrong. And what’s worse is he didn’t take me seriously because he thinks I’m dating his brother!

It doesn’t make any sense, but then this drastic change of heart is so characteristic for Floyd that you struggle to think of any other valid causation.

Did he get bored of me? Am I really that terrible to hang out with? You shake your head. It’s not that. It’s Jade and his stupid scent and that stupid marking and—

You feel the vial in your pocket then, straining against form-fitting fabric. Sniffling weakly, you dig it out and peer at your blotchy-eyed reflection in the glass.

I might as well see what this potion does. I have nothing else to lose, and there’s no way I can go to class looking like this.

As if your body was subconsciously aware of your decision to skip, you find yourself standing in the Mirror Chamber minutes later. Quiet and dimly lit, the room has a certain coldness to it when you venture further inside and approach the Dark Mirror. Your distressed face blinks back at you from the blank surface, and you cringe once you notice the smudges in your makeup.

“I’m such a loser,” you mutter, scrubbing at your cheeks. “Crying like a baby over some guy…”

A guy who meant the world to me. A guy who was so much more than just some guy.

You yank the cork out of the vial and, steeling yourself, chug it in one determined gulp. It goes down bitter, tainting your tongue with a foul, brackish aftertaste. Disgusted, you wipe your lips and stuff the empty glass in your pocket.

“(Name)?”

You whirl, half-expecting to find Floyd waiting to accept you with open arms. Instead, Jade stands in the doorway. His brows are knit in concern. Authentic concern, you realize. Tears overflow at the sight of him, tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks.

“I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“You are. Go away.”

Undeterred, Jade covers the distance to reach you. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but notice you seem to be in dire need of a friend.”

You force out a sardonic laugh. “Right. Because you’re just the friend I want.”

“At the very least, may I offer my condolences? I can only assume the worst after seeing the state you’re in.”

“You just did. Now leave. I don’t want to see anyone right now, especially not you.” But he isn’t offended by the hostility in your voice. Rather, he procures a handkerchief from his uniform pocket and offers it to you. Heaving a defeated groan, you snatch it and blow your nose into the soft linen. “I don’t suppose you want something in return for your kindness?”

“Not at all. If anything, I merely wish to see your happy, dry face.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll feel much better once you get lost.”

“And leave you to mourn all by your lonesome? I couldn’t possibly.”

You dab at your eyes with the sodden, snotty handkerchief. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Jade smiles and bumps hips with you. “If it’s worth anything, there is so mush-room in my heart for you.”

Your face scrunches with odium. “Ew… That’s so cheesy.” You’re reminded of Floyd when you look at him, and it fills you with another bout of anguish. Why can’t he be Floyd? You bury your face in your hands and sob. “This is the worst! I wanna disappear. Drown in the Coral Sea and get lost forever. Then no one would ever have to see me like this and I’ll never have to face Floyd again.”

“Surely you don’t mean that.”

“I do. Now leave me be. I wanna wallow in peace.” When you fail to hear his shoes clicking against tile, you peek at him through the cracks in your fingers. “It’s hopeless, Jade. Floyd doesn’t feel the same. There’s still no way for me to go home. And now I don’t even know if Azul’s potion is going to work, which means I’ll be breaching our contract!”

“Quite the series of unfortunate events, no?”

“So please just go away.”

Sighing, you press your fingertips to the Dark Mirror’s warped surface and admire the ripples spreading outward from where your palm rests. It’s almost hypnotic, drawing you in with its alluring opacity. You lean closer to inspect the cloudy mirage, placing both hands against it, but that proves to be a grave mistake. Tugged in by some invisible force, you stumble and fall through. You don’t have time to scramble to safety, for there’s a blinding flash of light and then you’re engulfed in smothering silence.

You feel it first—the weightless cradling of waves—and when you open your eyes a stunning seascape greets you. The sandy floor and colorful coral reefs extend in endless stretches. Schools of fish pass overhead in a mosaic of hues. You gape at your mystical surroundings, realize you’re underwater right as the awe settles in, and hurry to swim to the surface. But when you try to kick your legs out, a tail moves instead, sloppily propelling you upwards. You somersault and flail like you’re falling, but you aren’t drowning. In fact, you can breathe.

Whoa. This is so strange. How exactly do I swim?

It takes an awkward minute for you to get a hold of your bearings, but once you do you take stock of your newfound mer anatomy. Your hands are webbed, fingers curling into sleek, sharp claws, and fins protrude from your arms and back. They flutter like fine skirts in the current. Your tail is just as fetching; speckled with red and pink shades, it matches the coloration found on your other fins.

“So that’s what Azul’s potion does,” you mutter, flexing your tail. “Amazing…”

You feel along your body for scales and gills, yelping when your fingers brush over the latter. They’re soft and sensitive, shuddering in the current.

I’m a mer…

It finally sinks in, and you roll around in the sand, whooping and shouting in excitement.

“I’m a mer! How cool is that?!”

You push off from the sea floor, testing your new tail with a few clumsy strokes. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t take very long for you to learn the motions. Within minutes you’re gliding through the water like a bullet. You hug the bottom of the ocean, running your fingers through the sand as you swim expert circles around the same rock formation.

Suddenly, your broken heart doesn’t feel so cumbersome anymore. Your tears mix in pelagic waters, but after touring your vast surroundings for a while you can’t even tell if you’re still crying. While keeping up with the current, you swim past an octopus who drags itself across the sandy floor, its muddy-orange tentacles curling like snakes.

“So pretty,” you whisper, smiling sadly. “I wish Floyd was here…”

It hurts.

There’s no way to circumvent the pain without further opening the emotional lacerations left by rejection and misunderstanding. If you had smelled like yourself, would he have accepted your confession? Would the two of you be walking through the halls, holding hands and chatting like a couple? Or would it have played out the same regardless of Jade’s involvement with you?

If Floyd never loved you to begin with, that would mean all of your practice confessions and subsequent embarrassment were for naught. Maybe Jade was right and this entire thing was nothing more than an amusing spectacle.

Thanks a lot, Jade, you think, seething. Instinctively, you scrub your tears away even though there’s no point to it when you’re surrounded by water. How did I even start smelling like him in the first place? We didn’t wear the same shirt or anything like that… Ugh. Morays are so confusing.

But, gripe and whine as you might, there’s nothing you can do to change an immutable fact: Floyd does not love you.

And it really hurts.

You know the sadness will soon subside and, months later, you’ll look back on this very moment and laugh about your misfortune. Despite that, the passage of time and its healing properties don’t provide an iota of relief.

Don’t think about it anymore. You turn over on your back and float through the water. Since I’m here, I should gather the supplies Azul wanted.

You rack your brain for the list and come up empty. It’s then when you realize Azul never shared this list with you and that, had you visited him prior to your emotional tragedy, he likely would have told you.

“Damn it! Now how am I supposed to get what he wants?” you complain, thrashing your tail as if it’s your legs and you’re trying to throw a tantrum. “I could guess… Or maybe he wants a little of everything?”

You attempt to put yourself in Azul’s head, concentrating on all of the spell ingredients you’ve learned in alchemy class, but none of them seem to fit what Azul might be seeking. After all, anyone can acquire seaweed and shells and mer’s tears. Azul must be after the scarcities of the sea. What those scarcities could be, you haven’t the faintest inkling.

The sea floor slopes down, and you follow the dip towards what looks to be the yawning mouth of an underwater grotto. It certainly looks so with its massive stalactites and stalagmites, which reminds you of the crooked maw of a beast. It would have been a foreboding sight if you came down here with a limited supply of oxygen and scuba fins, but you’re a mer and nothing can startle you. Not even the depths at which you exist.

You poke your head inside the opening. Before you can investigate any further, though, a shadow passes overhead. It slips through the water like a silent assassin. You’re not unnerved when you track the length of the perimeter, looking to and fro for the mysterious figure you caught in your peripheral, but the longer you spend looking the quieter your surroundings become.

The fish scatter.

And then terror descends, only he’s a familiar one. He’d be a sight for sore eyes if he wasn’t such an eyesore.

“You’re living up to your surname.”

He smiles, teeth glinting. “My, my. Aren’t you just tickled pink?”

“Which is weird because all I see is red when I look at you.”

“Is that so? The depth at which we’re at swallows most vibrancy, and yet you remain wonderfully bright. Are you sure you’re not a fallen star?”

You fix him with a nasty glare, but it does nothing to deter him. “Seriously… Why are you here?”

He circles you, his serpentine body winding slowly. “Would you believe me if I told you I came to check on you?”

“Depends. What’s your reason for checking on me?”

“As I’m sure you know, Azul is not partial to insolvency.”

You slide past him, smacking him with your caudal fin. “Good to know I’m so cherished.”

“I wouldn’t dare let a dear friend drown. I’ve heard drowning is very miserable business for humans.”

“More miserable than a broken heart?”

He catches up to you. His size easily overtakes you in length and strength, marking him as a formidable predator. Even with your claws, you can’t compete with his pointed teeth, sleek, sturdy build, and razored fins. He’s a natural hunter, whereas you feel like more of an ornamental fish in comparison.

“Depends. Will you recover from death?”

“I’ve spent so much time with you, so I’d say it’s possible.”

“And I was ready to save you should you find yourself in peril.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s about as comforting as a blatant lie.”

A few beats pass between the both of you. You don’t try to fill the silence, too busy fawning over your aquatic surroundings to bother. Jade analyzes you with furtive glimpses.

“I’m aware our deal is void and that I’m no longer your Floyd…” He swims closer, nudging you with his shoulder. “May I be your Jade instead? You can be my grouper.”

“Your what?”

“Many mages believe transformation potions provide insight into what species you may have been if you weren’t born in your current form.”

“So you’re saying, if I was a mer like you and Floyd, I’d be a…grouper? Is that what I am?”

“A strawberry grouper, to be precise. Very fitting, is it not?”

“Would Floyd like me better if I had been born a grouper instead of a human?”

Jade laughs. You swat at him in flustered retaliation. “It has nothing to do with species.”

“It has everything to do with species,” you snap with a scowl. “Wasn’t the mermaid princess forbidden from pursuing a relationship with her human prince?”

“That’s true, yes. Although I fail to see your point, considering it worked out in the end.”

“What I’m saying is—if we were both mers, maybe it’d be easier.”

“I suppose it would be considerably easier to foster a deeper bond if you lived in the sea alongside us, but I’m afraid love doesn’t always work like that.”

“How would you know?”

Jade gazes heavenward, and for the first time you see sadness in his sharp, intelligent eyes. “I’ve fallen in love with the moon and she is forever out of my reach, so I know what it’s like to wish on something that may never happen. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if the dismal nature of my situation would change if I had been the singular star in her universe. Perhaps then she would finally see me.” He glances at you and attempts a smile. “There are galaxies of stars up there, but the star she fancies happens to shine brighter than me.”

Oh… So he does know what that feels like.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. I guess it just felt like the right thing to say.” Your shoulders rise in a weak shrug. “The moon is impossible, Jade. Your romance is doomed.”

“All the more reason to appreciate her.”

“Why haven’t you given up?”

Jade swims ahead, humming his contemplation. “There are astounding amounts of everything in this world. There will always be plenty of fish in the sea—just as there will always be plenty of humans on land. But there is only one of her. So even if she doesn’t look at me, even if our romance has been doomed from the start, I will never stop loving her. She’s the only one in my universe.”

“Huh… That’s a beautiful way to put it. If it’ll help, I can act like her and you could practice your confession.”

“We’ve come full circle. Perhaps a confession wouldn’t hurt… Ah. Forgive me for adding to your despondency with my own woes.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” But then you reflect on his familiar phrasing and a sneaking suspicion crawls into your head. Unwilling to confront it, you change the subject. “So what’s the real reason you’re here? To watch me struggle to collect all of these unnamed things for Azul?”

“I considered that, but it would be much too cruel of me to subject you to such ridicule.”

“You’re an asshole. Just tell me what I’m supposed to get.”

With a chuckle, Jade rattles off every item. You recognize some of them—pearls, starfish, a Great White’s tooth—but the rest are resources you’ve never even heard of.

“Noctiluca… What’s that?”

“Bioluminescent algae.”

“Oh. Are you sure we’ll be able to find all of this stuff? Some of it sounds, like, super rare.”

“It’s possible. With me as your guide—”

“You’re really going to stick around?”

“And let you swim right into the maw of a predator? I’m not monstrous.”

“You sure you’re not that predator?”

Jade swims ahead, craning his neck to eye you hungrily. His lengthy tail curls around you and squeezes playfully. “Shall I hunt you now and we can determine which of us is the true predator?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“It’s simply a hypothetical.”

“Why would we even hunt each other in the first place?” You duck down to sift through the silt for shells or, if you’re lucky, a shark’s tooth. “I thought we had something.”

“Do we?”

It’s too late for you to take that back. “We have mutualism,” you correct yourself, pulling a palm-sized pink conch from the sand.

“Some might call that friendship, (Name).”

“Friends with you? As if. You’d trade me for this shell just because it’s funny.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re worth more than one, at least.” Jade joins you on the seabed, his larger, webbed hands searching alongside yours. “Your companionship is invaluable to me.” His hand bumps yours in the sand, blackened fingertips twining with yours.

“You know… Floyd told me something.” You grip his hand tightly to prevent him from retreating. With the way he perks up, muscles stretched taut with anticipation, you don’t think he intends to flee. “He said you’re awfully touchy with me and that you’re not usually like this.”

“You provide me with the most entertaining reactions. Besides—” his voice lowers for effect— “was touch not the foundation of our deal?”

“Not anymore.” You release his hand from your hold and dart forwards. “Although I guess it was kinda pointless. All of that just to be rejected by Floyd in the end.” You round on him once he’s within your proximity, prodding his chest with a claw. “Because now he thinks I’m dating you. Apparently I smell like you. I have no idea what that could mean, but it obviously isn’t a good thing if it’s one of the reasons Floyd turned me down.”

“Plenty of mers scent their partners. It’s territorial—a means of proving to others that they’re a bonded pair. It’s also convenient when they need to locate their beloved in a crowd.”

The conch falls from your hands, floating back to its resting place on the sandy floor. Shocked, you pin him with a wide-eyed stare. “You… You’ve been…scenting me?”

He nods.

“On purpose?”

“Just for fun.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. So Jade sabotaged your chances with Floyd. Jade did. All for fun. Jade was scenting you on the sly. For fun. Fun!

Now you’re really viewing him in scarlet.

“Jade Leech, I’m going to kill you!” You lunge at him, blunt teeth bared and claws out. He opens his arms to receive you, smiling all the while. “You did that on purpose—to prevent me from getting with Floyd! What the fuck?!”

You crash into him, and the impact sends the two of you tumbling through the water in a tangle of limbs. He indulges in this one-sided snafu, albeit without the hostility you’re so clearly demonstrating. Jade wraps himself around you to hold you still while you attempt to gouge his eyes.

Soon, the scrap mellows out into a struggle for escape. You try to slip out of his constrictive grasp, but every time you think you might have attained freedom he tightens his hold on you. Eventually, with no other way out, you submit, deflating in his arms like a popped balloon.

“If you wanted a hug, you could have asked. There’s no need to be so circuitous about it.”

“The last thing I want is a hug from you! Now let go of me!” He allows you to squirm out of his coils. You swim in circles, which you now realize is the mer equivalent of pacing. “I can’t believe you. What did you have to gain from any of this? ‘Just for fun,’ my foot! You just wanted to ruin my life like the stupid, asshole eel you are!”

“I was hoping to cushion you after the inevitable.” Jade tilts his head at you, feigning sympathy. “Did you really think Floyd would have reciprocated? You heard him yourself. He considers you a friend. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Cushion me? The only thing you did was make me smell like I rolled around in the cushions with you!” You swipe at him, but he moves away on reflex. “If Floyd sees me as a friend, why would he sleep with me?”

“So that’s why our room smelled so thickly of you.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Then don’t ask dumb questions.”

He’s the worst, you think, repeating it like a mantra. The worst. The worst. The worst.

But then he’s the only one who chases after you even when you push him away.

At that, you laugh. Jade blinks at you, startled by your sudden shift in attitude.

“This is a mess,” you bewail, shaking your head. “Out of all the people at NRC, I can’t believe you’re the one seeing me like this.”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Shut up.”

Jade chuckles. “You may find it undesirable, but to me it’s quite the charming trait. Even at your worst, tears and all, you’re still yourself. It’s what I admire most about you.” He approaches you, minding the icy vitriol in your scowl, and cups your cheek. “After all, did we not agree to be a mess together?”

You meet his mismatched stare, openly admiring his well-sculpted body and the patterns striped along his arms and tail. There isn’t an ounce of Floyd to his mannerisms. From the way he carries himself to the purr of his voice to the irritating quips he loves to spout, he’s Jade. And you wouldn’t have him any other way. He is your friend, and denial isn’t enough to convince you otherwise of this dysfunctional, disorganized friendship.

Sighing, you tear your gaze away. “We’re a mess, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with smelling like you! That’s such a dirty trick!”

“I can be dirtier if it pleases.”

“It does not please! Start counting your blessings so I can properly kick your ass!”

“I wish you luck in that endeavor,” he says, offering you a toothy grin before turning away and propelling himself towards the surface.

You watch him go, debating whether it’s worth it to pursue him. This feels like the beginning of another game, but you can’t calculate the danger level. It’s the ocean; the possibilities are just as vast.

You’re an enigma, Jade Leech. I’ll never understand you.

Leaving all thoughts of Floyd and your shattered heart on land—stowed away in the shadows of the Mirror Chamber—you accept his proposal for a chase. He doesn’t have to tell you he’s pleased when you zip after him, weaving through the tight crevices and openings in hulking rock formations. Your shadow eclipses colorful coral reefs and tall seagrass. Jade moves much smoother and quicker than you, sensing all of the twists and turns before they even come up.

Of course he’d be a natural, you think, impressed with his graceful slither. He grew up in these waters playing tag. He and Floyd have probably chased each other through places just like this one hundreds of times.

Still, you aren’t about to let your inexperience get in the way of capturing him.

Between your on-off hunt and collecting ingredients for Azul, in which Jade goads you into continuing the chase when you least expect it, time passes above. You’re not sure how far into the day you are, as your surroundings hardly change beneath the surface, but you forget all about it when you swim through a kelp forest in hopes of finding a starfish. Even with your heightened mer senses and predatory assets, you keep close to Jade as the both of you glide through strands of kelp.

“When I was an elver, I used to believe starfish were stars who fell from outer space.”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. Everything seems much louder in tranquility. “Oh. Uh. Why’s that?”

“My mother often told us that merfolk who have passed on become stars in the sky and that there are times in which those same stars yearn for the sea. But they can never hope to return naturally, for they are bound to the sky. Thus, they force themselves to fall, lose their shine when they land in the ocean, and become sea stars.”

You keep your eyes glued on the stretching forest ahead. “That’s neat. I probably would’ve believed that story if I was a mer. We tell all kinds of stories about merfolk where I’m from.”

“Is that so?”

“Merfolk don’t exist in my world, so they make for great legends.”

“A world in which merfolk are nonexistent… How fascinating.” Jade gazes at you, his hand twitching towards yours. Rather than acting on his innermost desires, he curls his hand into a fist and it hangs limply at his side. “You must have been over the moon to have met Floyd.”

“And you and Azul!” you add with a smile. “And I have you to thank for teaching me all about moray mers.”

“I’d be happy to teach you more, should you be willing to learn…”

Jade’s looking at your lips next. The both of you are so close. Just a little closer and you could…

“Hey, I think I see a starfish!” You hurry ahead before the tension can become any more magnetizing.

Do not make him your rebound, you lambaste while retrieving the star-shaped creature. If you had legs, you’d kick some sense into yourself. Just because he looks like Floyd doesn’t mean he is Floyd.

You bring the starfish back to Jade, who bottles it in a bubble and whisks it away with a flick of his wrist. You’re not sure where any of these items are going or how he’s keeping track of them, but as long as they’re gathered you aren’t going to question it. Magic works in mysterious ways, or so you’ve determined after spending a year of your life in Twisted Wonderland.

From there, you return to your place at Jade’s side, albeit with a healthier distance than before, and exit the kelp forest. You scan the vast vicinity as if you might find something unusual amidst all of this blue. It reminds you of every Floyd fantasy you’ve ever had—the ones in which you were living happily ever after in the sea. As ideal as those delusions were, you realize now that they were just as impossible as Jade’s infatuation with the moon.

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” you admit, to which Jade hums his acknowledgment. “What would I do if Crowley was able to send me home? How could I choose between my loved ones there and my loved ones here?”

“Perhaps you’ll never have to choose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Supposing the headmage is shirking his investigation… Well, that would certainly eliminate the difficulty of choice.”

You laugh. “The first magicless student to graduate from Night Raven College. What a headline.”

“Sensational news,” he adds in a dramatic tone.

“As if the illustrious NRC and the oh-so-kind Headmage couldn’t get any popular.”

Jade chuckles. “Have you thought that far ahead?”

“What? About the future?” You slide into a somersault while Jade swims above you. He stares down at you as you spin yourself dizzy. “Don’t want to. I have no idea where I’ll be after graduation or what I’ll do. It kinda scares me.”

“You’re more than welcome to lean on me should you ever require my assistance.”

“What’s that thing Azul always says? Pay the heavy toll to cross the bridge? I’d like to graduate debt-free, thank you very much.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You blink up at him, shocked by his benign declaration. After a moment of floating aimlessly on your back while he swims overheard, you giggle. “Come on. Be real, Jade. That’s impossible.”

“Is it? You’re a mermaid, are you not?”

“Yeah, but that’s temporary. Besides, a deal like that is way too mutualistic. We’d just seem like obligations to one another.”

“Must it be transactional?”

“What else would it be?”

“A friendly favor.”

“I don’t trust that… Somewhere along the line I’ll get trapped in a scam.”

“And I will rescue you.”

You roll your eyes and turn over on your stomach, propelling yourself forwards in hopes of leaving him and this conversation behind. He mirrors your slow pace, twisting himself to loop around so that you’re above and he’s below. He waves. You groan.

He just won’t quit, will he?

“Okay, let’s be hypothetical. Say I accept your help for the future. What would you want in return?”

“What indeed?”

“I doubt you’ll want a lifelong taste-tester.”

He shakes his head, soft, teal locks swaying with the motion. Bathed in dappled light, he looks breathtaking. Too good to be true. An echo of the supernal, enchanting and arresting in that weird, whimsical way you’ve grown to appreciate.

He’s so annoying.

“Then what, Jade? Stop being obtuse.”

He smiles, sharp features softening, and says, “I would like to continue being your friend.”

“That’s all?”

He nods. “That’s all.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, what do you think I might want?” He reaches for you, his hands running up your arms to tug you closer. “If I asked for your hand, would you give it?”

You float above him, not quite chest to chest yet. “Marital mutualism, huh?”

“It’s cost-effective and comes with many benefits.”

“Like?”

“You could be my taste-tester indefinitely. I would cook for you every day. All of your favorite foods, and you can share your critique.”

“You’re not selling it,” you mutter, impassive.

He pulls you within kissing distance. “You can continue to hone your techniques with me.”

You open your mouth to retort, embarrassment scraping at your throat, but a distant twinkle in the dimming depths distracts you. There’s another flash of light and then, seconds later, dozens of lights surround you. You swim out of his grasp to explore this curiosity, your confusion segueing into excitement once you spy hundreds of bright tendrils. Moon jellyfish illuminate the area, casting you and Jade in bewitching bioluminescence. You whirl to view all of them at once, your eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s amazing…” you whisper.

Jade observes you from where he lurks in the shadows below, a wistful look in his stare. It adds deceptive age to his youthful features, but you don’t notice that. Bold and brave, you venture deeper into the fray, weaving through the fantastical cluster with finesse. The jellyfish hang suspended in the gloom, and they remind you of little lanterns the further you swim. This sight is a treasured rarity—something you’d never be able to experience firsthand like this if you were viewing it through thick aquarium glass.

This view is breathtaking! I can’t believe Jade and Floyd grew up in such a wonderful place.

On any other day, the boundless sea may have terrified you if you were reading about it in a textbook or watching divers’ found footage. But right now you’re in awe of these magnificent creatures as they drift in calm currents. Your first visit in the Coral Sea had been on a strict time crunch, and you hadn’t gotten the chance to explore any further than the grounds of the Atlantica Memorial Museum. The second visit had been one of leisure, if only because you were no longer arranging gambles with Azul in an effort to free the anemones. And now you’ve returned, equipped with fins and the promise of unforgettable sights.

And Jade’s with you.

He was there for your previous times, too, his presence mostly unremarkable. While you were loving Floyd from afar, he was there. You’ve always wondered why he stayed and entertained your mischief. You’re not anyone’s dream girl; you’ve never been the first choice, and that’s a part of life you’ve made peace with.

When you’re with Jade, you’re made the first and last choice. The only choice.

“Jade, are you seeing this? It’s so pretty! You’re—” you turn and almost bump heads. He’s so close and— “glowing…”

“My, my. Is that a bona fide compliment?”

“No. I’m serious. You’re glowing!”

He’s something of an angler with his mesmerizing markings. The patterns on his body are bright with a shocking luminosity, so radiant that you lose all interest in the jellyfish. You’re transfixed by him, and it’s purely instinct when you seize his hands to inspect them. He shrinks away, diffident.

“Ah. So it would seem… Forgive me for outshining the jellyfish.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re being weird.” Releasing him, you orbit him like he’s the sun and you’re a spellbound planet. He continues to pack himself into something small. “Are you not supposed to glow?”

“This is a perfectly normal facet of moray mer behavior.”

“So then what’s up? You’re avoiding me.” It hits you then, and a wide grin cuts into your cheeks. “Are you…embarrassed?”

Jade flushes up to his fins. You didn’t think it was possible, but the intensity at which he glows increases. “I fear I may have underestimated my own biology.”

“This is new! Jade Leech acting shy? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

He forces a hollow chuckle. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

“What was?”

“This is the culmination of any mer’s attraction.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. “Wait. Is this—does this mean you…”

“When mers wish to mate or attract a mate, they… Well, to be forthright, we glow. Floyd and I are bioluminescent by nature, but this glow is different. Ah, but that much is now apparent…”

You stare at him in all of his coruscating glory. “You want to mate with…me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, you’re serious,” you murmur, breathless. Hesitantly, you approach him. “Then can I—may I take a closer look?”

“Please do as you see fit. Body language can’t possibly get any more candid than this now, can it?”

You giggle. “Seems pretty treacherous, too.”

“To think biological imperative would be my undoing…”

Your hand splays across his bicep, tracing the luminous bands wrapped around it. He really is a magnificent merman.

One more game, you promise yourself, restraint as thin as Jade’s lukewarm lies, and we’ll never play again.

“I like it. This is the most honest you’ve ever been with me.”

“Charming, is it not?”

“Very.”

He gathers you in his arms, and you mold yourself to him like you’ve done so many times in the past. You’re taken to the seafloor next, lowered onto the sand amidst wavering seagrass while he presses his pelvis to yours. You scrabble for a handhold on his broad shoulders, arching up into him when he rocks his hips. His tail winds around yours, and he anchors himself to you at the bottom of the sea. Above you, jellyfish swarm. Bulbous and bright, they backdrop Jade like a velvety void of stars and provide enough spotlight for you to see every inch of him. Although with just how much he shines, you wouldn’t even need the jellyfish.

If anything, they just make this tryst even more quixotic than it already is.

“After this—”

You start to speak, but you’re soon silenced when he fits his lips against yours, viciously venereal. Jade’s tongue slips past your parted lips, tangling around yours in a kiss that lasts far too long. Without the need for oxygen, neither of you separates. You throw your arms around him and kiss like you’re starved. Bubbles rise from your joined mouths, produced between gasps and groans. His teeth click against yours, and after minutes of canoodling you finally manage to yank yourself away.

Jade surges forward for another kiss, but you block him with your hand. “H-Hold on…”

“Is everything all right?”

“What will we be after this?”

“What would you like to be?”

You grab his face in both hands and hold him still. Your thumbs brush the markings stamped into his cheekbones. Jade trills at your touch, gills fluttering. A tiny heartbeat thrums beneath your fingertips.

“I… I’m not sure. Is it worth it to label our—this? Whatever this is?”

“Our mess. How does that sound?” His hand covers yours, pulling it away to hold it. “An exclusive dalliance between two.”

Friends with benefits, you think, every sense delirious. Desire feels hotter and heavier than it’s ever been, a puissant swirling in your stomach. You wonder if the potion altered your brain chemistry in some way—temporarily rewired your human instincts to suit that of a mer’s. That’s way too dangerous.

“And you’ll be yourself. You’ll be Jade, right?”

“I wouldn’t be anyone else, my dearest.”

“Let’s not go too far,” you warn, laughing. “Thin ice.”

“Is ‘my dearest’ not to your liking?” He leans in to bestow a chaste kiss to your throat, nuzzling the area right at the juncture between shoulder and neck. “I find it most fitting.”

“It’s…not the worst thing someone’s called me.”

He draws away, his eyes narrowed. “Not the worst? Others call you by delightful endearments?”

“Hmm? Jealous you’re not first?”

“Quite.” A scary smile curves his lips up. “So I’ll resolve to be the first by ridding myself of those inconsequential barnacles who think it wise to stick to you.”

“Wooow. How fearsome. But I’m just kidding. No one’s called me anything like that before…”

“So I’m the first?” he asks, proudly puffing his chest out.

“Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want.”

“Gloat I shall. It’s tremendously gratifying to be your first.” Unlike his usual smiles, this one is pure and jubilant. There are no secrets concealed within, nor does he hide his teeth. “How fortunate I am to be here with you. To have met you. To bask in you…”

His eyes flutter shut as he grinds against you with more force, and you hiss out a soft moan when his slit, sticky with slick, slides against yours. Jade sighs, digging his claws into the sand to ground himself above you, and slips into a slow, gentle pace. You study his contorting features as he rubs himself against you, his brows furrowing and mouth dropping open in a tiny ‘o’ shape.

“You’re so sensitive,” you remark, toying with his quivering gills. Your fingers dip inwards to feel the spongy filaments, and he shudders through a low whine.

“Ah, yes… Mm, I suppose…I am.” His yellow eye is alight with lust when he cracks it open to peer at you. “I confess I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You shouldn’t push it any further than you already have, for you know the dangers that accompany the truth. You shouldn’t instill false hope in Jade when he’s already so hopeful, and you definitely shouldn’t play his game when you’re very aware of what waits for you at the end.

You shouldn’t, but you do.

“I can tell. I’ve only touched you here, but you’re already unraveling.”

“Then allow me to return the favor.”

You squeal when his claws drag along your gills, his touch careful despite his intentions. When he looks at you next, it’s as if he’s readying himself to devour you. He curls his fingers like an expert and you writhe beneath him, your lips parting in muted moans. Flustered, you attempt a glare, but it falls short.

“Now we’re a rightful match.”

You giggle between gasps. “Not fair… I don’t know mer anatomy like you do!”

“Would you like an experiential lesson?”

“Is that what we’re going to call this?”

“We could…” Jade moves based on vehement instinct, his hips colliding with yours. You throw your head back when his slit brushes against yours once more. It’s soft and squishy, entirely hairless. “If it were up to me, I’d prefer something far less technical.”

“Coitus isn’t doing it for you?”

He laughs. “I want to become a pair, if only for today, and make love to you.”

“‘Make love’ sounds a little…”

Jade searches your face for the underlying meaning in unspoken words. You try to hold eye contact, but your gaze wanders to the jellyfish above. His sigh draws your attention. “I understand. Making love would imply a romance that has not yet come to fruition.”

Even now, I’m trying to run away, you realize. What am I so afraid of?

Should you yield to his wishes? Should you be impetuous and play another dangerous game? You’ve agonized over similar questions before, weighing right and wrong on your internal scale, and the answer has always remained the same: You shouldn’t, no matter how tempting it may be. Because to play these games, you must be willing to tango with trouble.

I’m the worst at making good decisions and the best at making bad decisions. I really should work on flipping those…

“Just for today,” you concede with a grumble, “we’ll become a pair.”

Whether or not you come to regret it, playing pretend has always been your and Jade’s favorite pastime. That will never change.

“My, my. Aren’t you impressionable?” he jests with a coprophagous grin.

“Just shut up and kiss me, you stupid, asshole eel.”

And he does just that, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that’s all twisting tongues. You melt alongside him like sorbet in the sun, your tails braiding as one. There’s catharsis in crawling out of your head to focus on the present, where it’s just you and Jade in this silent sea of jellyfish. You push rationality and sorrow aside, favoring carnal delights instead, and entangle yourself in another tantalizing tryst. You kiss and bite in equal measure, digging your claws into his shoulders while he marks you, just as ferociously proprietorial.

Your lips are bitten puffy in the aftermath; you taste blood in your mouth, so you lick your lips clean of the substance. You bring him down to bite into his neck, hoping to match your bite with the ones he’s previously left on you, but he stops you.

“Dangerous,” he rasps, rolling his hips until something foreign sprouts between your bodies, the tip prodding at your own slit. You gasp and arch towards him. “Our blood is—mm—it’s not safe…for consumption.”

“Really?” you ask, not believing him for a second.

“Truly. Would I lie about that?”

“Coming from you, yes, you absolutely would.”

“I’m being truthful this time.” You roll your eyes at this time, and he elaborates: “Our blood is harmful to many mammals, especially humans. The tiniest amount could kill you. Even if your teeth may not be sharp enough to pierce my skin and you’re currently a mer, I wouldn’t want to risk it.

“Thought you would.” He raises an eyebrow, so you add, “You love risk.”

“Not if said risk involves endangering you. I care about you, (Name).”

You gaze sidelong at the sprawling seafloor. “R-Right…”

“If you were to ingest even a fraction of my blood, you’d suffer dreadful muscle cramps. I’m certain you value your life to some degree, yes? A bound heart would be most painful. Besides, I’m more fond of the risk with long-term consequences. Risks you neglect to see coming are intoxicating.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like you.” You giggle and run your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, rumbling with amusement. “So what are these ‘long-term consequences’ you love so much?”

In reply, he simply smiles.

“You look so creepy!”

You give his hair a punishing tug. That thing that had been poking you earlier—it wriggles free from the slit that once confined it. Jade lifts himself off of you so that you can view it. Thick and tapered, lined with an odd set of nubs, his cock is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You react on impulse, curiously wrapping your webbed hand around it. It twitches at the contact, curling into your palm as if seeking a fleshy embrace. You startle, eyes blown wide.

Jade sucks in a sharp breath, his jaw clenched tight. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s…different. A good type of different!” You stroke him and watch the unique appendage squirm. “So this is it… Interesting. I never would’ve imagined this is what it looks like. And it moves as if it’s got a mind of its own!”

“Haa… I’m pleased to have shocked you.”

“You always do. Now what other tricks do you have in store?”

“Plenty. That I can assure you.”

You wonder if you should fear the implications of the plenty he’s mentioned, but those worries are knocked out of your head when he lowers himself on top of you. His cock slides against your slit. Your heart pumps into overdrive as you anticipate it, your body burning with a new sort of itch. Jade traces two fingers along your lips before spreading them in a slow, deep thrust. You thrash and buck up towards his hand.

“Don’t drag this out… Please, Jade, I want it—”

“How badly?”

You groan. “I hate you. I’m not going to say it.”

“Then you won’t receive it.”

“Please? What happened to friendly favors?”

“That doesn’t apply here.” His smile is so serrated it could slice you. “So I’ll ask once more—how badly do you want it?”

You mumble a desultory reply.

“You’ll have to speak up, my dearest.”

“I want it more than anything.”

“More than what?”

You shoot him a scary scowl. “I’m not saying it.”

“I can wait.” For the sake of being himself, he adds a third finger. It’s not enough, and every digit rests still and shallow inside. You cry out in displeasure. “More than whom, (Name)?”

“You’re so mean! I won’t say it!”

“C’mon, Shrimpy. You can do it…” Your walls flutter around him, and he whistles and withdraws his fingers. “Attagirl. Now say it and I’ll give it to ya.”

I’m going to kill him.

You have more energy to resist, but you’re too impatient to play the long game. So you fall victim to the act just as you have in the past. “Fine! Okay! I want it more than Floyd! I want you more than him. I… I want you inside me. You, Jade. Not Floyd.” With a huff, you add, “There. I said it. Does that satisfy you?”

“Oh, very much so.”

He thumbs at your hips, adjusting himself only slightly so that the tip of his cock is kissing your slit. You pull his ear fins in admonishment.

“Asshole eel.”

“Gorgeous grouper. The prettiest lady I’ve ever seen, even in obscenity,” he murmurs, opening his mouth at you.

Comprehending the message, you gape right back.

Unlike your original body, your mer form doesn’t require much preparation. It’s an odd thing, but when your gummy walls swallow more and more of that peculiar cock as it’s eased in you begin to think you were designed for sex. This form possesses the impossible flexibility you lack as a human, your slit suited to take the monstrosity that is his member even without the foreplay. You steal glances between your joined bodies and Jade’s face as it shifts through the stages of pleasure. He almost collapses on top of you once he’s fully sheathed inside, his grip on you so tight that his claws cut into your skin. The sting is but a whisper amidst the sheer fullness settled within your stomach.

“You—” he bows his head, groaning lowly— “truly are a dream…”

You throw your head back, whining when he hits a certain spot bundled within. You’d marvel at his ability to reach those areas if you weren’t already so overwhelmed with ardor. His movements are sloppy while he pursues the proper pace, filling you like it’s second nature. All you can do is hold on to his shoulders and revel in the sensations of this new body. When his hips connect with yours, it’s as if puzzle pieces click together. As if the two of you were made for this moment and every other one that’s come before it, a perfect combination reaction. As if, rather than Floyd, it was Jade who was meant to fill the cavern in your heart all along.

A dream…

It’s not just your presence that’s comparable to a dream. It’s the situation and the scenery—the players and their motivations who make the dream come alive, even if it’s built on physical attraction and lies. You wouldn’t call yourself an actor, for an actor is able to separate themself from their role, and you wouldn’t view Jade in that way either. You can’t. Not when he’s above you, every bodily, emotional truth on full display.

You’re just yourself, as you’ve always been, and Jade is Jade. There aren’t any roles to act out here at the bottom of the sea. No need for either of you to pretend to be people you’re not. No need for the phony Floyd to play a parody of a love that will never come to florescence.

If you keep saying such heartfelt things, I’ll fall.

You pull Jade down into another hungry kiss, to which he reciprocates with the same ravenous energy. The both of you gasp into the other’s mouth, desperate to reach orgasmic bliss way up in the troposphere. It didn’t seem so in the beginning, but now, when he fucks into you like this is his last day on Earth, it feels right. You’ve never viewed Jade in rose tint. In fact, he was so insignificant in your life that you failed to comprehend his very existence. Your sight often narrowed to encapsulate Floyd, exiling everyone else to your peripheral, and he became less of Jade Leech—his own person with unique hobbies and talents—and more of Floyd’s twin—the body double who could pass as Floyd if you looked at him from the wrong angle.

But now that same Jade Leech, the one you’d thought so little of before, is making love to you beneath a blanket of jellyfish.

Winding yourself around him, you hold firm to keep him pinned on top of you. “Please don’t stop! Please keep go—oh—going,” you plead, eyes rolling back when he does just that.

“As you wish,” he manages through grunts. “I won’t stop until you’ve had your fill—until all you can think of is me.”

“If that’s the c-case—” you dig your fingers into his back— “you—haa—will have to try harder.”

“Oh? And yet you were so easily satisfied when I was Floyd,” he teases, grabbing your hips and driving himself home in deep, riotous strokes. You tamp down a bawdy moan. “Am I not enough?”

“Not that. Different… It’s different when you’re—oh!” Your weak glare is directed at the jellyfish rather than Jade when he nips at your shoulder. Bolts of pleasure shiver through you when he sinks his teeth in to suck a vicious bruise into your skin. “You’re such a cheat.”

And so annoying. Just like that time in the botanical garden.

“But you’re thinking of me, are you not?”

Your eyes snap back to his. “Not true.”

“I’m flattered.”

“W-Whatever! It’s just beginner’s luck.”

“I’d wager you’ve thought of me before.”

“Only when it’s inconvenient.” You huff, but even that sound is swiftly replaced with another filthy moan when he bites into the spot just above your breast. “Not my fault you look like Floyd.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason,” he mutters into your skin, hips stalling out into something slow and steady.

Now you’re vexed, your pleasure withering at the lack of stimulation. “What does it matter?”

“Because I love—”

You pull him away from your collarbone to silence him with a kiss. He blinks at you in the aftermath, mystified.

“I know.” Strangely, the admission doesn’t unsettle you as much as you thought it would. “Your body told me.”

Plenty of times, in fact.

“You needn’t respond,” he mumbles, cradling your cheek in a fond hold. Sadness swells in his eyes, and your mushy heart skips a beat. “I’m well aware of how deep-rooted your affections for Floyd are.”

They’re subject to change, you almost say, but it sticks in your throat. Can they change? Is that possible?

“I… I’ve always kinda known, Jade.”

“Have you now?”

“You weren’t very covert with it.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips ghost over yours in an almost-kiss. “I have no reason to hide my feelings. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

You run your fingers over his gills, engrossed in his glimmer. “Why? I thought… I mean, isn’t hiding stuff your thing?”

He heaves a shuddering sigh at your titillating touches. “Loving in silence is far too suffocating for a moray.”

“I see…”

And you do. You see it in the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, the way he speaks to you. The way he looks at you, the way he cooks for you, the way he acts around you. From the moment you shook hands on a crazy deal, you were wrapped up in love. It was never about food critique or entertainment; those were secondary to the truth. Jade agreed to help because he loves you. Jade stifled himself—snuffed all of the pieces that comprise Jade—in order to be Floyd because he loves you. Jade spent hours learning new recipes he thought you’d like because he loves you. Jade is an ever-present force in your life no matter how often you shove him to the side because he loves you.

Everything he does—everything he is right now—stems from the love he feels for you.

You’ve always loved others, your heart much too big for its own good, so it’s new to feel that same amount of love reflected tenfold. Tears spot your lash line. Jade coos at you in a musical mix of foreign syllables and sounds. Mermish, you suspect.

“‘You’re beautiful in saltwater,’” he translates. “It’s a double entendre we say here, meaning you’re beautiful when you’re under the sea and when you’re crying. It comes from the two interpretations of saltwater.”

As if you couldn’t cry harder, you do.

“S-Stupid,” you whisper through your sniffles. “How can I not think of you when you say something like that?”

Jade rests his forehead against yours, smiling sincerely. “These are my feelings. You needn’t accept them, but I would be happy if you could acknowledge them.”

“I do. I hear you.”

“Thank you.”

I should be thanking you, dummy.

He kisses you again, and unspoken words melt away into body language. Jade makes love to you like you might break at the slightest thrust, his hips molding to yours in a lazy, loving tempo. It’s comforting and calm to feel his weight on yours, a reminder that he is your beacon amidst all of this desolation and darkness. Insatiable, you and Jade wind around each other like snakes, moaning into each other’s mouths at every opportunity. You’ve never felt more weightless, so much so you’re floating. In this underwater paradise, time is nonexistent and your turbulent thoughts are carried away on the waves.

With his ministrations, the fiery ache in your belly sparks with new life. Your glutinous walls clamp down, which draws a pleasured hiss from Jade, and you breach that special, orgasmic surface with a cry. It’s soon swallowed in another greedy kiss, and all you can do is blindly pursue his tongue, your eyes squeezed shut. The throes of pleasure overtake you even as he continues to fuck you through it, unwilling to let up for even a moment.

It’s perfect—a puzzle finally pieced together.

Jade reaches his zenith shortly after you, his hips crashing against yours in one final thrust to fill you with cum. It’s unlike human sperm, thin and watery, but there’s so much of it. You consider asking for the biology lecture, but you’re so caught up in cloud nine that it’s a chore to work your heavy tongue.

Next time I’ll ask.

Jade—cool and collected Jade—flops on top of you afterwards, completely drained. His cock twitches limply inside of you, but he’s too exhausted to slide out. Not that you’re complaining. The connection is much appreciated.

“Sex is…not very messy in the sea,” you mumble, reaching to pat his head. He hums beneath your palm. “I guess it makes sense because these bodies don’t sweat.”

“Mm.”

“And there’s water everywhere, so fluids won’t last long either.”

“Mm.”

“Huh…”

“Mm.”

You run your fingers through his hair, watching in awe as the strands waver in the water. “Are you okay, Jade?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine now.” He lifts his head slightly to look at you. “My apologies. I…may have gotten lost in the moment.”

“It’s fine.” You issue him a hazy smile. “So this is what Jade’s like post-nut. Cute.”

“Please,” he murmurs, giggling deliriously. “I can assure you I’m normally much cooler. More coherent, too.”

“I never said this side of you wasn’t cool.”

“No, you did not.” His hand covers yours, squeezing faintly. “Thank you, truly, for everything.”

“Jade, I—” You hesitate, gather your words, and continue: “I want to be the one to thank you for everything. You didn’t have to put up with me for this long. You still shouldn’t have to, but you do. So… So thank you. I’m happy to have you in my life.”

“I am forever fortunate to have crossed paths with you.” His fingers curl around yours and he brings your hand up to his lips. “And I will continue to feel so for the rest of my life. There’s no need to offer your gratitude. Being here with you is more than enough.”

“Ooh, so romantic. Everything you say is so…princely. Are you secretly fairy-tale royalty?”

“Would you like to meet my father and find out?”

“Ugh. Forget I said anything. You’re so two-faced.” You tear your hand out of his clasp.

Jade chuckles. “It wouldn’t be a very long swim. My mother will adore you.”

“You’re shameless. We still have to collect the rest of the stuff for Azul.”

“He’ll live.”

“I’ll be indebted to him.”

“And then I’ll get to see you more often.” Jade pets the bloody bites littering your skin with overt adoration. “What wonderful luck, no?”

“You’re seriously the worst!”

“You don’t mean that.”

He’s right; you don’t.

You’re not perturbed by the signs, or lack thereof.

Firstly, your period is notorious for being late. Secondly, you haven’t felt a sliver of sickness ever since Jack offhandedly remarked that you smelled different. When asked to explicate, he told you in that gruff voice of his: “Sweeter. Not like your perfumes. This is a natural sweetness.”

You were wearing your favorite fragrance at the time, so when you sniffed your wrist and turned up with a noseful of Date Night you figured Jack must have mistaken the two. Surely a wolf beastman can have a faulty nose. It can’t be correct all the time, right? Even now, after listening to similar remarks from friends and acquaintances alike, you’re convinced a mistake has been made.

After all, nothing’s changed.

Today, however, it’s Azul who wrinkles his nose at you when you walk past him in the lounge. The busy atmosphere requires his presence, hence why he’s joining you on the floor. He’d be a welcome appearance, if not for his bizarre reaction.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says with another snuffle.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tell me I smell weird, too. That’s all I’ve been hearing lately.”

“Surely someone’s told you.” He folds his arms across his chest. “If not my distracted customers, I would hope one of your friends has clued you in by now.”

“I’m not distracting them on purpose, Azul. But, really, you ought to be happy. It’s bringing in more money. Lots of tips.” You gesture to yourself with your free hand; the other is occupied with a tray full of plates. “Aren’t I doing you a favor?”

He hums, fixing his eyes on the clustered crowd. Jade and Floyd make their rounds, as do the rest of the lounge staff. “And you’ve been feeling well? No illness or discomfort of any sort? Any unusual symptoms?”

“What does my smell have to do with any of that?”

Azul offers you a pleasant simper. “For the right price, I may be able to speculate.”

“Nice try. Like I’d fall for that.”

You pivot on your heel and head for your designated table, hips sashaying all the way. For a while you were paranoid that you smelled foul and that your perfumes couldn’t mask it, but when you asked Ace and Deuce they couldn’t pinpoint the issue either. It was then when Ace joked that your uniform seemed a size too tight, and your concerns evaporated all at once—as did Ace’s comment when you and Deuce chased him through the halls to wring an apology out of him.

Grim doesn’t agree with their assessment, but then you can never tell if he’s being serious when he grumbles about your smell or how you’re like a human furnace now. Winter is approaching; of course you’ve started to bundle up to accommodate for the chilly weather. But Grim insists this is different. Agree to disagree, you compromised and left it at that. Jade had been your last resort, who weighed in with a smile and some cryptic nonsense about ‘delightful consequences’—whatever that meant. Consulting him was a fruitless effort, as he proved to be about as much help as the rest of the school.

Azul doesn’t know what he’s talking about, you think as you serve the table of students. I’ve never felt better.

Just as you think that, though, your body chooses to ridicule you. When you step away from the table, fatigue washes over you and you stumble on unsteady legs. You brace yourself for the floor’s cruel kiss, but the impact from the collapse never comes. Strong arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you upright, and then you hear him. Your star.

“Whoa! Careful there, Shrimpy. Don’t go fallin’ on us.”

“F-Floyd!” You stare up at him from where you remain slumped in his grasp. The world spins and presents you with three Floyds. You blink them away until there’s one, and by the Great Seven is he handsome in his uniform. “Thanks for catching me…”

“Don’t mention it.” He helps you to your feet, patting you down for extra measure. “All good?”

“Yeah… Yeah, totally. Sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, and the next I was so exhausted I couldn’t walk straight.”

“You get enough sleep?”

“I could do better, but I had to pull an all-nighter. Maybe I’m not eating enough? But then Ace said my uniform looked tight… Do you think I’m coming down with something? But I haven’t felt sick either. Just hungry. Seriously… What’s going on with my body?”

Floyd looks through you rather than at you, his face scrunched in contemplation. He leans closer, sniffs you once, and then pinches you through your shirt. You flinch.

“H-Hey! What was that for?”

His mouth spreads in an obnoxiously smug grin—the sort that tells you he’s worked out the solution to a mystery you’ve yet to recognize. “Just testin’ something. You’re smellin’ more like Jade these days. Mama’ll be happy knowin’ he’s got himself a li’l lady friend.”

You bristle, warming under his knowing gaze. Of course Jade’s scent is fresh on your clothes. Prior to your shift, the two of you rendezvoused for a quick round of kissing and bickering over the title for your mutualistic relations. It’s not love. It’s convenience. You fool yourself with this lie because part of you is still so hung up on Floyd. Though your affections have dimmed considerably since that day in the Coral Sea, you still catch yourself fantasizing about him and the future you could share. Although, after everything that’s happened with Jade, you’re not sure where your heart lies.

Jade is not the other half to your pair, but neither is Floyd.

But Jade is always around and he likes you; Floyd does not. And sometimes you think Jade will make it official—that he’ll confess again and you’ll echo the sentiment this time because you have nothing to lose and you’re always waltzing on the border between love and lust. You await that day with hopeful horror.

Everything has changed even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“I am not his lady friend. Not like that.”

“Sure you aren’t. And I’m not a moray.”

“I’m serious!”

“Course you are. I just don’t believe ya.”

“You—” Scowling, you move to swat at him, but the noisy growl of your stomach stops you in your tracks. “Y-You didn’t hear that!”

“Guess it’s better bein’ hungry than sick. Surprised you can even keep anything down.”

“What are you talking about? That makes no sense.”

Floyd shrugs. “Nothin’. Just sayin’ it’s damn good luck is all. These sorta things make humans suuuper sick.”

“Okay… Cool. Thanks for the input?”

Floyd snatches your fedora, indicating he’s ready for a chase and that this conversation has ended. “Hee-hee. You’ll figure it out soon.”

“Wha—hey! Get back here! I wanna know right now!”

Like a brainwashed fool, you pursue because he’s still your star—the eel you’ve idolized ever since you met him. Those feelings are impossible to squash, but it doesn’t matter. Floyd isn’t bothered, and perhaps that’s for the best. His nonchalance allows the two of you to remain friends even in the wake of your confession.

Nothing has changed between you and him.

Looking on with mounting interest, Azul pulls a very proud-looking Jade aside. “You seem pleased.”

“As a peach.”

“Am I right to assume you have a contingency plan written up?”

“And for what contingency must I plan?”

Azul scoffs at his deliberate pussyfooting. “You tell me. Your intentions evade me at present.”

“Is that so? And I thought I made them perfectly clear all those months ago.”

“You did, yes, but I fail to understand how any of this benefits you if she’s still so enamored with Floyd. Do you intend to make a marriage out of this noncommittal not-romance?”

“Azul, you jest. I’m not someone who plays for second place or consolation prizes. Of course I’ll marry (Name). She won’t have a choice.”

“You’re not even romantically involved.”

“Not by human standards.”

“No, I suppose not.” Azul watches as you, oblivious and secretly enceinte, follow Floyd to the kitchen to retrieve another set of finished orders. “A child is a commitment in more ways than one.”

“As are twins.”

He doesn’t shudder at the sight of Jade’s razored smirk, but he does raise an inquiring brow. “What makes you think that?”

“Moray eel intuition.”

“Hah. I see. (Name) won’t be very thrilled.”

“Perhaps not. But we’ll be here to help, won’t we?”

The two exchange a devious glance. Azul snickers. “Oh, but of course. I am nothing if not a compassionate, benevolent soul.”

“Your generosity parallels that of the great Sea Witch,” Jade agrees, a hand held over his heart.

“It was reckless, but I must admit I’m impressed.”

“Why, thank you. I do so enjoy playing dangerous games. The risks are profoundly metamorphic, but the rewards make it worth my while.” His two-toned eyes track your figure as you flit about the lounge with Floyd. “I’ll do whatever it takes. If I must play Floyd for the day, so be it. If I must swallow her in my shadow so that no one else dares to look for her light, so be it. These are the lengths I’m willing to go to for her. She is my everything. My dearest. My moon.” Jade glances at Azul, a manic grin darkening his features. “And rather than confine myself to the role of a single star seeking her approval, I’ll become her universe. Then there will be no need to compete with other stars, for I will be the only one she’ll ever see in this starless solar system.”

“What a frightening face… You and (Name) really are a match made in madness.”

“Aren’t we just?”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere jade #n/sfw #tw: pregnancy #tw: baby trapping #tw: choking

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