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chryblossomjjk · 2 years

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practice (pt. 3) | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut, fluff, angst

⇢ WC: 12.8k sorry

⇢ WARNINGS: emotional at points, fighting rip, oc lowkey in her villain era, they both say mean things to eachother (nothing tew intense), jk is not a himbo >:(, characters are forced to face their insecurites </3, misunderstandings, finger sucking, oral sex (f and m recieving), 69 action if u squint, brief ass eating, a little manhandling, titty sucking (obvi), flavored lube, butt plug moment, miss hitachi is finally here !!!, unprotected sex, corruption kink, squirting, overstimulation, slight dom jk, a bit of manhandling, praise, creampie, maybe unrequited love, maybe not (lol jk u'll find out), where's waldo but instead of waldo its bam

⇢ SUMMARY: sparks fly as you try to forget about jungkook.

⇢ NOTES: it’s finally here! if you haven't read pt 2 in a while, i'd suggest rereading it before reading this part! maybe even pt 1 bc callbacks. you might miss a few things if you don't. kinda nervy to post this bc everyone was so conflicted. hopefully the ending is satisfying for all. also sorry if the smut is meh, this piece was more plot driven than other things i’ve written. thank you so much for the love and support on this series. seriously cannot thank you guys enough. very bittersweet to be saying goodbye to it but i hope you stick around. love you and as always feedback is v appreciated !! big ty to @floweryjeons for betaing !!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

dumbo do u want lunch? i can drop it off in about 30

You were midway through a three hour lab and you really needed to focus. Unfortunately, the professor’s droning was easily overtaken by incessant vibrating. You peek at your phone with a scoff before shoving it back into your pocket.

Jungkook doesn’t get the hint.

dumbo i’ll just get the usu

dumbo lol i forget… ur lab is in room 305 in the civic engagement building right?

Room 222 in the science building. You don’t correct him, though.

It was difficult to ignore the sharp, self-inflicted stabs that pierced through your back whenever he texted you. But you had to rip the bandaid off before it had time to adhere to you entirely. You hadn’t talked to him in days. Not since he lied to you.

Whenever you had the urge to respond, you went through memories. Pictures of him looking unamused, pink pout scrunched up as you smushed his cheeks together. Videos of his nostrils fluttering as blaring snores filled your dorm room; your soft giggles in the background.

Little snapshots of the present that were now the past.

You were slowly weaning yourself off of Jeon Jungkook.

Your phone goes off again during your break.

dumbo hey i’ve been waiting for like 20 min

dumbo gonna head out since ur probably caught up. free until about 4 tho so text me if u want anything i’ll come back

dumbo or we can just get something after the showcase?

dumbo are you running late?

dumbo you know it starts at 7p right?

dumbo ik you hate being late so i’m starting to get nervous…

dumbo just let me know that you’re safe please

Those texts were sent nearly three hours ago. You’ve tried to distract yourself with homework, Sailor Moon, and the watermelon mask you were currently washing off your face. Nothing helped. The guilt lingering in your chest was heavy and you wish it would trickle down the drain like the abandoned products.

You sigh, shaking your hands vigorously to flick off the excess water. A damp knuckle presses your phone screen. It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday. Back at square one.

The scent of your green tea moisturizer fills your nostrils as you glide the creamy substance over your skin. Fingertips dancing gently across the surface of your plump cheeks. The touch is soft and delicate, just like his was-

Intrusive thoughts make you want to remove your frontal lobe.

You try to remind yourself that although vibrant and dashing, Jungkook was anything but your knight in shining armor. Greedy. Disgusting. Selfish. Just like the rest of the men who tried to conquer the tall brick walls of your heart, mind, and body.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Despite the brightening mask, your dewy skin was dull. The inner corners of your big eyes were overtaken by winding red branches. The thick black bags under them appear even heftier than your beloved Playboy duffel. Your plump lips are coated in your Laniege lip mask. It’s candy-flavored, but it doesn’t taste as sweet anymore. You look lifeless.

Did cutting Jungkook off really affect you that badly?

Or perhaps you always looked like this, and the loss of him made you realize how truly gloomy and lackluster things were before.

For the past two months, your reflections were filled with pearly white teeth and crinkled eyes. Being with Jungkook was careless and irresponsible in all the right ways. Whenever you were with him, the negative thoughts that often plagued your mind were forgotten, and you were just… free.

But look where that got you.

The sound of your phone pinging brings you back to reality.

dumbo tae said that you’re home with mina…

Taehyung. What a little snitch. You’ll make sure that Mina punishes him adequately.

dumbo not sure what your deal is but i’m fucking heated

“What do you know, Taehyung?” You sneer his name like a curse; the nasty ‘T’ word.

“I know everything,” he responds nonchalantly, flipping through his absolute mammoth of a textbook. He nods his head toward the guilty party beside him. “Your bestie told me.”

“Liar!” Mina gasps, smacking his sweater-clad bicep. Her voice lowers immediately when Taehyung shushes her. You were in the library after all. She looks at you exasperatedly. “I didn’t tell him like- ‘everything’ everything.”

“I don’t need to know everything.” He closes the hardcover book gingerly, peering at you over the thick black rim of his glasses. You’re convinced they’re a sham, and he only wears them to look professional and intellectual. “My keen deductive reasoning has led me to the conclusion that this situation is—in fact—fucking ridiculous.”

You gawk at bluntness. “Aren’t you literally studying to be a therapist?”

“Psychiatrist,” he corrects with a cheesy grin. “I’m allowed to tell you when you’re being childish.”

“Tae, be nice.” Mina warns with a scowl, holding her index finger out right in front of his nose. “I know Jungkook is your friend, but he’s grimy.”

“I swear, I’m not trying to be a dick.” Taehyung laughs, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m just giving perspective. I care about you, __.”

“Sure you do.” You answer curtly, rolling your eyes.

“And-,” Taehyung claps his large palms together, fingertips pointed towards you in an accusatory fashion. “-I know Jungkook better than both of you.” He gestures between you and Mina. “He’s not a bad dude.”

“He-,”

“He ditched her to go to a party!” Mina beats you to the punch, voice whiny and frustrated. “And lied about it! He’s trash!”

“Thank you, Mina,” you whisper-shout, placing a finger over your lips to remind her, once again, that you were still in the library. As much as you love her, you didn’t necessarily want all of campus knowing your dirty laundry. Your eyes scan the dimly lit room for eavesdroppers. Luckily, it was fairly empty at this time of day.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?”

“It’s not that simple, Tae,” you sigh, turning your attention back to the empty word document on your laptop screen. In the twenty minutes you’ve been sitting here, you have only managed to type the essay’s title and your name. Spelled wrong. Sneakily, you correct the typo before anyone notices.

“Maybe…” Mina starts, lips scrunching to the side in contemplation. She looks at her boyfriend innocently before tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Playing all the right cards. “Maybe… you could talk to him for her? Or do a little snoopy snoop to see what he’s up to?”

“There’s no way in hell I’m playing double agent for you guys.”

“Come on, Tae!” Mina pouts. “It could be fun!”

“No,” Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “I refuse to get in the mid-,”

“Hey!”

Taehyung’s words are cut off by an uncomfortably familiar voice. Its usual soft, playful tone was laced with sternness. The sound makes your spine straighten.

Jungkook.

You were so distracted that you hadn’t heard his clunky black boots stomping towards you. The firm grip of tattooed fingers on your shoulder makes you look up. Even under the rim of his bucket hat, you can see the angry stars dancing in his black eyes. They’re hot and scalding with irritation. “Can we talk?”

“About?” You peep in feigned naivety.

“Oh, please,” he scoffs loudly, laughing in disbelief. The seat beside you is yanked out with a startling screech. Jungkook plops down on it and turns to face you, knees digging into your outer thigh. Always so incredibly close. “Don’t give me that shit-,”

“Jungkook.” Taehyung calls, trying to stifle the bubbling lava in Jungkook’s stomach before he erupts. It was rare to see his happy-go-lucky friend so agitated. “Chill.”

His eyes soften at the warning. It’s like Jungkook hadn’t even registered how angry he had actually become. The entirety of his college experience has been spent distancing anger—and any other negative emotion—so far from his being that he couldn’t even detect the cues anymore. He inhales deeply through his nose, white t-shirt pulling tight at his chest, before exhaling.

“You good?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jungkook nods, bringing a hand up to massage slow circles into his temple. Despite how upset you are with him, the self-soothing mechanism makes your heart ache. “I promise, I’m calm. I just want to talk.”

His pupils dart between the two unmoving figures across from you.

“Alone, please.”

Jungkook and Taehyung lock eyes for a moment, communicating silently through some bro-telepathy that has you and Mina exchanging confused glances. Suddenly, the curly-haired boy nods, collecting his textbook and intertwining his fingers with Mina’s. “Let’s go, babe.”

“Tae, wait!” Mina protests, trying to wriggle out of Taehyung’s grasp. She looks at you apologetically as her boyfriend urges her towards the exit, unable to break free. “Call me after, okay?” She shoots Jungkook a threatening glare before turning away.

And just like that, you were left alone with the man you’d been avidly avoiding for the past week and a half.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook questions, silver piercing glimmering in the light as he gnaws on his bottom lip. The pink skin under his bunny teeth was already turning red. “Like… did I do something wrong?”

You look everywhere but him, mindlessly scrolling up and down the empty page on your laptop screen. It was a poor attempt to act unbothered, despite the heavy thumping in your chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The showcase?”

“What about it?”

Jungkook always took your attitude in stride, leveling your petty comments with kisses and playful eyerolls. This eye roll, however, paired with a painfully clenched jaw, is anything but playful. “Quit playing games, __. I’ve had enough,” he grits.

He never calls you by your name.

“Playing games,” you echo with a sarcastic laugh. In the pit of your stomach, you can feel the sadness morphing into a fit of heady anger. The words taste vile and sour on your tongue before they’re spewed at him. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the puzzled expression on his face. Eyebrow piercing twitching in confusion as the cogs in his brain spin, trying to make sense of your words. “I don’t understand…”

How does he not understand?

“Why didn’t you come to the showcase?”

You huff out a sigh, gaze fluttering to the ceiling.

“Answer me,” he urges, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, clearly trying to shift your attention back onto him. As if that wasn’t what landed you in this position in the first place.

“Jungkook-,”

Your voice gets caught in your throat when you feel his sharp exhales fan across your cheek. Fast and restless. It makes you miss the deep, peaceful ones he would make when buried under your heavy duvet; hair disheveled from tossing and turning and the brush of your fingers as you lulled him to sleep. His breath smells like toothpaste and vanilla gum. You glance at your taskbar. It’s 12:23 p.m. and he hasn’t eaten yet.

“I didn’t go because this is unproductive,” you sigh, closing your laptop and finally gaining the courage to face the man beside you. “You being in my life is unproductive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Unproductive.” When your eyes meet his big dark ones, you can’t stand them. You can’t stand him for what he’s done, for how he’s turned something so special to you, so ugly. It coaxes that equally ugly, scaly, green defensiveness out of you. You want to retreat, and rebuild the walls higher, so that your emotional security would never be destroyed again. Anyone who threatened it would be burned, including Jungkook, sitting before you with doe eyes as you prepared to breathe fire in his direction. “I know it’s a difficult word, but you’re a big boy. Sound it out.”

The look on his face makes you regret the low blow instantly.

“Jesus,” he huffs, taking his hat off and scrubbing his hands over his face like he’s trying to wake up from a nightmare. “Why are you being-”

You cringe, expecting a nasty insult.

“-so mean?”

Oh.

Ow.

For some reason, that hurt more than any curse word would.

“I’m not mean.”

“I know you’re not,” he lifts his head, searching your face for any remnant of the girl he’s spent the last two months with. “So why are you acting like this?”

Your silence eggs him further.

“You know what, I’m so fucking sick of you treating me like I’m stupid,” his eyes squeeze closed when he swears, nails digging into his tattooed knuckles as he crosses his big hands. The confession rips through him and hits you like a physical blow. You suddenly remember all of the times you’ve teased Jungkook about his major or insulted his intelligence.

‘What tests? You’re a photography major.’

‘You’re an idiot, Jungkook.’

‘Your major is showing.’

You didn’t mean any of it. Not one bit. They were just shitty efforts to conceal your feelings for him. You never realized that Jungkook was taking your comments to heart. But it was too little too late. You can’t turn back time and the floodgates have already opened.

“Just because I’m not some big-shot science major, doesn’t mean that I’m fucking brainless. And it certainly doesn’t mean that you’re better than me.” With his hat sitting on the glossy wooden table, you can fully see the angry arch in his brows. The scrunch in his nose intensifies as he seethes. “What? You think you’re too good to go to the showcase? If you didn’t want to come you should’ve grown a pair and said something.”

“It’s not that,” you protest, chin quivering with ugly dents as you try to hold back tears. “I just… figured you’d bring someone else.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, cogs coming to a halt when he finally comprehends your vague statements. “Stop acting like you can read my mind- or that you know me better than I know myself.” He snatches his hat and drops it back on his head, fingers gripping the rim to adjust the position. “Because you clearly don’t know shit about me.”

You watch silently as he scoots his chair back, standing up with urgency. How did things come to this? Two months ago you were casual friends, now you’re fighting in the middle of the school library. You would’ve never let him into your dorm room that night if you knew it would hurt this bad.

“And I actually thought-,” Jungkook says, turning to face you. His lips open and then close promptly before he waves a hand at you. “Fuck it, nevermind. I’m done.”

You look extremely suspect.

Speeding through campus with your hood up, sweater strings almost dangling to the floor with how tight you’ve pulled them. You can barely see where you’re going. The small fluffy peephole you’ve provided yourself is no good for navigating the winding halls of the dreaded liberal arts building.

You’ve been sleeping in later and later; a recent habit. Most days you felt drained, barely able to muster the energy to crawl out of bed. That’s exactly what happened this morning, hence why you’re marching down this evil, forbidden shortcut, in hopes of making it to class on time.

It’s a Tuesday. Jungkook doesn’t have classes on Tuesdays. But you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him and the places he frequents. You haven’t heard from him since the.. incident. Not a single text or call. It hurt like hell, but what did you expect? You weren’t exactly nice to him the last time you two spoke. And it wasn’t like he cared to begin with. He was probably already buried in someone else; moaning blissfully. Meanwhile, you can’t even leave your damn room without thinking about him.

Shut up, evil brain. Back to the matter at hand—getting to class.

You decide that music is the best method of distraction. An exaggerated sigh slips out as you yank your phone out of your pocket. You’re just about to crank your airpods up when a couple of distant voices catch your attention.

“These are from this weekend's showcase, we’re taking them down next week…” A muffled response that you can’t comprehend. “Yep, all are my students.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

The professor’s prideful tone rings in your ears, drowning out whatever breakup playlist you were previously listening to. The mention of a showcase, the showcase, makes your heart drop with a painful thud.

Fuck.

Your skull feels exponentially heavier than normal when you lift it, finally breaking eye contact with the dingy concrete floor underneath you. There are pictures hung all along the white walls of the campus center. No doubt leftover from an event you deliberately skipped.

You roll your head back, attempting to loosen the uncomfortable tension in your muscles. Anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip, you take in your surroundings. Jittery hands pluck out your headphones and plop them back into your Luna-shaped airpod case. Underneath all the sadness and guilt, your body was teaming with curiosity.

You never found out what Jungkook’s topic of choice was. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen any of his photography. Ever.

A quick look wouldn’t hurt, right?

Besides, maybe this was what you needed to move on. A final goodbye to the man who has held your mind captive for far too long.

With a deep exhale and a heavy heart, you take the plunge and step forward. You lull along the walls, staring wide-eyed at each photo. Most of them take on a dark modern vibe, displaying people and objects in dreary settings. A sea of gray and black. Devoid of color. You glance at the labels above. The topics chosen were gloomy, too.

Hm. Life imitates art.

You wonder if those students have had their hearts broken as well.

A vibrant splash of color makes you halt. Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the canvas. There’s a blood-red rose. The lens is so zoomed in that the flower eats up the entire portrait. You place a manicured digit against it, tracing your fingertip along the jagged veins in the delicate petals. The imagery is surreal, almost comparable to a heart. Not a cutesy cartoon heart—the literal human organ. You think it’s stunning, standing out amongst the rest like a beautiful sore thumb.

The printed black font along the border makes your breath hitch.

Love - Jeon Jungkook.

The subject confuses you, but the photography makes sense. Of course, this was Jungkook’s work. It’s obnoxious, lively, and so incredibly different from the rest. Stunning and enchanting, nonetheless. The next photo in his set is of two shadows, a bit distorted as they're splayed against the concrete. A couple holding hands. You recognize the silhouettes immediately; Mina and Taehyung. You can’t fight the smile spreading across your face.

Next in the portfolio is a room, white walls decorated with faux ivy vines. The little, golden lights laced throughout them gives the picture a warm saturated glow. At the center of the photo is a woman laying underneath a cream duvet. Her bare back is facing the camera, messy hair sprawled on the pillow. It’s a bit risqué, but you get how it connects to his chosen subject. It’s the aftermath of the physical act of love.

To any other student or teacher strolling by, the woman in the picture was a stranger. But to you, she’s the farthest thing from a stranger.

She’s you.

Jungkook must have taken it while you were sleeping.

A wave of the most perplexing, juxtaposing emotions washes over you. Your palms turn clammy as you try to process what you’re witnessing. Why would he do this? Include a picture of you in a project, literally titled ‘love’, only to fucking lie to you? To take advantage of your affection and string you along while he entertained another person?

You find the answers to your aimless questions in the next photo.

Fireworks.

The only time you remember seeing or hearing fireworks was…

The night of the party.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, pressing your damp forehead against the grainy wood of his door. You never thought you’d be in this position. Chasing after a man. It’s humiliating and out of character, but you need to make things right. “I know you’re in there…”

You’ve been standing outside of his dorm room for the past ten minutes. Knocking, pleading, begging. All to no avail. The sound of rustling blankets and footsteps on the other side makes you lift your head, eyes widening with hope. The optimism is lost once the soft noises stop completely. They only served to confirm your suspicions. Jungkook is home and he’s purposely ignoring you.

Oh, the irony.

Earlier in the week, the roles were reversed. Jungkook was the one pining for your attention. Now, you know exactly how he must have felt that day in the library. And you don’t like it one bit.

“Look,” you huff, shaking a few clumpy strands out of your face. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now… but I’m really sorry.”

The only response you receive is the whoosh of running water.

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Obviously, he’s not going to answer the door. Why would he? He had every right to be mad. You hadn’t hesitated to dismiss him, and his passions, when you were the one upset.

You come to the grim realization that maybe things are better this way.

Jungkook is completely, entirely, wholeheartedly different from you, and you from him. So much so that you were incompatible. You’ve barely dipped your toes into anything serious, yet the two of you were already fighting and miscommunicating. It would never work, whatever it is. It couldn’t.

Deep down in your heart, you know none of that is true.

As much as you try to rationalize the distance, you can’t convince yourself that your life is better like this—because whenever you picture a future with Jungkook or reflect on the past, you see and feel nothing but sunshine. The walls begin to crumble and you feel free. Maybe, the characteristics of Jungkook you deemed annoying and different, were what made being with him so euphoric.

But none of that matters anymore. Whatever chance you had at that, at something more with him, you've completely destroyed. With a grimace and an awful pit in your stomach, you decide the best thing you can do for him is leave him alone. You adjust the takeout bags in your hand and begin to head out.

Just as you reach the end of the dingy hallway, you hear a click and a loud creak. You spin so fast you almost get whiplash.

Jungkook is standing in his doorway, looking at you blankly with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He’s shirtless, full muscles rippling under his milky skin. Normally you would ogle at the sight of his toned chest and defined abs, but your focus is elsewhere. Like on the red flannel sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips, sharp v-line peeking over the hem. You recognize them from the night you helped him study for an upcoming quiz.

‘This is a conspiracy,’ he grumbled, convinced the test was an elaborate scheme by the school committee to punish him for his frequent drunken mishaps and countless guideline violations. You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder as you helped him memorize terms and ideas. You guys didn’t leave the library until 2 a.m.

He looks warm and cozy. Dark tresses swooping in messy waves across his forehead as he peers at you with doe eyes. After not seeing him or checking in on him for a while, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he mumbles softly, voice coming out muffled over the bristles of his toothbrush. He pulls it out, letting out a tiny ‘oops’ as a glob of toothpaste hits the floor. He wipes it away with his foot before continuing. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Everything you wanted to say had trickled out of your mind like the little droplets of water running down your skin.

He meets your silence with an unamused squint and starts to close the door.

“Jungkook, wait!” You shout, taking a few frantic steps closer. “I saw the showcase!”

He pauses. “You did?” His thick brows slant in confusion. “How?”

“It’s still up in the liberal arts building.”

He nods his head slowly as an awkward quietness falls over the corridor. You can tell he’s still upset with you and the tension makes you queasy.

“I have pancakes,” you offer nervously, lifting up the crinkled plastic bags in your hand. It’s so damn cheesy. But you're trying your best. You prayed that he understood the reference, and remembered how he showed up to your dorm in the same exact way. The fateful night that started it all.

“Interesting.” His nose twitches as he tongues the little hoop on his bottom lip. Obviously fighting a smile. Thank God. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip… your favorite.”

He hums a contemplative noise, scanning you up and down. Your hair is dripping. The pink velvet hoodie you’re wearing is clinging to your figure in ways he knows it isn’t supposed to. “Why are you wet?”

“It’s raining,” you point out.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder, glancing into his room and out the window at the cloudy, gray sky. There’s a change in his expression when he faces you again. “You walked here in the rain?”

You nod meekly.

The harsh glint in his eyes softens. He sighs deeply, head dropping in defeat as he holds out a colorful arm, inked digits gesturing for you to come closer. “C’mere, Bambi. I’ll get you some clothes.”

Bambi.

You’ve never been so elated to hear that nickname.

“Thank you,” you peep, scurrying towards his open door before he changes his mind and sends you packing. Goosebumps form on your skin when your bicep brushes against his bare chest as you hastily enter the room. The light touch leaves your cheeks hot.

“Hold on,” he says, disappearing into his tiny bathroom. You set the pancakes on top of his nightstand, awkwardly standing in the middle of his dorm. This isn’t exactly how you envisioned your first time at Jungkook’s place would go.

While idly taking in your surroundings, you spot a little whiteboard above his bed. On it, scribbled in blue marker, is the biggest boobs you’ve ever seen in your life. There’s a heart eyes emoji tacked on in the corner. A good artistic detail, you think. You should be rolling your eyes at his boyishness. That’s what you always do. But an endeared laugh comes out instead.

Why was a poorly drawn pair of tits making you soft?

Right underneath the whiteboard is a collage of taped pictures. You bend at the waist for a better look. There’s a polaroid of him and Taehyung, arms intertwining at the elbows, both downing a dark, probably alcoholic, beverage. How cute of them. The next photo is of Jungkook on a rollercoaster, tongue out and eyes crinkled as he middle fingers the camera. So wild and free. Your heart swells in familiarity.

But the more you stumble upon, the more unfamiliar Jungkook becomes. There’s a few blurry pictures of a big black dog he’s never spoken about before. The next one has you gushing. It’s a candid image of baby-faced Jungkook, holding up his high school diploma with a proud, big, bunny smile. There’s an older woman in the frame kissing his cheek. You tilt your head in confusion. You wonder if it’s his mother. You had just assumed he couldn’t stand his parents and didn’t keep in contact with them.

Maybe… you don’t have Jungkook figured out like you thought you did. There’s still so much you have to learn. You make a mental note of all the questions you want to ask him later.

That is if there even is a later.

The bathroom door opens and Jungkook walks out. “Here,” he says, handing you a pile of neatly folded clothes. There’s an oversized black hoodie on top. Your favorite sweater, the one you always steal from him. You watch sullenly as he sits down on the edge of his bed.

“I’m sorry,” you reiterate, absolutely loathing how weak and frail you sound. Jungkook doesn’t respond. He just stares into your soul with those scrutinizing eyes. “Can you talk to me, please?”

“I wanted to talk at the library,” he groans, arms jolting forward in frustration, fingers painfully flexed and hooked like claws. His bare chest flushed an angry red. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. All fucking week!”

Startled, you jump at his voice, dropping the stack of clothes you were holding. Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Ah, I-'' he interrupts himself with a shameful hiss. You pick up the fallen fabrics with shaky hands, placing them on his nightstand with the forgotten pancakes. Jungkook digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, too apologetic and embarrassed for losing his cool to look at you. “I’m sorry.”

To be fair, he hadn’t been that loud. It was more abrupt than anything else. But your Jungkook was as happy and carefree as the wind. This side of him was new, and you were still figuring out how to navigate the uncharted waters. “It’s okay.” You can’t blame him. Not after everything you’ve done. “You’re allowed to be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he sighs. The tattooed fingers splayed over his eyes slide in to clamp the bridge of his nose. The other hand pats the spot next to him on the black comforter. “Come here.”

“But,” you look down at the damp clothes, “I’m wet.”

“It’s fine. Sit down.”

You listen, cautiously sinking down into the bed. Despite the copious amounts of nude escapades, you’ve never felt more vulnerable with him. Usually, when you’re in bed with Jungkook, he’s panting above you, sleeping below you, or lying beside you. Head snuggled into your neck like an annoying, albeit affectionate, cat. Now, you make sure to keep your distance, anxiously picking at your chipped nail polish.

“What happened?” He questions breathlessly, relieved to finally verbalize the words that were weighing heavy on his chest. “Everything was going great and then you switched up on me. Like the showcase? Really, Bambi? I was the only person there without a guest.”

The disappointment in his voice cuts you deep, but the vision of him at the event he had been so excited for, completely alone, hurts even worse. You were his muse, and you rejected him. Looking at him was an awful decision, because you get lost in his eyes immediately. Those beautiful, captivating, endless eyes. Filled with pain and uncertainty. You realize the only way to make that awful look disappear, is to confess…

“I really like you, Jungkook… a lot. Like- more than just friends…”

Once again, you’re met with silence. Jungkook’s face is unreadable yet so familiar. You've seen that expression before. You can’t pinpoint when or where exactly, but it makes your heart pound so loudly that your ears ring.

“So,” you continue shakily, “the last time we hung out—when you canceled our plans—I got really upset.”

“I was finishing my project.”

“But then I saw a picture of you at a party-,”

“Yeah,” he defends, looking at you exasperatedly, unable to follow your train of thought. “I wanted to take pictures of the fireworks.”

“I know that now,” you admit, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “but the picture was from Nayeon’s Instagram.”

“Nayeon?” He frowns. “I haven’t talked to Nayeon in months.”

“But you guys were-” your eyes dart around in search of the right phrasing. You settle on ‘a thing’, putting little air quotes around the ambiguous title.

“Why does that matter?” He asks incredulously. “Her and I ended things before we even started hooking up. I haven’t had sex with anybody else since we’ve been a thing.” The last part is teasing, he mimics your air quotes as his pierced pout curls into a smirk. Ah, Jungkook gets it now. Your unbecoming actions over the course of the week were a product of jealousy and possessiveness. Any lingering trace of anger is washed away with the revelation. “I told you that.”

“Yeah, but…” After mulling over your thoughts, you hesitate to speak. You hadn’t realized how ridiculous and childish you were being until now. Taehyung was right after all. “I don’t know, the way you said it seemed… fishy.”

Jungkook deadpans you before shaking his head, chuckling under his breath. You watch it all unfold awkwardly. How embarrassing.

“It’s not funny, Jungkook!”

“Ah!” He echos your shouts through a laugh, cupping your head with his large hands and jittering it gently. “Stop thinking! Your brain is evil!”

Hm. Valid point.

“In my defense,” you retort, cuffing his wrists with your tiny hands. His skin is warm and soft. You’ve missed touching him so much. “You literally mentioned Nayeon while we were having sex.”

The playful stars in his eyes combust. “Huh?”

“Oral fixation.”

His eyes widen in remembrance. “Oh shit,” he groans, slumping down, hands dropping into his lap. “Looking back, that was so fucked, but I- I just thought it was funny. I swear I didn’t mean anything, like- bad by it. I-.” Frustrated by his own stuttering and lack of judgment, Jungkook mushes his fingers into his sockets before laying down in defeat. “That was so fucking stupid of me. I’m stupid. I’m sorry, Bambi.”

Stupid.

That word coaxes a visceral reaction out of you.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. His tattooed fingers part in the middle as he hesitantly peeks at you. You giggle for a moment, and so does he, but then you feel the gravity of the situation. Sniffling, you look down at the beautiful boy. How could you have ever been so nasty to him? You push his bangs back gently. They’ve gotten longer. Cupping his cheek, you slowly brush your thumb across his soft skin. You’re afraid that if you’re too rough, he’ll slip right through your fingers. “You’re not stupid, Jungkook... I’ve never met anyone who sees the world how you do. You’re so creative and clever in your own right… I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t, because I don’t think that at all.” Voice crack. “I never did.”

“Hey,” Jungkook coos in concern. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” you argue, blinking furiously to fight back the waterworks. “And I’m really sorry about the showcase. I know how important it was to you.”

“Shh,” he shushes, “please don’t cry.” He catches your hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your fingertips. “You apologized, so we’re good, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you sniffle. It feels like a ton of bricks have been lifted off of your shoulders. “For what it’s worth, your portfolio was gorgeous.”

“Nah,” he teases, wrapping an arm around your waist and encouraging you to lay down with him. “You’re only saying that because you were in it.” You smile softly, thankful for his light-hearted banter. You stay like that for a while. Face to face. Just looking at one another. You think you could stay like this forever, basking in his beauty. His warmth. Jungkook speaks first. “Why didn’t you just talk to me about the picture?”

“I guess, I was just scared of losing you… but then I just started ignoring you, which doesn’t make sense… so probably should’ve just talked to you about it.” The stream of consciousness makes him laugh. “I really like you, Jungkook.”

“I don’t do relationships.”

You feel your heart shatter into a million, irreparable pieces.

How cruel.

“Wait, those aren’t the right words,” Jungkook shakes his head. “What I meant to say is that I’ve never actually been in a relationship.” The stammered admission has you stunned. Campus fuckboy Jungkook has never been in a relationship? “And I have no fucking clue what I’m doing but… I really like you, too. I want you, I do… I don’t know how good of a boyfriend I’ll be but,” he looks at you for the first time throughout his nervous ramble. His eyes are just as terrified as yours. “I’m willing to try if you are.”

You blink at him. Did he just say… boyfriend?

“__,” Jungkook calls, anxiously toying with his lip ring. “Do you want this?”

You’ve never wanted anything more.

Without warning, you smash your lips into his. This kiss is sloppy and brash, but he’s yours. Jungkook is yours. “I think you chipped my tooth,” he winces, chuckling breathlessly. “Is that a yes?”

You nod vehemently.

“Okay,” he smiles, tilting your chin, “now give me a real kiss. None of that amateur shit you just pulled.”

You kiss him again, head full of clouds and tummy full of butterflies. Jungkook grabs under your thighs, maneuvering you on top of him, knees on either side of his cinched waist. Your lips are more controlled this time. There’s a little tongue action. Nothing too dirty, just soft brushes and prods like you’re two virgins testing the waters. Everything is slow and unhurried. You feel like you’re floating, levitating, fucking astral projecting.

“There we go,” Jungkook grins, the rounded tip of his nose tickling yours. It’s so sappy, and you can only imagine how dumb you two look, staring at each other with sparkly eyes and goofy smiles.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, though.

A sneaky hand and the grinding of a zipper interrupts the cute moment.

“You perv!” You shriek, giggling wildly as you swat his naughty fingers away. The damage is done, and the sleeve of your open sweater slips down your bare shoulder. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Mm,” he hums in confirmation, placing a peck on the newly exposed skin. “Sex with you,” he specifies before peeling the damp material from your arms and tossing it onto the floor. You cringe at the clanging of your expensive, deadstock, Juicy Couture hoodie. “Why are you so covered up?” Jungkook sits up to suck on your erect nipple, right through your translucent, white tank top. Whimpering, you grind against him. “You gotta take this off…” he sighs dreamily, yanking the pesky shirt over your head.

Wow. He’s extra needy today. Not that you’re complaining.

“Jungkook,” you complain, arms crossed over your chest. “Stop staring!”

“Why are you being so shy?” He does this often. Gawks at your naked body until your skin burns and your cheeks sting. It's a strange feeling. So uncomfortable yet so reassuring. You’ve never had a man look at you the way Jungkook does, like he’s trying to remember every birthmark, curve, and detail. That level of intimacy was scary. You can’t help but squirm under his intense gaze. “You’re my girl now, aren’t you, baby?

His girl. You swoon.

“I am, it’s just kinda awkward.”

“How so?” He patronizes, bottom lip jutting out in a deep pout. “Can’t I look?”

“You can just… don’t stare.”

“I do what I want.” The sudden switch in his voice makes your breath hitch. “Move your arms. Let me see you.”

Oh. He’s in one of those moods.

You and Jungkook rarely dabbled in sub and dom dynamics. Maybe, he was too afraid of intimidating you. Maybe, you were too afraid to initiate. But boy was his aggressiveness a treat. The duality between the relaxed attitude he carried in his everyday life, and the occasional primal beast that came out during sex, made your mouth water.

“Really?” He tuts his tongue when you counter him with a scowl, raising a threatening brow at you, code for ‘go ahead, test me’. You do, not moving a muscle.

Jungkook physically pries your arms apart and twists them behind your back, holding your wrists together in one hand. The swift movement makes you gasp.

“This okay, Bambi?”

All you can see over the bubbles of your cheeks is his tangled, black hair. His forehead rests against your collarbones, sharp exhales fanning across your chest. The hot gusts make your nipples pebble and the light stimulation sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your spine.

“Yes,” you whimper.

Using his free hand, Jungkook grips your jaw, indulging you in a sweet kiss. “Good girl.” The whispered praise has your clit throbbing. He turns your face towards the sleek mirror mounted on the wall. “Look at you, baby.”

Insecurity looms over you like a black raincloud as you’re forced to look at the reflection. The sight of your nude body makes you feel icky. Instinctively, you try to jerk away.

“Hey, stop-” he gruffs, tightening his grip to cement you in place. “Chill. Take a deep breath.”

You obey, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

“Why are you so combative today?” The rough edge falters for a moment when Jungkook confirms that he ‘just learned that word yesterday from a synonym website’. You giggle. Why must he be so adorable? “Don’t I always take care of you?”

“You do.”

“Do you trust me?” You nod. “Use your words, baby.”

“I trust you, Jungkook.”

“Good girl,” he smiles, making you face the glass again. His touch is much more gentle this time, guiding you with a delicate finger on your chin. “Don’t look at me,” Jungkook chuckles when he catches you staring at him and then points at your bewildered expression, “eyes on you.”

Despite the initial resistance, looking own reflection isn't as difficult as it was the first time. There’s little things you pick up on, like the way your thick, fluffy hair lays. The way your chest looks so supple pressed against his. How your hips curve out at the right angle. Your skin is smooth and poreless. That Laneige toner is really out here doing the lord's work.

“Look at how beautiful you are.”

Although Jungkook’s words are sweet, you wouldn’t go that far. But you guess, one could say you’re cute—which is more credit than you’ve given yourself in a while.

“Aren’t you so beautiful, baby?”

You hum to appease him, but this experience was definitely a start. You’re gaining self-confidence, one baby step at a time. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“You think so?” He asks airily, flashing one of those teeny tiny smiles he does, where only his two front chompers poke out. You swear this man is an angel, or some mythical being that was too ethereal to exist on planet Earth. Mumbling a small ‘uh huh’, you peck at the corner of his mouth. His silver hoop feels icy against your lips, but his hands, rubbing soothing lines up your back, are so warm. “I wish you saw yourself the way I do,” he says with sparkly eyes. “How could I want anyone else, Bambi?”

Your heart swells two sizes too big and you don’t even know how to respond.

“Alright, space girl,” Jungkook chuckles at your ditzy state, delivering a quick swat to your ass to bring you back to reality. An impatient, tattooed arm is hooked under your thigh, tossing you to the side before he gets to his feet. “Lay down. ‘S been a while since I ate that pussy.”

“Wait,” you say, unphased by his lewd comment. “Can I…” you look down at his crotch, “you know?”

“What?” He smirks at your vagueness. “Suck my dick?”

Foreplay normally consisted of Jungkook’s head between your thighs, his fingers milking your g-spot, or a shy handjob here and there. Now that he’s your boyfriend, you suppose it’s finally time to return the favor. Especially since he looks so delicious with his messy hair and his pretty tits out.

“Please,” you choke, cheeks burning with embarrassment at how quickly the plead slipped out.

“You don’t have to beg,” he purrs, stepping between your parted thighs sat at the edge of his bed. You gulp, nose aligned with his growing bulge. “Actually, yes, you do,” he retracts, swiping his big thumb across your bottom lip tauntingly. You’re dripping, already knowing where things are headed. “Been a bad girl lately, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” you pout, shrinking under his beady eyes, peering right at you over his big nose. “But you said we’re passed that.”

“We are,” he agrees, “but I could use some reassurance. Wanna give me a little bit, baby?”

“How?”

“Suck it,” he requests, tapping his thick digit against your deep frown, “show me how good you’re gonna blow me… just so I know…”

God, you can’t deny him. Not when his voice is drenched in lust and he looks that yummy. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you grab his wrist, taking his thumb into your mouth, all the way down to his palm. Moaning, you swirl your tongue around the pad. He plays along, plunging and pulling his finger into your wet suction. Your lips are going to look so fucking pretty around his cock, Jungkook thinks.

“‘Kay, no more,” he says, voice strained as he yanks his hand away. The movement makes you accidentally bite your tongue. Asshole. He proceeds to tangle his spit-covered hand into your hair. Major asshole. With a thick fistful, Jungkook shoves you into his clean-shaven pelvis. “Am I hard yet? Check for me?”

He knows he’s hard. You know he’s hard. But you indulge him anyway, mushing a sloppy kiss into his v-line. The view of his eyes is disrupted by the heavy heaving of his chest, and his cute little nipples; spiked and erect. Dipping down, you place a loving peck on the tip through his pants. The red material is damp from his arousal. “Yep, hard.”

“Cute,” he laughs in reaction to how sweet and innocent you look down there. “Take it out, then.”

You tug his pants down, letting them pool at his ankles. His boner springs up with vigor, whacking you in the nose on its path up to his navel. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, smacking a hand over his mouth in guilt. You glare at him, suspicious of how genuine that ‘guilt’ really is. Something you’ve noticed about Jungkook is that his smiles reach his eyes first. You don’t need to see his lips to know he’s holding in a laugh. The little stars in his irises and the crinkles in the outer corners blow his facade. “You okay, Bambi?”

“Control your dick, Jeon,” you sneer.

“Can’t,” he pouts, wrapping his palm around his tree-trunk-sized base while kicking his pants aside, “he wants you.” You’re impressed at how quickly he steers the conversation back to sex. Also, personifying his dick? That’s new. Clicking his tongue, Jungkook measures his hard cock across the length of your face. If it wasn’t for the curve, his pretty pink tip would be touching your hairline. “How’s he gonna fit, baby? You sure you can take it?”

The questions were rhetorical, purely dirty talk, but they held a piece of the intimidating truth. “I don’t know,” you respond honestly.

“Have you ever done this before?” Sensing your nerves, he pulls back a bit.

“Only once,” you shiver, recalling the questionable memory. “So I don’t know how good I’ll be at this…”

“Pfft,” he dismisses your concerns, “don’t worry about that.” He pets your cheek and you nuzzle into his touch, thankful for the comforting gesture. Then, Jungkook plops down, shimmying up the bed clumsily until he’s hunkered down in his pillows. Following suit, you turn to face him and begin tying your hair up.

“Wait!” He hollers, stopping you at the elbow. His eyes widen at his own unexpected outburst. “Leave it, please. I like it down…” he coughs, “so pretty.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your frizzy baby hairs shooting wildly in all different directions. Pretty? Regardless, you let go, messy strands falling in loops against your chest and back.

“I have flavored lube if that helps. In my nightstand.”

Of course, Jungkook owns flavored lubricant. It's pretty on-brand for him. But your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you open his top drawer, unveiling almost an entire Adam & Eve store.

That’s a stretch and you’re dramatic.

Still, you stare in wonderment. There’s an unopened pack of condoms, ‘ribbed for her pleasure!’ printed on the front in purple letters. The blue and white wand next to it makes you choke. The Hitachi. It’s much bigger than you expected, but it makes sense. If it’s as powerful as Jungkook boasted, it must need a fucking car battery. You gulp.

“Snooping through my things, Bambi?”

“No,” you squeak, shaking your head. “You have quite the collection here, Mr. Jeon.”

“Mr. Jeon, that’s sexy,” he laughs, making you jump with an unexpected smack to your ass. “See anything you like?”

Cheeks ablaze, you stay focused, finally spotting the little aqua bottle of… blue raspberry flavored lubricant? You pick it up, causing a shiny piece of metal with a little glint of pink to roll out.

“Really, dude?”

Jungkook’s brows furrow in confusion until he sees the silver butt plug, decorated with a pretty pink gem on the end. Absolutely perfect for you. “Oh, yeah,” he snatches the toy from your clammy hand and eyes it with pride. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“I can’t believe you actually bought one.”

“Why not? I said I was going to.”

“I know,” you huff with a nervous snicker, “but I didn’t think you were actually going to do it.”

“I mean,” he looks at you like you’re brainless, “you like anal, no?”

“No!” You shriek defensively. Anal play wasn’t even on your sexual radar...

Well, that’s not entirely truthful.

You enjoyed it the last time you had sex with Jungkook, in the shower, getting stretched out by his thick thumb in your butt. You remember how mindblowing and pleasurable it felt to be full. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he smiles reassuringly. “We don’t have to use it. I just figured it’d be nice to have, in case you wanted to experiment, you know?”

He’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes you ill.

Now that you think about it, your sexuality is basically untapped. You’ve barely scratched the surface of self-discovery. Before Jungkook, you’ve never had a man care about your pleasure, or encourage you to take risks for your own sake. No ulterior motives. Being with Jungkook was like skydiving. Horrifying at first, life-changing once you took the plunge. With him, the parachute was there whether you decided to jump or not. You know that you’re safe, so why not take the plunge?

“Actually, Jungkook,” you stammer, “I kinda wanna try it… the butt plug.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

The conviction in your voice is like a beautiful ballad in his ears. Brick by brick, you’re opening up. Every day spent together, the walls erode a bit more.

“I got the smallest size I could find, see?” He holds the toy up to his thumb to demonstrate. It’s only a little longer, a little thicker. “So it’s not that far off from what you’re used to.”

“Thank you, baby,” you gush, planting a fat kiss on the dough of his cheek. The contrast between his bready, baby face and his razor-sharp jawline makes you dizzy. You need him in your mouth asap. “Can I suck your dick now?”

“Absolutely, but first can you-,” his index finger twirls in a circle. You blink at him blankly. “Ah, fuck it.” Deciding it’d be much easier to move you himself, Jungkook sits up at the waist to spin you until you're face to face with his third leg, resting patiently against his stomach. The modified 69 has you creaming. “Like that…” he mumbles dreamily, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your track pants, tugging them down your thighs to expose your perky behind and glowy cunt.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Innocent little thing…” he whispers, smoothing a palm over your lower back. He leans up to chomp on the fat of your ass cheek, leaving bunny-toothed dents in your skin. A predator eating its prey. “Want help?”

“Please,” you mewl, melting under his touch.

“Spit,” he orders, cupping an inked hand under your mouth. Reluctantly, you spit into his palm. He uses your saliva to wet himself, coating his unbearably hard cock with a few languid pumps. Opening the cap, Jungkook squirts a little drop of lubricant onto his finger. “Taste.”

You softly suck on his fingertip. The liquid is sweet like a blue raspberry jolly rancher, but it’s not nearly as sweet as Jungkook’s deep guttural moan and hooded gaze. So worked up just for you. Only you. Yours.

“This, too,” he coos, bringing the butt plug up to your lips, “suck it.”

Seeing him this needy and touch-starved was doing things to you. Maybe you should ignore him more often, if it meant that he would be this feral. You comply, wrapping your lips around the icy metal.

“Being so good, baby,” he affirms, resting the drenched plug against his solid stomach before squirting a generous amount of lubricant onto his length, tugging until he’s glistening with a sticky blue sheen. Big and pretty. “Just start with the tip, alright? Go slow.”

You nod, mesmerized by the little bead of dew resting on the slit of his pretty pink head. Well, it’s a bit blue now. Cotton candy. Yummy.

“Stick your tongue out.” You do, hovering closer. Jungkook taps his length against your tongue with nasty, wet smacking noises. “You want me so bad, don’t you?”

You nod impatiently, making your flat tongue brush against the crown of his leaking cock

“Fuck,” he groans, “put it in your mouth.”

There are a few reasons why you find blowjobs problematic. Unfortunately, you were cursed with an annoyingly overactive gag reflex. Very unideal for dick sucking. However, your primary concerns were taste and texture. But Jungkook’s cock feels like butter when you take it into your mouth. Smooth and silky. And the lubricant made him candy-flavored.

“You like that taste, Bambi?” Jungkook chuckles at how eager and dutiful you look, licking and sucking on his swollen tip like a lollipop. You hum in response, slowly swirling your tongue around his tip with purpose. Giving you a hand, literally and figuratively, Jungkook starts stroking the shaft, stimulating the parts of him you have yet to gobble up. “Want more?” You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but you agree anyway, completely entranced by him. With that, Jungkook squeezes under the tip, and you feel a tiny burst of precum hit your tastebuds.

He’s so sexy you could die.

Moaning, you clench your thighs together for some much needed friction, causing a single drop of wetness to trickle down your leg. Right before his very eyes. He’s never been so hungry, and it would be so easy to just…

“Jungkook!” You moan so loudly you’re sure everyone on campus can hear it. He had laid his tongue flat, trailing your arousal back up to your pussy and then sensually dipping between your folds in one hot lick. He even traces higher, prodding against your other hole until you’re seeing stars.

“Watch your teeth,” he winces when you get carried away, “be gentle, baby.” Peeping a shy apology, you curl your lips over your teeth and slide down past the tip until you’re halfway down his length. You focus on your breathing, nostrils expanding as you inhale deeply. “That’s it, take more.”

So captivated by his ‘yeahs’ and ‘uh huhs’, you miss the sound of a cap clicking open. Suddenly, you feel a cold drizzle slide between your cheeks, before a pair of warm hands spread the slippery substance all over. He uses the residual to thoroughly coat the butt plug.

“Gonna put it in now.” He spreads you open with one hand, pressing the silver against your clenched muscle. “Let me know if anything feels off.”

The initial push is a bit much. You pull off of him with a wet pop, whimpering as he sluggishly inserts the foreign object. He stops at the sound of your whines.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah- fuck,” you grunt, “big, thas all. Please, keep going.”

“I mean, it’s not that big,” Jungkook chuckles, running some saliva over the toy for more moisture, “you’re taking it well, though.” Slowly but surely, he works you open. The noises you moan around his cock are obscene. Not because it hurts, but because it’s so satisfying.

“Feels good, Koo…”

“Sheesh,” he breathes, staring in astonishment at the pink gem in your ass, “it’s so fucking pretty. So sexy.” In his fucked out, head empty state, Jungkook bucks up, shoving all eight of his curved inches down your throat. He doesn’t realize what happened until you pull off with a gag and teary eyes.

“Bambi,” he coos wearily and fear ridden. “I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.”

You send him the meanest, fiercest glare you can conjure up, hoping his conscience burns just as much as your throat does.

“No, come on,” he pleads in despair, reaching for you as you crawl away, “I’m sorry. It was an accident. I wo-,”

You shut him up by hoisting a shaky leg over his hip, straddling him. “You really can’t control yourself, can you?” You hover over him with a teasing smile. How could you possibly stay mad at him when he looked like Tuxedo Mask? The dreamy love interest of your favorite cartoon.

He sighs in relief, panic leaving his body as fast as it came. “No, I can’t,” he smiles softly, shaking his head and snaking both arms around your waist, “not with you.”

And at that moment, you swear you’ve never been happier.

The closeness you felt was indescribable. Not physically, although his python grip was warm and comfortable. It was all emotional. You’re spiraling out of control, heading flipping and stomach somersaulting, but it’s okay—a contained type of chaos. Jungkook feels it too. The shift in the air. The subtle, yet painfully obvious, change in your dynamic. You’re different this time around. A little more outgoing. A little more fearless, as you sit on top of him. He loves it. He thinks he might even love…

“You gonna ride me, Bambi?”

“Mhm.” You feel like a schoolgirl again when you kiss him. That nervousness, wrapped in unbearable excitement, whenever you passed your first crush in the halls. Yeah, that's how you feel right now, looking down at the most stunning person you’ve ever experienced.

Sparks. Fireworks. Butterflies.

You and Jungkook exchange shy smiles when your hands touch, reaching for his erection, desperate to close the gap and become one. So ready to connect your bodies, minds, and hearts in the most intimate way. Clumsily, you fail at first. You’re both so wet that his flushed tip slips, completely missing your entrance and sliding past your clit.

“Sorry,” you chirp abashedly.

“That’s okay,” he pipes, holding himself up for you, “try again.” Just the thick head of his cock resting against your folds is enough to know that there’s going to be an adjustment period. A stretch. There always was, Jungkook is fucking huge. But you have a feeling that this new position would hit differently, making him feel bigger, harder, longer. With a firm grip on your hip, he guides you down onto his piercing length. A symphony of moans and sighs fills the room.

“How’s that?”

You’ve never felt so full.

The butt plug makes the squeeze even tighter, pushing his cock right into your g-spot. The burn ignited a mind-numbing fire inside of you. That, or he was just so deep that you felt him in your stomach. “‘S okay,” you whimper, gnawing on your lip and clinging onto him for stability, “really deep like this, Koo.”

“Take your time,” he gruffs, wincing under the dig of your petite fingers, making little crescent indents in his biceps. Amid sex, the tension in your body served as a reminder that you’re still learning. He was doing his best to be good, but the way your pussy just swallowed him up like that, triggered something primal. Tightest, wettest pussy he’s ever had the blessing of penetrating. Biting his tongue until his mouth tastes metallic, Jungkook battles the urge to thrust up into you until you’re dumb and drooling. He’s trying so hard to be good. The internal struggle is heard in his voice when he speaks, strained and gravely. “Start slow.”

Eventually, the tiny licks of pain transform into a milky, insatiable hunger. When you look down at him, all you see is the base of his thick neck, head thrown back as he succumbs to the gratification of your walls. ‘Wow, what a man,’ you think to yourself. Your man. Encouraged by your eagerness to please, you begin sloppily jerking your hips at a fast pace. No flow or rhythm.

“Easy, easy,” Jungkook shushes with a grin, stopping you at the waist. “Why are you in such a hurry, hm? We have all night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he laughs, grabbing the shaky hands that are resting awkwardly on your thighs. “Let’s get your form right first. Lean on me.” With the command, your palms are placed flat on his broad, solid pecs. Already, the angle and leverage work with his curve deliciously. “And it’ll probably feel better for you, if you moved like this instead,” Jungkook grips your ass, rocking you into a grinding motion. Instead of up and down, your cunt drags back and forth on his throbbing shaft.

He’s right. It feels so much better like this. The dreamy sensation has you moaning and moving like a pornstar.

To be honest, this wasn’t even the type of video Jungkook clicked on when looking through his PornHub feed in the mornings. Absently scrolling past orgies and blowjobs like the daily newspaper. He preferred things fast. Pummeling every inch into you before pulling out swiftly, leaving only the very tip inside to keep you needy and begging. But fuck, the slow, sensual rolls of your hips were turning his brain to mush. And the way you’re dripping down his balls might make him demote missionary to his second favorite position. He’s hypnotized, staring up at your perky tits, rippling and bouncing freely above him.

“Yeah, baby…” you cheer, carding your fingers through his thick, healthy hair as he sits up at the waist, latching onto your nipple. The gentle runs turn into harsh tugs when he takes the sensitive teat between his teeth. The overstimulation makes you hiss.

“Taste so good,” he huffs, “I can’t keep my mouth off of you.” Slicking his wispy bangs away, Jungkook leans back, stealing a naughty peek at you fucking yourself on him. Using him just how he likes. He spreads his legs apart, praying it’ll help you sink down even further, if possible. “Yeah, take it all…”

“Love taking it all…”

That hot, gooey ballooning is already forming in his balls. The pooling in his shaft is a warning; he’s going to bust soon. Jungkook maintains a strict ladies first policy, so he needs to think of something. Fast. A lightbulb switches on in his head when your neglected clit glides across his smooth pelvis.

“Hold on.” With a hand on your lower back, Jungkook squeezes you against him, preventing you from toppling over as he leans to the side and fiddles around in his special drawer. You gulp when he takes out the infamous vibrator.

“You look terrified,” he jokes, pointing out your fearful gaze and plump lips, currently forming a cute little ‘o’ as you observe the wand.

“Hm, I wonder why?” You scoff at him in fiend ignorance. “Oh, it’s superrr strong, most girls don’t even last five minutes,” you mimic in your best Jeon Jungkook impression. Voice dropping an octave to match his deep, even tone. You think it’s pretty accurate, but his melodic giggles say otherwise.

“I mean, it is,” he confirms, powering on the vibrator, “but there’s different settings, like, here’s the lowest.” The white crown is placed on your inner thigh, letting you get accustomed to the movement before he uses it to destroy you, and your most private areas. The low rumble travels up the muscle in your leg until it reaches your clit with a faint hum. “See? Not bad, right?”

Wrong.

The lack of foreplay on your end, had you teetering on the edge. So when Jungkook presses the strong, creamy buzz to your swollen bud, you’re a goner.

“Fuck!” You wail. “This is the lowest speed?”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“I- oh!” Evilly, Jungkook moves the toy down, nudging the rounded corner underneath your hood, directly stimulating your little bundle of nerves. “I… don’t know… can’t… think right now…”

“Have nothing to say now, huh smart girl?”

Oh, so this was your punishment.

If you could even call it that. You’ve never felt so fucking good.

The rapture coursing through your vein forces you to stop, clawing at Jungkook’s shoulders. He picks up where you left off, rutting into you with vigor, hitting all of your sweet spots perfectly. That, combined with the smooth plug in your ass and the vibrator on your clit, has you overwhelmed and out of control.

“Fuck! Jungkook, I can’t- too much.”

You’re cumming before he even has the chance to object. Thighs quivering. Arms shaking. Eyes rolling back into oblivion. The darkness is disrupted by lightning bolts of white, hot pleasure. Your entire body tingles like you’ve just stuck your acrylic into an outlet. Jungkook guides you to the light as you brace the crashing tsunami of your orgasm.

A literal tsunami.

“You squirted.”

“I did?”

“A little.” Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to witness it. Just relished in the warm splashes on his pelvis, his upper thighs, and his cock. You nuzzle into his shoulder, groaning disgruntledly in shame. Jungkook humors you by resting his cheek on top of your head, swaying subtly as he holds you. “Guess you’re not my Bambi anymore. Deer can’t swim.”

“They can swim,” you murmur. “You don’t shit about deer, Jungkook.”

“You’re more like a fish or something,” he coos happily, ignoring your correction. “...Ponyo.”

“You like Studio Ghibli movies?” You ask, picking up your heavy head and looking at him with big, animated eyes. “Since when?”

“Since before my balls dropped,” he responds curtly.

“I didn’t know that…”

“I think there’s a lot about me you don’t know yet, baby.”

There’s no malice in his words. They’re not a sneaky jab, or an attempt to make you feel guilty. They’re just the truth.

“Can I ask you something, Kook?”

“Of course, you can,” he hums, friskily nipping at the apple of your cheek.

‘Do you like anime in general? Or just Studio Ghibli?’

‘If so, what’s your favorite? Oh my God, this is so exciting!’

‘Is that your dog in those pictures?’

“You’re crazy, and yes, that’s my dog,” he chuckles at your endless string of curiosity. “But how about I nut first?” As if on cue, his member twitches inside of you, reminding you that he’s still hard and waiting patiently for his release. “And then you can interview me. Sounds good?”

“Yes,” you say, cheeks scalding. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” Jungkook repeats, pecking you lovingly. "I'm gonna lay you down now..." Strategically, he maneuvers you onto your side, plopping down behind you. You curl into his frame, back arching with the rise and fall of his panting chest, his beautifully sketched arm wrapped around your waist. The other rests on the bed, sticking straight out for you to use as a pillow. Your top leg is thrown over his hip, spreading you enough to run his length over your puffy cunt. Grabbing the Hitachi, he brings it back to your engorged clit. The touch makes you yelp.

“Mm, I love how sensitive you get,” he whispers, licking a hot, needy stripe against your cheek. You peep out a confused noise, cowering under his tongue. Yuck. He’s so gross… but so sexy. “It’s not even turned on yet, baby. What would happen if I put it all the way up?”

“I think I’d fall in love with you…”

His heavy breaths stop as locks eyes with you. You can't distinguish the iris from the pupil. It all blends together like the night sky, filled with little stars of raw emotion. He’s pondering something, dewy lips parting and closing as the thought fades.

Nothing is said, but you don't mind. Because when he enters you, rocking into you with languid, passionate thrusts, you feel it. The unspoken words surround you like the weather. They’re warm like a summer breeze.

“Mine, isn’t it?” He speaks against your lips, Hitachi set to the max, going full throttle on your nub. “Say it.”

“This pussy is yours,” you cry, crystal streams clouding your vision and streaming down towards his arm.

“Not that,” he chokes through gritted teeth, trying to postpone his orgasm. Waiting for you to say the magic words and open Pandora’s box. “You, baby. Tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips curling in as he bathes in your dripping cunt. His strokes become short and uneven as he reaches the point of no return. “I’m yours, too.”

The declaration of reciprocal affection and want fills your chest before shooting to your core. You cum together, sighing into each other's mouths as pure, intense bliss takes over every square inch of your body. Every cell tingles. You try to kiss, but the seal of your lips is broken by your needy cries. During the mutual orgasm, Jungkook trembles. Chest, legs, and arms all quivering in unison as he milks both of you dry. Painting your walls with warm, white spurts until he has nothing left to give. The Hitachi isn’t turned off until you beg.

Euphoria.

When you’re done, neither of you can bring yourself to disconnect. Sex left your sweaty bodies idle and fucked out, but the intimacy of it all kept you rooted in place. Airy kisses are planted on your shoulder. Light scratches outline his tattoos. His seed is hot inside you in the most disgustingly comfortable way. You don’t move for a while, laying in each other's aura until the rain clouds fade and the milky way can be seen by the naked eye. Twinkling lights of stars and headlights flicker against his skin as you count his breaths. They grow more steady as the minutes pass.

“I have a plan.”

Intrigued, you crane your neck, quirking a brow at the man behind you. “A plan?

Without warning, Jungkook expertly gets to his knees. Your ankles are hauled up by your head, manicured toes tickling his cotton pillowcase. Folded in half at the waist.

“Jungkook!”

“Bambi,” he huffs above you, softening cock still tucked inside of you. “Hold your legs for me.”

Oh. You know what he wants.

“Baby,” you giggle flirtatiously, hands curling under your thighs to keep them in place, “what are you doing?” He must want another round. Excitement bubbles in your squished chest and cramped stomach at the thought of having him twice in one night.

“If you stay like this, I should be able to run to the bathroom without getting cum on my bed.”

“Are you kidding me?” You spew in disbelief and disappointment.

“Baby, please,” he groans with pleading eyes. “It’ll take two seconds, I promise.”

“Fine,” you oblige with an overexaggerated pout, “but hurry. This hurts!”

With your permission, he scurries off into the bathroom. A light turns on and the faucet runs. He must be getting something to clean up with. Despite your best efforts, and the ache in your bent neck, his baby juice leaks out of you, cascading down your butt with impeccable speed.

“Jungkook, It’s dripping!”

The door slams against the wall with a loud thud as he bursts through, wet cloth in hand. A second too late. “No!” He sighs in annoyance, dropping to his knees on the mattress, angrily watching a fat white droplet splash onto his black comforter. “Really?”

“What was I supposed to do?” You shout back playfully. The whole situation was dumb and immature, but you can’t stop laughing. You cackle like a madwoman when he runs the damp towel through your folds. “‘M ticklish,” you respond dazily when he raises a brow at you. The giggles turn into a sharp hiss when he slowly removes the plug from your swollen hole.

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook coos, spreading your cheeks to get a better view of the slightly red, inflamed area.

“A little, but I’m okay. I promise.”

“Good,” he hums, smacking your ass, hinting that he wants you off the bed. “Go pee while I change the sheets.”

There’s a change in your appearance when you look in his bathroom mirror. The girl reflected, wearing her boyfriend’s black, pine-scented, oversized hoodie, seems… happy. She is happy. The resting bitch face that Mina often teased you for is completely gone. All you see is glowy skin, bright eyes, and puffy cheeks. A tiny hand comes up to massage them. Ow. They hurt from smiling so much. From laughing like a maniac. You’ve never seen yourself so lively. You’ve never felt so alive.

With a content sigh, you skip back into the bedroom.

Jungkook is already settled, snuggled under the clean bedding like a big baby. The sound of the door opening makes him jump, waking up from the two minute nap he accidentally fell into. Turning to you, he smiles lazily.

You’ll never get used to that face of his. That beautiful face.

“I’m knocked, Bambi,” he yawns, opening his big arms. “C’mere.”

Heart heavy with warmth, you climb between the sheets. You lay on your back, preparing for him to sink his head into your full breasts like feathered pillows. His favorite cuddle position.

“We never ate the pancakes,” you frown, noticing the plastic bags on his nightstand when you reach over, shutting his lamp off.

“‘S okay. We’ll eat ‘em in the morning.”

“Ew, Jungkook,” you scoff revoltingly. “They’ll be rotten by then.”

“You’re rotten but I still eat you.”

Hm. Touche.

“You know,” he lulls, lips smacking together. It’s a habit that only comes about when sleep clouds his mind. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met.”

“Liar,” you whisper with a smile, twirling the loose strands at the nape of his neck. Just the way he likes. “You called me a bitch, the day we met.”

“You’re so dramatic. I did not call you a bitch.” The way his tired, hooded eyes blare open at your false statement makes you laugh. “I said you were bitchy. There’s a difference.”

You recount the memory.

“You know what, I like you. You’re a little bitchy but-,” he slurred at the end of the night, helping you gather the discarded solo cups, "Also innocent. Kinda like a baby deer. What the fuck was that movie?”

“But underneath that attitude… I don’t know- There was just… something about you. Something special. And I knew that I could bring that side out of you, eventually."

“Bambi! Right… I can’t wait to ruin you.”

God, why are you so emotional today?

Tears pile into your waterline. They’re not from sadness or anger.

Laying in bed with Jungkook, who’s sighing peacefully as he drifts off to sleep, you can’t believe that this is your life.

After a few minutes of silence, you realize that there’s no way you’re following him into dreamland. You’re way too wired and ecstatic. Who could blame you?

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

No answer.

“Jungkook.”

A grunt of acknowledgment.

“Are you awake?”

“No…”

“But you just responded, though...”

Silence.

“Can we watch Sailor Moon?”

Crickets.

"Jungkook?"

“Baby!” He whines, high-pitched and huffy as he turns his head in frustration. “‘M sleepin’!’”

“Jeez,” you roll your eyes, still sluggishly playing with his dark ropes. “Someone’s grumpy…”

There’s another beat of silence before he speaks.

“Fine,” he groans dramatically, twisting back to his original position with a smushed frown against your boob. “I’ll watch one episode. One.”

You squeak excitedly, pecking the top of his head in appreciation, pulling out your phone and turning on your favorite series with glee. He puts up a good fight; loopily murmuring ‘wow’ and ‘no way’ whenever you share a little fun fact about the character lore. Halfway through, the sound of Usagi and Rei arguing is overtaken by Jungkook’s soft snores.

Soft for now. You know once he hits the REM phase, he’ll turn into a lawnmower.

With a defeated sigh, you close the streaming app and put your phone away, cuddling closer to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

You're dying to finish the season. At this rate, it's going to take you guys forever to watch Sailor Moon in its entirety. But that’s okay, you suppose, because forever with Jungkook doesn’t sound that bad at all.

it's requited love yall :')

4K notes · View notes

zazter-den · 8 months

Text

Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

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nyimasu · 8 months

Text

─── WISTERIA, LUST, BLACK DRAGON

🀦. BLOSSOMS OF INK, INDEX

SYNOPSIS — Getо̄ and Gojо̄ are business partners and opened a studio together in the middle of Tokyo. You are one of their most loyal clients, especially since Shoko is a friend in common. One day, you finally decide on getting a tattoo, and that's where the magic happens: under Suguru's more than capable hands.

The rest is history.

CONTENT WARNING! — tattoo artist!getо̄ au, afab!reader (female anatomy and long, curly hair + tattoos), you're smitten with him as he is with you, mutual pining, gojо̄ is his own warning -> nipple piercing, toji is wearing a maid dress due to a bet he lost, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), multiple positions, cock piercing (getо̄), hair pulling, lots of pet names | WORD COUNT — 8.7k ( ao3 link )

ANYA'S CORNER—this series is my creature and I'm so proud of it that I want to post all three parts on tumblr again aw there's lots more for you to find out about this slice of universe I created from scratches, so stick around if you want to ehe Hope you like this and see you soon!

The needles penetrating your skin didn’t hurt at all.

They went back and forth on your body without being too invasive, even though you were getting a tattoo in one of the most sensible spots of the human body.

The lack of pain was all thanks to the delicate touch of the young man who was holding the little machine, his face half covered by a black mask.

Your best friend had already taken her leave the moment she realised her presence was unnecessary (much to your complaint): according to what she had whispered before waving bye, she really thought the artist was into you since the first moment you walked into the studio to discuss with him about the tattoo.

Now that you were all alone with him, you could totally understand Shoko's words. And they rang in the back of your head whenever you locked eyes with the long-haired boy, the intensity in its gaze as sharp as the edge of a knife. As if it wasn’t enough, you assumed the girl set up a sort of blind date with him, since you and the boy had her as a common friend.

You even found yourself gulping several times.

Oh heart of mine, be still you repeated in your head every time he looked at you.

«How’s going?» he asked while wiping the excess ink off the expanse of skin he was working on, «I noticed you tensed a bit when I got close to the back.»

«It’s going great! Oh, it's because my back has always been sensitive but don't worry. I thought I’d be in much more pain than I actually am, so thank you for everything.»

«No problem. Working on someone as stunning as you is never a bother, petal.»

You both froze at the same time. The pet name he’d just called you with should’ve made you uncomfortable, but it didn’t. Rather, you were sure your cheeks raised straightaway at that, and you cursed your shyness for showing your true colours so soon.

He has complimented you with ease, such a feeling that had never really belonged to you. And that was one of the reasons why you never had many relationships.

You’ve never been good at reading between the lines, either, but something in the way he said it suggested you to do so.

Maybe Geto Suguru wasn’t as subtle as Shoko declared him to be. That sleep-deprived fox really set you up.

«T-thanks, you’re too kind.»

«That’s not something I get to hear very often. I thank you for saying so» the low buzzing of the tattoo machine soothed your ears once again, «may I?»

Your eyes found him looking at your braid, asking for permission to move it aside. You nodded, shivering the moment his form came into frame and his gloved hand brushed against your abused skin. He gently pushed the braid away and you imagined his mischievous lips stretching into a smile behind the mask.

Damn, he really was handsome.

«There we go. If you wait a bit longer, your tattoo will be done and you can get up to stretch a bit.»

Since you were laying down on your right side, the tattoo artist had to lean over you, almost half resting his weight on you. The moment he took position again, you couldn't do anything else but take peaks at him now and then.

Yep, he still was horribly handsome and the fact he had prettier hair than yours aggravated your mood even more.

You deserved to have straight, long and healthy hair too. You got stuck with a long one, yes, but it was really curly and difficult to manage. Braids were one of the few methods to keep it at bay.

Suguru’s hair reflected the artificial light above him, strands of lush pitch-black silk akin to a panther's mantle possessively caressing his high cheekbones and then down, ending right in the middle of his broad back.

And his eyes… wow.

There was nothing to say about them but being careful not to lose every fragment of your psyche into their depth.

The sound of the tattoo machine prevailed over your thoughts and you finally raised your head to let it rest against your right arm. The professional bed you were laying on was very comfortable, so it was no big deal staying still while Geto's hands worked wonders on you.

The needles started to work on the rib cage some minutes later, and their sudden attack in such a soft spot had your muscles stiffening.

Nothing serious, but it took you off guard.

«I know it hurts like a bitch, but try to hang on tight, okay? You’ve been doing amazing so far. Actually, if I have to be honest with you, you’re one of the few clients I made tattoos for that never complained about the pain. You're a tough one.»

«I have a very high pain tolerance» you explained once your jaw unclenched, «and this is not the first tattoo I got in a sensible spot. I’m used to it.»

«Oh? Do you have others? Where?»

«You haven’t seen them yet? What a liar.»

Geto’s cheeks rose and you've never wanted to see his dimples as much as you did at that moment. Stupid mask.

Girl, what got into you today? Get a grip.

He was now staring right into your soul and you took advantage of the situation to get a better look at his half-hidden face. Despite the annoying obstacle, you could clearly see the contrast between the devilish and unbothered aura surrounding his form and the slightest hint of fatigue under his eyes. You thought it'd be so easy to stretch out a hand and caress that annoying nuance awa-

«I was too busy looking at your face, petal. I have a better look at a girl’s body after I've been on a few dates with her, but I can make an exception with you if you want.»

Now it was your turn to giggle and you couldn’t know it, but the way your nose scrunched and your eyes turned into a pair of half moons every time you laughed melted what was left of those thick ice barriers Suguru had erected around his heart, right after the ugly breakup he went through.

He also knew you had a habit of bringing a hand on your mouth to hide it but, given the circumstance you were currently in, he watched as you just inhaled to calm yourself.

The most beautiful creature his eyes ever had the privilege to lay on.

«I wouldn’t mind going on a date with you, you know.»

«You what-» the artist started but as soon as he put down the tattoo machine, your fingers chased after a strand of his hair.

It had been as natural as breathing.

Once they were wrapped around it, you tucked the strand behind his ear with such elegance that the boy was scared you might hear his heart skip a beat.

He acted all tough and badass around his friends/coworkers, but if pretty people touched him… well, he could fall apart right away.

The smile you put on after he got closer was self-explanatory.

You were the most clueless human being that ever walked on Earth. However, if you caught the signals at the right time, you turned into a completely different person.

Suguru was starting to see it with his own eyes.

You exuded charisma and eroticism with everything you did or said, especially when you stared at him through the fan of your lashes. Geto had always felt weak in the knees for gorgeous souls like you.

He loved it.

«Well, if you say so then I wouldn’t mind inviting you to my place for a drink tonight. Don’t look at me like that!» he shook his head after seeing the sceptical look on your face.

«I’m not that kind of person. Consent and respect are what I look for in everything, whether it is a nightstand or not. Think about it.»

And you did, even after you got up from the bed after six hours spent laying down in the tattoo studio right at the centre of Tokyo.

Suguru plopped on the chair close to the counter for a few minutes, cracking both his hands and neck to relieve some soreness accumulated during the day.

Without looking away from you, of course.

There was a hint of possessiveness in his eyes, maybe because the tattoo turned out to be even more beautiful than the draft you both created.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you were only wearing a lace bra and high-waisted pants.

Whatever the reason was, he couldn’t bring himself to shift attention to other stuff.

You, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to his thoughts. How could you be when the complex design of the permanent masterpiece in the mirror was staring back at you?

Wisteria was blooming right under your breast, covering half of the rib cage just to end right at the end of the right elbow, its branches taking a huge portion of your skin in a warming and inspirational hug.

«This is beautiful!» you screamed in excitement, eyes meeting him through the mirror.

«I’m sorry I took away a day of work from you. I’ll make sure I make up for it tonight.»

His eyebrows flew upward and you winked.

I won this round, my dear tattoo artist.

«I thought I’d already told you not to worry about it. But I'm impressed: you went through a very long session and you’re not even remotely fazed by it.

And yes, the tattoo turned out pretty good. I’m glad you love it.

Oh» he grabbed the ointment on the counter and walked back to you, «sit here. Yes, perfect. Let me apply some lotion all over the tattoo before you go. We don’t want it to get infected, do we?»

You propped yourself on an elbow to help Geto out the best you could until he was done.

«Thank you again.»

«Thank you to you, petal.» he finally took off his gloves and mask and threw them in the trash can.

And only then you internally sighed.

Finally free of anything that might hide his beauty, his face caressed by the fading sun rays, he was even more beautiful.

He looked like an ethereal being with the same elegance of a hunting panther.

The aforementioned was patiently waiting for you to dress again, eventually proceeding to escort you outside.

You two were so close that his hot breath fanned over your face. As you handed him the money, he bent forward and your fingers touched for a brief moment.

Again, he had no business being the most perfect man you ever seen. And those fingers were a dangerous temptation. Only to think he'd been onto you but at the same time didn’t almost drove you crazy.

You wanted to feel him everywhere.

The sudden urge to thrust a hand in his hair helped you snap out of it, your digits still mid-air after he took the money.

«I can come back here tonight for closing time. Is that okay for you?»

«Absolutely yes. And by the way, I already found one of your other tattoos.»

Before you could even reply, his plump lips were on your neck. Specifically, behind your ear.

Right where the tattoo of a rose had taken its place three years prior.

Shook by the abrupt intimacy, you tried to step away, but one of his arms encircled your waist.

«Don’t.»

You were a breath away from drooling when his forehead crashed onto yours, his body taut under the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing. Much to your displeasure, his tattoos were all hidden by it today, but the hair was in full display. Yet fascinated by it, you raised a hand to rub another strand when other thoughts got in the way.

«May I?»

The boy complied, even though he didn’t know what you had in mind. Escaping his grip, you took off one of the hairbands on your wrist and used it to tie his hair into a man bun, the front strands framing his high cheekbones.

Geto enjoyed how delicate your touch was, but his eyes rolled in the back of the head when you accidentally pulled his hair to fix it.

«Uhm.»

You looked over to see what happened... only to find his eyes half lidded, lips parted to let out a muffled groan. The sound went straight between your legs, but you quickly got a grip on yourself and pressed a kiss on his jawline.

«See you tonight, then.»

Retrieving your bag from the sofa, you turned around to see the artist resting his head against the wall, the glossiness of his hair enticing beyond words.

He didn’t say anything back, just placed a thumb over your lower lip when you were within reach again. Then, making little circles on it, he licked his own.

«I can’t wait to find where your other tattoos are, you naughty thing.»

Your tongue playfully touched the tip of his thumb and he smirked.

You eventually gave in and admitted that there was so much sexual tension you could feel it in every gesture that elapsed between you two.

What was wrong with finding out where that hunger could lead you to?

Of course you did forget about something while on your way back to the tattoo studio. You always lived in your own world, but that day you’d really outdone yourself.

«Damn it.» you muttered to yourself half kicking the street half punching the air.

You had spent the last four hours getting ready for the date, looking for the best outfit -only to end up wearing the same jeans you had before and a cute crop top- and what food you wanted to bring at Suguru’s place because let’s be honest: you didn’t want to get drunk on an empty stomach. You tended to be extremely clingy if super tipsy, so food was needed.

But your forgetful ass left it right on the table.

Carefully wrapped and all.

The neon lights of the modest sign outside Geto’s studio were still on. The boy seemed still in the middle of a session with another client, so you decided to both wait for him and kill some time by running towards the nearest convenience store.

Priorities first.

Food.

Ten minutes later you were walking out of there, zaru soba and onigiris in a bag and heart slamming against your chest. You knew for sure it was the artist’s favourite food because every time you stayed over at his studio to work on the tattoo, especially during meal time, he ordered zaru soba for both of you.

It was time for you to pay him back for everything, starting from that.

Feeling as if someone was watching you, your eyes searched for the source of your wariness and found it a few metres away.

The dark-haired boy was waiting for you, a shoulder leaned against the studio’s outside wall. Hair still tied in the manbun, he had looked up from his phone again to stare at you and bam, your mind collapsed onto itself.

He got more and more beautiful with every encounter of yours, and it hadn't even been five hours since the last one.

To say it wasn’t fair would’ve been an understatement.

«Hello, petal. I saw you coming, but you were already heading to the convenience store before I could tell you I was ready, so I waited here. What did you buy?»

«Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were still working so I left for a while.

But look!» you leaned forward to let him see what you had in the bag.

«Since I know you skip your meals if you’re hella busy, I thought it’d be nice to have something to eat after work.

Onigiri?»

Suguru’s smile grew into a much bigger one and accepted the rice ball. If he hadn’t already been head over heels for you, he definitely would've started from then.

After leaning closer to your outstretched hand, he bit the ball of rice still in your hand and a little sigh of pleasure graced his lips. He hadn’t eaten in hours, so he was glad you brought something to munch on while heading to his place.

Before Geto could do anything else, however, a high-pitched scream coming from inside the studio had both you and him almost jump out of your skin.

What the heck was happening there?

«Did someone hit their foot or something?» worried and bit out of your mind — Suguru just ate half onigiri off your hand with lust possessively caressing his pupils —, you welcomed that heaven-sent distraction and crooked your head towards the open front door.

And a startled laugh erupted from your chest right away.

Geto Suguru’s best friend and business partner Gojo Satoru was currently quarrelling with a man dressed in a maid dress, and you realised it was the latter who yelled. And rightfully so, because Satoru had had the brilliant idea to slap the other man’s ass as soon as he had crouched down to pick up a trash bag.

Mind you, the skirt did nothing to cover his flesh.

«Leave me the fuck alone, Gojo.»

«Why would I? You lost the bet with me and Megumi, so suck it up. Punishment fits the crime.

You’ll have to clean the studio with this cute outfit on for the rest of the week, and I can do whatever I want with you.»

The shorter man went to hit Gojo with the plastic bag across the head, but stopped when your giggles filled the air. The poisonous words he was about to spit on him died out in his throat, and he turned alongside Gojo to make out who you were.

It was Satoru that clapped his hands together, the faintest hint of jest mixed with masculine pride tilting his lips upward as he looked up and down at you.

«Good evening, beautiful. Do you have an appointment? I’ll be ready in a sec.»

«I’m sorry, I don’t have one. I-» what were you going to say, anyway? That you accidentally eavesdropped their conversation while the tattoo artist behind you was about to suck your fingers?

Luckily to you, the man with shreds of light in his eyes and snowy hair preceded you, his elbows resting against the counter close to Geto’s workplace as his front faced yours.

«No need to worry about Toji over here. He looks as if he hates me, but he doesn't. I’m actually convinced he fancies me one tiny bit.

Oi, is that a new tattoo? Did you get it today?»

The other man briefly waved at you, then flipped off Gojo and walked away. He couldn’t disappear in the back of the place faster than he did, sighing profusely that “he was going to have a looong conversation with both Megumi and Gojo once he returned the dress to Tsumiki.”

«What? Ah», you laughed again once you followed his eyes on your right arm. «I did. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?»

«Stunning.» for a moment you thought he wasn’t talking about the tattoo at all, but like you’ve already said, you weren’t that quick at taking hints when it came to flirting. Not if you were too shy to reciprocate.

And right now, your mind was set on another equally gorgeous and talented man.

So you brushed off the compliment with a polite smile as you stared at his pectorals. More specifically, the erected buds brushing against the thin fabric of the shirt.

Hold on, it wasn’t just nipples. Oh my God.

This time it was Satoru who figured out what you were looking at and smirked, the action highlighting the tiny metal bars hiding under the garment.

«Hey, wanna come in? Even if you don’t have an appointment it’s fine. I might even give you a discount.» he straightened his back and slowly made his way towards you. At that your feet moved backward on their own accord. Out of instinct.

For he was akin to a hungry predator ready to jump on his prey the moment he felt your blood rushing more and more to your racing heart.

«I think an orbital would suit your ears the best. Or a tongue piercing, maybe?»

Suddenly the smell of cigarettes hit your nostrils, soon followed by the curtain of white smoke spreading behind you.

«Back off, Satoru. She’s with me.»

The piercing artist halted before he could cup your face and met Suguru’s gaze above your head. Pouting as his eyes trailed down your body one last time, he stepped back and raised his hands in defeat. Feigning faux guilt, of course.

«I know. I could recognise your style everywhere and you only had one client who requested a tattoo of a wisteria on the right arm.

Just wanted to make sure she was more into you than me, and she is. Usually people fall at my feet in less than three seconds when I give them the bedroom eyes, but she didn’t bulge one bit. Congratulations.»

«You’re such a slut.»

You couldn’t help but grin at that, watching the two men coming back at one another’s throat with delight filling your mind. They were two peas in a pod.

«Okay petal, time to go.» firm was Suguru’s grip on you when he wrapped his arm around your waist, and you let him with a little yelp.

If he wanted, he could’ve lifted you off the ground with a single hand.

«Have fun guys. Oh!»

With one hand strategically placed on Geto’s face, distancing him enough to prevent him from hearing what Gojo was about to whisper in your ear.

And when he did, you were glad Geto was holding you.

Ten minutes later you were taking a walk with the tattoo artist because, according to the boy, his flat wasn’t that far from the studio. So you followed his lead, eating and talking about a lot of topics… except the one Gojo asked you to keep for yourself until you and Suguru were home. You still couldn’t believe what that flirty man had confessed.

However, now you were discussing fashion while a tuna onigiri stuffed your cheeks.

«You wear harnesses everyday and you’re coming for my style? Are you serious? You’re wearing one even now, the hell.»

«Of course I am. And for the record, I’m not the one here who wears revealing clothes 24/7.»

«I beg your pardon?»

You were getting all worked up over the crop top ‒ which wasn’t gauzy, bloody hell ‒ when he suddenly stopped. You were both facing the door of what you supposed was the boy’s place.

After he opened the door, you expected him to walk in and welcome you in the flat. Wrong, because he first looked at you, then a half-whispered confession escaped his lips that you heard anyway.

«But I’ve never said I was mad about it. I have a thing for see-through clothes.»

«I swear to God, if you don’t stop-»

His words cut through your rambling. «What? What do you want to do to me?»

He didn't give you time to prepare yourself because practised, long fingers rested behind your neck as he pulled you in for a sudden yet hasty kiss that soon turned your knees into jelly.

You soon obliged in consent to let him deepen the kiss, his tongue chasing yours as his fingers wrapped around the back of your thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hadn’t even realised you were inside his apartment already until you saw a black couch behind his back.

Alas, his plans all went down the drain when a dark grey fluffy ball mewled against his leg to get his attention. You laughed in the kiss, seeing how desperate that cutie was acting to get some attention.

Suguru’s eyes locked with the Nebelung cat and groaned. «Nen, you little troublemaker. It’s half past midnight and you’re still up. Don’t you see we have a lady tonight? I have to take good care of her.»

Nen apparently wasn’t having any of it tonight because she mewled again at the owner and walked towards the bowl.

Oh, her Majesty was hungry.

«Go», you chuckled as you untangled your legs from his distressed form «I’m not going anywhere. And if I recall, you promised me a drink earlier.»

He rolled his eyes, scolding Nen for interrupting even after he had crouched down to feed the beautiful long-haired cat.

As the not-so-tough artist fetched two wine glasses and placed them onto the table to pour red wine, you came to stand next to him with a toothy smile and grabby hands.

You were an instant boost of serotonin that kicked into his veins, and he couldn’t really wrap his head around the idea you could be both so hot and cute at the same time.

His thoughts exactly reflected yours, although you were quite sure he didn’t know how much his beauty, aura and personality impacted others. He was so, so gorgeous inside and outside, yet he still struggled to let his truest self emerge.

«You were planning on getting me drunk without eating anything first, didn’t you? But I read through your schemes, Geto Suguru.» a shiver ran down his spine when you said his name.

«I’m not that naive.»

«Ouch. What made you think so bad of me, petal?»

You giggled, the braid swinging against your spine and fingers on the black harness around his thigh. He hadn’t noticed it yet, your clueless and sexy tattoo artist.

Mine you repeated that single word to yourself like a mantra, jolts of confidence radiating through your entire system.

God, he really was a sight to see.

«I’m messing with you.» you took a sip of the thick liquid and leaned against the kitchen counter for support, «wow, this tastes amazing.»

«I’m sure you taste even better.»

For the first time in a while, butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Tilting your head up, you put down the glass behind you and locked eyes with him.

«You believe so?»

«Uhm-uhm.» his fingers were once again on you, but this time they were after the braid. When he finally undid and brought it forward, curls landed on your chest. A soft chuckle left his throat, fingertips playing with your curls as his eyes devoured yours.

Breath stuck in your throat, you watched as he finished the drink in his other hand and oh my God, wetness had pooled in your panties already.

And he did the bare minimum to turn you on.

You were whipped for this man and Geto could tell it as well by the way you bit your lower lip while staring at his plump ones.

«Shoko really set us up in the best way possible.»

«Well, as they say: the devil works hard, but she really works harde-

Ah.» you whimpered, bracing yourself on the counter with Suguru’s digits now tracing the wisteria on your arm with delicate touches. He then proceeded to go down, until his fingers tugged at the hem of your top… and that’s when you clicked your tongue.

«You’ve already seen me half-naked plenty of times. It’s about time I see you taking off your clothes first.»

With a snort he broke away, but stayed close enough for you to feel his thighs twitch against yours.

«Deal, but I haven’t seen all of your tattoos yet.»

«You will soon enough.» was your response before taking in how he impatiently got rid of the black sweater. It landed on the floor, close enough to land where Nen’s kennel was. However, the little girl was nowhere to be seen. You went to ask where she was when Geto motioned you to look behind your back.

And you saw her sleeping soundly on the couch.

«The queen is sleeping there. We might as well go to my bedroom, mmh?»

You nodded and for a moment you almost forgot about your partner’s semi-nudity. Or Gojo’s words.

Yeah, almost.

Because the sight of the monochromatic dragon adorning the entire left side of his body seared into your brain. You’ve always seen part of it before, but now it was displayed on his flawless skin for you to explore with your eyes, your fingers.

Your lips.

He walked past the counter and his bare back held other tattoos, such as the lotus flower behind the neck, or the complex design of a sleeve on his left arm. All while Satoru’s words boomed in your brain like thunder bolts just crossed the sky.

Oh man, you weren’t going to make it out alive tonight.

Feeling your eyes consuming him, Geto’s tongue licked yet again his lower lip, but you tore your eyes away from his bare chest out of sheer despair and left in a hurry. He caught up in no time, taking your hand and guiding you to the right room.

«I love that look on your face. You see my tattoos and get all flustered. It shows I got under your skin just as much as you got under mine.»

He didn’t want to let you catch a breath or see how nice or tidy the bedroom was, considering how eager he was. His prominent erection against your back and the way he subtly bucked his hips up to yours to edge you spoke volumes about what he wanted at the moment.

You, falling apart under him.

Somehow, you managed to stay on your own feet in spite of his fingers yanking your jeans past the hip bones and then down, right where you were already taking care of the shoes. It didn’t take long for him to help you discard them and, while you kicked the piece of fabric and the boots out of the way, your index and thumb unleashed his hair.

Silk strands grazing both your faces, you gave yourself no time to dwell on it: still with your back on him, you shoved one of your hands among his locks to pull at the roots and grinded on him.

Eye for an eye, angel.

He moaned in your ear, something that has never happened with any of the male partners you had before. They thought it was too “girly”.

Bullshit.

Boys who groaned in their lovers’ ears were fucking hot.

«Fuck. I’ve never said you could call the shots, though.»

«I-» he cut you off again, tilting your head up to let your lips meet again. This time the kiss was as rough as the man fondling your breast still embraced by the crop top. As if you shared one mind, Suguru grabbed it and almost tore both open.

Action that earned him another pull at his hair.

«Careful» he breathed in your mouth, «or I won’t be gentle.»

«I’ve never asked you to.»

“You’re his petal, are you? Then listen to me: there's more to this than meets the eye when Suguru is involved, ‘kay? Buuuut, you’re in for a very big surprise with him. You see…”

Before he could stop you, your knees hit the carpet with a thud. After spinning so that you were now facing the crotch of his black cargo pants, he shook his head.

«Is this your idea of ‘making up’, petal?»

«Complaining already? I thought all boys loved good head.» staring back at him, a pout already gracing your bruised lips, Geto sat at the edge of the bed. Then he watched as you crawled on the carpet on all fours, drinking in the view of your half-naked body.

«I'm not like any other man you've encountered.»

No, he really wasn't.

As you shrugged, he finally caught a glimpse of your other tattoos: leaving the rose aside, the outline of a black snake on your thigh captured his attention right away. It was beautiful, its design and realisation something only a skilled tattoo artist could pull off without ruining the final outcome. A woman had worked and executed the tattoo, there was no doubt about it. Generally speaking, women were more detail-centred than men were, and that was the case with the tattoo.

He wasn’t the type to judge girls for what they decided to get on their skin. How could he, when it was literally his job to please them in that way?

Many uncultured, hypocrite people -namely men hidden behind their fragile ego and toxic masculinity- would’ve considered your tattoos too “aggressive” or “the best way to turn off a dude”.

Someone had had the chance to put their hands on you before he did. Strangely to say or even think, jealousy swallowed him whole in the blink of an eye.

The boy was so engrossed in his task that he hadn’t felt your hands free him from the confines of his pants until your startled gasp reached him.

Gojo wasn’t lying.

Your fingers first brushed against his bare, tensed thighs and the long-haired tattoo artist sucked in another moan. Then you stared at his cock with such intensity Geto feared you had a change of heart. Still panting, he cupped your face with a hand and in doing so, his eyes wandered downward.

And saw where the head of the snake rested.

«Satoru told you, right? Of course he did» he didn’t sound angry or disappointed, just resigned, «he never misses the chance to say he’s seen my cock fir-»

«Ssh.» you stopped your partner’s reasoning with a kiss right on his happy trail, descending until you locked eyes with him and smirked.

And Gojo's words ricocheted in your mind.

“-he was the first person who trusted me enough to put his hands on. But you'll see for yourself how fitting and nice a dick piercing looks on him.”

What a pretty, pretty boy.

«He told me. But let me get you onto something real quick.» your index came across the tattoo of what you believed was a customised carnation. It was standing proud on his rib cage, some space apart from the huge tail of the dragon on the arm.

If he was taking his sweet time admiring your tattoos, nothing prevented you from doing the same.

«I don’t care. I like pretty jewellery on attractive men and you, angel, are exactly that.

And I fuck them really good.»

He was trying his best not to drag you onto the bed and show you how good he was going to fuck you after what you just said, but he preferred to let his fingers wander, reaching down to caress the head of the snake marked on your hip.

Its forked tongue ideally licked the hip bone, and it was the exact same thing you were doing on his inner thigh.

Suguru was far from being intimidated. He’d been the first one among his friends to fully embrace who he really was, starting from his physical appearance and preferences.

He’d come to terms with both his flaws and qualities a long time ago.

What mattered to him the most, after all those years spent trying to be someone the society wanted him to be, was authenticity. And you were giving him plenty of it tonight.

Just being there with him, physically and mentally naked, was enough for the artist to make him go.

«Lick it, petal.»

Your tongue was now roaming over the metallic bud whilst a ragged breath from his part caressed the back of your head. His muscles spasmed under the slightest touch, signalling you he was at his limit already.

Nonetheless, the moment you actually took him into your mouth, moaning because of the salty precum coating your mouth and hand covering the base of his cock, he couldn’t do anything else but sternly whip at your hair.

And a loud whimper left your lips.

«So I’m not the only one here with a thing for hair pulling, uh?» his cocky smile was the last thing you saw before he beckoned you closer to him.

You arched your back a bit so that your elbows rested on both thighs, pushing them aside to give you more space.

Expert fingers were yet again yanking at the roots when your lips embraced more of his girth and you almost gagged. It was no easy task, since the man was so aroused and girthy and- God, he sounded so breathless and whiny as he thrusted into your mouth.

«Just like that. Take more of me into that pretty mouth of yours» faux innocence dripped from every single syllable, «I can’t even imagine what being inside you feels like. Yet.»

That last sentence would’ve elicited a profuse string of whimpers, but you were too concentrated on making him moan again. So you simply hummed and slid your mouth further down on his cock, causing the boy to grip at the sheets and then fall on his elbows.

You patiently licked and kissed every inch of skin you could reach, stealing glances at him from time to time. Then eagerness got the best of you.

You took all of him in your mouth again in one, smooth move.

«A-ah.» Suguru’s voice cracked seeing your nails digging into his inner thighs, but what almost made him go insane was when you flattened your tongue against the prominent vein of his cock, dragging it along its entire length until you wrapped around his frenulum. And you rubbed your tongue on it, the cold and hard texture of the piercing sinking into the tender flesh of your wet muscle as Geto moaned again.

«Fuck.»

He was going to thank Satoru someday, of course.

However, he had no intention to come in your mouth when he hadn’t tasted you yet.

Before you could finish what you started, the long-haired boy tugged at your hair hard enough to make you sigh. Tumbling off of him, slick glistening on your lips, you watched as he plopped down on his back. He still was painfully hard, but Geto’s mind was drifting towards other directions.

«Come here», he motioned you to straddle him and when you did, his pads on your bottom lip gathered the mixed fluids on it. «We’ll continue this another time. Now, move forward.» «Did I hurt you?» «Not at all.»

Confused, you did as he said, and as soon as you felt him push you upward for your head to hit the headboard, a sudden yet pleasurable feeling there shook you to the core. You hadn’t realised it ‘till now, but you still had your panties on.

Well, what was left of it.

Saying that you were so wet that the fabric almost completely disappeared would’ve been a huge euphemism.

Suguru rose to his feet and, without you noticing, he stepped back and brought a hand to his mouth to hide his satisfied smile.

You were there, in his bed. Curls covered half of your back, including the section he so accurately marked for hours.

Before today, he'd never thought you’d accept going on a date with him in the first place, let alone ending up at his place.

In his bed.

But the moment you linked eyes with him almost two months before in his studio, Geto just knew he had to be with you.

One way or another.

Moans airily passing through your lips, you clenched around nothing when his digits brushed against your drenched sex. He was playing with you, just like a lover would’ve done on a passionate night with their significant other.

«G-Geto.»

His movements came to a halt altogether, and you mentally slapped yourself for speaking. You were really great at ruining the atmosphere.

«Yes, petal?»

«Did I do something wrong? I mean, I’m pretty sure I messed up something since I’m a bit rusty, so-»

The tattoo artist cut short what he was sure would’ve been a very long, unnecessary apology by placing his lips on your earshell. You leaned closer to have a better view of his body towering over you, but nothing could prepare you for what happened next.

Almost simultaneously, his hand pushed down your panties and whispered:

«Nothing of the sort. You’re too good at giving head, I almost came the second I felt your tongue dragging along my piercing» shivers of both embarrassment and pride harpooned you as he continued. «But I’m too impatient for that. All I want right now is to eat you out from behind like the starved man I am.

I need you on my tongue.»

That being said, he left hungry kisses on his way back to where you needed him the most.

Making sure you could reach the headboard anytime, you waited for your partner to finally get his way with you. And he did shortly after, kissing and then lapping up the wetness gathered between your thighs with his tongue.

A tongue that soon breached past your entrance in no time.

You mewled, lurching forward to get some kind of break from that intimate kiss.

Not on his watch, though.

One of his arms gripped your waist and pushed backward, right where he demanded you to be. It only took him a moment to convince you to spread your legs wider on the bed, so that he could better lick up into you.

«Just like I thought: you taste amazing.» he stated under his breath.

The implicit compliment had your cheeks burning, pretty lame in such a situation.

If he had been really close to cum when you touched him, you were literally shreds of seconds away from losing your mind.

Not only was he sucking on your clit like his life depended on it, but he used two digits to part your folds and then, just then, dug them so deep goosebumps spread all over your arched spine.

He was hitting each sweet spot of yours with disarming carelessness, further proven by the moment he hooked fingers into you: that way, it was impossible to snap your legs close.

Not that you wanted to push your luck.

«Please» you fell onto your elbows and hid your face in the pillow, «I-I can’t take it.»

Words fell on deaf ears because he wasn’t done with you. Nose bumping against your sensitive bundle of nerves, he scissored his fingers apart.

And all of a sudden, neither his fingers nor mouth were close to you.

The desperate cry for the abrupt lack of touch building up within you was promptly interrupted by Geto’s touch on your back. He felt you were close, so he decided to stop and eventually keep his promise to rail you.

«You can. That’s why you’re here.» kisses on your spinal cord. «Tonight.» maddening fingers on your breast. «With me.»

For God’s sake, girl, you better grow a pair.

Talk back.

There was so much you wished to tell him. Alas, your mind was so clouded by pleasure that you just bucked into his touch for more, completely unaware of the fact Suguru was fascinated by the way you appeared.

Sweat grazing both of you, foreheads sticky with it, he nibbled on the skin near the jaw to get your attention. You looked back at the black-haired man, expecting him to lift you up or shift position.

Nothing. Was he waiting for you to say something?

«Did the cat get your tongue?»

Somehow your voice came back alongside a fair share of bratness. «Nah, it’s still here. See?» you flicked it out to prove it. «Want me to say anything in particular, angel?»

The tattoo artist cackled in your ear. Pet names could work both ways, apparently.

«You tell me.» «What about a new necklace? Can you give it to me?»

For the first time in a while, Geto Suguru furrowed his eyebrows in utter confusion.

How the fuck was he supposed to buy a necklace right before going down on you?

The dark-haired boy’s eyes met yours, eyes blown dark with lust and a never ending hunger that only a few had had the gut to face.

Before he could understand what was going on, you lifted yourself up to let your soon-to-be abused hole caress his tip a few times, eliciting soft moans from the two of you.

The coldness of the jewellery had you freezing at first, but then its gradual warmth enhanced the crazy libido agitating itself within you.

Breathing each other in, you moved down until his shaft broke past your entrance. And realisation hit him as he was halfway through your pussy, pants falling past your lips. Without altering the pace set by you, the artist wrapped his fingers around your neck and moaned yet again in your ear.

«A ‘necklace’ it is. I got myself a kinky girl, didn’t I?

I’m flattered.»

You sighed in response. The feeling of his pulse strumming away at your insides was too overwhelming, almost addicting. You couldn’t blurt out any sort of coherent answer.

He took the lead soon after your body went in override against his, bottoming out and ramming himself back inside in a matter of seconds. He slammed down his mouth on your own to suffocate your shared moans when the piercing plonged at the apex of your walls.

«I’ll only wear it when you’re around.»

«As you should» his teeth latched into your throat, «you’re doing so well, petal.

It almost feels like you were made to take my cock only.»

Fingers you loved having on you pressed the zone around your windpipe, and that caused you to arch off while Suguru’s thrusts gained strength.

Pleasure occluded your senses just as the boy tugged back at your head to steal a kiss, his eyes almost rolling in the back of his head when your digits found harbour in his hair.

«It feels s-so good, S-Su-», you unladyously groaned «Sugu’.»

The sound of skin slapping against skin faded to the background of your mind, Geto’s fingers adding more pressure on your throat’s sides. Nonetheless, you felt him twitching inside you.

Was he into pet names that much?

«Say it again.» no amusement this time, just pure excitement filling his raspy voice. You went to speak again when breath got knocked out of your lungs.

He had flipped you over so that now you were facing a very excited Geto, his hand still on your neck and dick buried deep in you.

Okay, he definitely was.

You shrouded your eyes as he laid you down on the bed, but they were again on him when his thumb pinched the skin right where the tip of his cock was driving through into your core and up to the cervix. It almost hurt how full you felt at that moment.

«Don’t stop, Sugu’.» you pleaded. He shook his head, his other hand on your hip.

Your own enclosed his face to bring it closer to yours, initiating a kiss that convinced the man to continue what he was doing.

Alluring whimpers reached your ears, just what you needed to give in to the sensation of him filling you up to the brim.

Both you and him were so close to your releases. He especially was, his movements sloppy and hips stuttering with every thrust you desperately took in stride.

«Look at me.»

You hadn’t even noticed your eyes had wandered off from Suguru's’s face until he pointed it out. He was now pistoning into you slower, but he still was as perceptive and caring as he’d been at the start.

«Yes, keep your eyes on me. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous» he pecked your nose as his voice lowered. «Can I come inside you?»

You went to compliment him back when he hit another spot of yours, causing you to scream in your hand and nod at his question. «Oh, my God. R-right there.»

After that he resumed hitting that spot until you tensed under him, your back arched off the mattress to meet his heavy chest.

You pushed one another over the edge into a kaleidoscope of fragmented lights, riding through your orgasms until the aftershocks rolled over you both.

Geto kissed you for a very long time for so long after you were done, lazily rocking his hips against yours to fuck both your releases back into your dripping hole. Actually, you weren’t even sure how much time had passed since he took you in his arms to get to the bathroom and back on the bed.

A core memory of yours, however, was him delicately wiping the sweat off your body, kissing your forehead before taking a quick shower to come back to you.

He really had fucked you stupid.

«A penny for your thoughts.»

His hand covered yours under the clean sheets you two had put on. The smell of sandal lulled you as your body went limp against his, indulging in his touch for a bit before replying.

«Shouldn’t it be ‘a tattoo for your thoughts’? I find it more fitting.»

«Just because you slept with a tattoo artist doesn’t imply you get free tattoos from now on, you little vixen.»

He narrowed his eyes and the view of him getting mad over something you made up on the spot had you laughing against his chest.

He was jealous, and for now that was more than enough to make you feel desired.

You hadn’t felt that way for so long.

«Kinky girl.» «Shut up.» He traced the form of your other tattoo in the inner part of the left arm. «Make me.»

And you shut him up for the rest of the night, exploring every inch of his skin until brushes of light orange and pastel yellow washed away the purple and deep blue nuances of the night.

«You’re lucky tomorr- I mean today, it’s my free day. Otherwise I didn’t know how to bring you there.»

Knowing where he was coming from, but unable to stop it, you sighed. You should’ve been prepared for the inevitable.

«Where?»

«To buy you a necklace, petal.» he leaned closer to kiss your pout away

«This lovely neck of yours needs a choker that does its job when I’m not around.»

«You’ll never let me go away with this, will you?»

Strands of silk brushed against your face as Suguru caressed your tattoo.

«Never. But I’ve marked you in other ways, don’t you think? Many ways, actually. By the way, you have some lovely tattoos.

Would you like to talk about them some day?»

«Absolutely. Give me some hours to recharge my batteries and I’ll be yours. Oh, and that harness you wore yesterday? I want two of them.»

«Fine. But if you’d like to wear it for lunch, for instance, you better ingrain in your brain that’ll be the only thing you'll be wearing for the rest of the day.»

Geto left a kiss at the corner of your lips as you processed what he just explicitly proposed.

And you surprised yourself even more when you got up and your hand clamped on the bone of contention five minutes after. God only knew how you managed to detect it among all those clothes scattered all over the floor.

«What if I wear it now? Would that intrigue you?»

«I’m very much intrigued by you already, my petal» Suguru watched you from across the room and tilted his head to the side, «but I might be damned if I try to stop you from doing such a thing.»

My petal you kept repeating those two words in your head, savouring them on your tongue.

Nope, never getting tired of how it sounded.

Once you were done with the leathery accessory, you caressed the material with a finger and walked towards your partner.

His gaze pierced through the window of your soul even after your legs had settled on the outside of his thighs. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding in as his lips closed around your hard nipple, gush of lust dripping down your legs all over again.

That time, though, he wasn’t the least interested in taking charge.

«Suddenly I’m not sleepy anymore.» he affirmed, amused yet turned on by the sight of you wearing nothing but one of his harnesses.

Henceforth, he’d let you wear it anytime you wanted if that made you happy.

«Good.» your whispers on his neck gave him goosebumps. «’Cause I want to ride your dick ‘till we both have enough. Told you I fuck attractive men real good.»

The statement stirred delight within the tattoo artist, his long hair untamed when his lips clashed against yours.

Amusement wasn’t the only thing that sprang out after that, though.

«Then do it, petal. I’m waiting.»

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #voice of cassandra

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cleoluvrr · 7 months

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high school sweethearts (rafe cameron x reader) II

these are the requirements, if you think you can be my one true love

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, dub!con, choking, domestic violence, substance abuse & addiction, controlling behavior, coercion, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, attempted suicide ,kook!reader

masterlist

series masterlist

“i’m sorry…” you whispered in a broken voice. tears streamed down your face uncontrollably as you avoided your boyfriend’s piercing gaze.

he ignores you, jaw clenching as he buckles you into the seat of his truck. you could feel your heart palpitate when he slams the door shut and walks around the front to enter the driver’s side. the impending doom of what you were to face later was making you sick to your stomach.

the house in the background fades away as rafe pulls off; kiara and sierra–your younger sister–left standing in the driveway dumbfounded.

your parents instructed you to escort your sister to kiara’s house earlier that day. not that she wasn’t old enough to go alone, but she was to be under strict supervision after running off with her friends a couple of weeks ago. they didn’t even want to let her go, but you promised that you would make sure she stayed out of trouble like the good older sibling you are.

what you didn’t know before you agreed to this was that you’d end up at john b’s, or that you’d be there for hours. you left during the daylight, and by the time you noticed how much time had passed it was already too late.

the service in the cut was shotty; you could barely receive a call or a text, let alone make one. so when you finally got back to your side of the island, you were shocked to find dozens of missed calls and texts from rafe. you told him that you were going to be at kie’s house for a while to watch your sister, and that you’d be unavailable.

what you also didn’t know was that he would come by to make sure you were actually there.

when you finally arrived back at her residence, her parents were there on the porch making conversation with a pleasant looking rafe. they smiled at you politely and let you know that they’d take your sister home so that you and rafe wouldn’t be late to your dinner reservation.

you didn’t have a dinner reservation.

your fate was sealed the moment you were forced to get in the car with rafe alone. you held your tears in until kiara’s parents returned inside, but they fought their way out the moment the man crossed the yard to meet you at the end of the driveway. kiera tried to pull you away from him, but you waved her off to keep her out of his path. it was best that they didn’t get involved in whatever you had coming.

“do you know how many times i called you?” rafe broke the silence between you. his voice was very calm, which only instilled fear deeper within you. you didn’t want to pull out your phone to check, but you were worried about what he’d do if you got the answer wrong.

your head shook side to side as a response.

“i called you twenty–three times, y/n. twenty-three fucking times that you didn’t pick up the phone.” he received a gulp from you, the excessive number causing your eyes to widen just the smallest amount. “do you know how worried i was? don’t you know to answer the phone when i call you?”

“i didn’t have any service…”

his blue eyes sliced you in half at the sound of the defensive reply. your own eyes lowered submissively as you cowered closer to the car door.

“maybe you would’ve had service if you weren’t in the cut.” he snapped. “you don’t have any business being over there.”

you looked over at him in confusion. how did he know you were in the cut?

it wasn’t like you let him know you were going to hang out over there–you weren’t that stupid. nobody knew you were there except for three of you and john b, and none of them would ever tell rafe where you were. you had terrible service so you know he couldn’t track you; so how did he find out?

“what are you talking about?” you didn’t deny it, there was no reason to, but you were genuinely curious.

“don’t play fucking dumb with me, y/n.” rafe snarled at you from the driver’s seat, the harsh tone causing you to flinch. “you think i don’t have people keeping eyes on you?”

“you have people watching me?” the confession was not surprising to you, but it was n less off-putting to hear him fully admit to it. “are you fucking–”

insane? that's the question you were going to ask.

you cut yourself off before it could tumble out of your mouth. rafe hated it when you called him crazy, and you were already in enough trouble. rafe’s eyes pulled away from the dark road to deliver an accusatory glare in your direction. the silent exchange was enough to have you sewing your lips shut with the imaginary needle you kept in your back pocket for moments like this.

“am i fucking what?”

“you don’t…why do you have people watching me, rafe?” you avoided the questions; it’s not like he would like the answer anyway. “i’m an adult! i don’t need you following me around town like i don’t know what i’m doing!”

one of his hands lifts off the wheel before slamming back down, the contact creating a sound that fills the air of the car. his knuckles were white from the steely grip he had on, so tight that you worried his fingers would leave indents in the expensive material.

“i wouldn’t have to if you just–just stop doing stupid shit, y/n!” his voice rose even louder than yours as he scolded you. “i tell you to stay away from there because it’s not safe, and you know that. your sister may think she’s a pogue, but you aren’t–you have no reason to be out there this late.”

“i told you i had to watch sierra! i didn’t know we were gonna be over there that long.”

“you shouldn’t be over there at all! that’s what i’m trying to fucking tell you!” the car veered to the right sharply before straightening back out. rafe took a deep breath to reign himself in from the frustration that had long begun to boil over into anger. “if i have to tell you again…”

you tried to keep your eyes on the road purposely averting your eyes from the steely blue of your boyfriends.

the car slowly pulled over to the left side of the road again, this time with intention as it came t a full stop. your head was jerked to the side when a strong set of fingers dug into the flesh of your warm cheeks. rafe’s rough hands forced you to give him your full attention, every one of your senses overwhelmed by his bone-chilling presence.

“don’t make me have to tell you again.” the authority and finality in his voice left no room for arguments. “do you understand me?”

with his fingertips pressing into the hardness of your teeth, you nodded the best you could. your wide eyes stared into his hardened ones; like a prey trembling out of fear of being trapped in the jowls of a stalking predator.

“yes…” the words sound strange coming out of your squished mouth, but he understood.

“i hope so.” his tongue pokes out of the side of his cheek.

before releasing your jaw, a kiss was placed upon your lips by the man keeping you in place. it was over faster than you could fully process what was happening, the skin tingling as rafe pulled away. his hand traveled up your face to the top of your head to stroke your hair affectionately before retreating to its position on the steering wheel.

you swallowed thickly as he steered the car back onto the dark, empty road.

it was nearly impossible to put up a fight with rafe about anything that actually mattered, you told him not to put tracker on your phone–he did it anyway. you told him that he couldn’t make you quit your job at the mall–you put in your two weeks notice a week after that. you refused to wear the sterling silver necklace he bought you, the one with his name engraved on it. it made you feel like a pet, like you were wearing a collar to show everyone who you belonged to.

the jewelry weighs a thousand pounds as it rests between your collarbones. you hadn’t taken it off since rafe put it there the day he threatened your life.

he simply scared you too much to go against him. it's easy to just call them intimidation tactics, or to tell yourself that he’s just bluffing. believing that was much harder, however. rafe wouldn’t let you defy him without consequences, and you knew that for a fact.

unconsciously, your own fingers raised to run along the two week-old fading bruises rafe left around your neck. the ring was distantly hand-shaped and covered by the thinnest layer of makeup you could use without it being obvious that there was any in the first place. it was a reminder of the control rafe had over the smallest parts of you–how there wasn’t a single thing that he wasn’t able to hold over your head.

including the air you breathe.

it made you feel sick. not the power he had over you, but the fact that you still loved him. you wanted to tell yourself that it was stockholm syndrome; that there’s no way you truly loved him, you’ve just been together so long that your brain has tricked you into believing that. there had to be a logical reason behind you staying with him for so long before you broke things off. something in your brain’s chemistry had to have been altered to not immediately call the police after he broke into your home and plainly told you he’d kill you, when he pressed down on your trachea with intentions of stalling your access to air.

you could search for the rest of your life to find the logic behind staying captive in the relationship you had, leaving nothing from the deepest points of the ocean to the unexplored darkness of space untouched–and still find nothing.

there was no denying the butterflies you felt when he looked at you, or the way your heart fluttered when he showed you the bright whites of his teeth in a show-stopping smile. you couldn’t explain away the pain you felt when he showed up at your window in the night time, crying and covered in the marks left behind by his father. when he kissed you, nothing else in the world mattered besides the feeling of his lips on yours. his touch made you feel weightless and gave you tingles that traveled bone-deep.

the same hands that brought you pain have brought you the most genuine feelings of happiness that you couldn’t put into words. the man that has been the reason behind your darkest days has also been the cause of your brightest ones–nothing about that was logical.

you were in love with him, and that was the gut-wrenching reality of it all.

#dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x kook!reader #obx2 #obx1 #obx3 #obx fanfiction #drew starkey #cleoluvrr fics #rafe cameron smut

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edgeray · 1 month

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One Hell of a Butler Pt.5

Reverence (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Should I be working on this? No. But I just thought of this and I *needed* to write this. I did get a little lazy at the end but hopefully it's okay? Wanted to spoil you guys a little with a bit of spice ✨. Also. @megistusdiary. I lied. :) (you do get to fuck her now). Me while writing this: Do I want to be with Reader or be her. Oh, wait. 🤭 Series Masterlist Content Warning: Very suggestive. Not smut though.

To be quite frank, you were uncertain what would come with having a demon as your butler; in fact, you weren't even sure if this contract would be viable or if the demon would accept it: you half-expected for Arlecchino to scoff and turn the other way, maybe even grant you death for such an insolent offer. A demon serving underneath the human? How absurd. Why would any demon go to such extent for something so obviously below the species of demons? For their prey, for something they would eat, nonetheless? Though, perhaps you summoned no ordinary demon, or perhaps you were no ordinary human. Whose to say you weren’t an exception? Though, you didn’t want to flatter yourself. Pretension came with consequences of course.

Still, nothing could have prepared you for what Arlecchino would be like.

You shouldn’t be surprised by her… quirks, to say, as you assume all demons are sentient enough to have their own distinct personalities and whatnot. You were certain that Arlecchino’s behavior didn’t quite match that of a demon. Or perhaps, she didn’t match your expectations of a demon. Regardless, it was hard to imagine your butler as a demon.

Demons were meant to be cruel. Sharps claws that destroyed everything in its wake, fangs that ensnarled anything it could get a hold of, a tongue so vile that it spits venom with each utterance, piercing red irises fitting for a being of hell, and powers and abilities unfathomable to humans. Demons are unhuman, even, unworldly to you, or they should be. So why does she act with a familiar…intimacy? Were all demons like this? Well, they are beings of sin… lust is not completely out of the realm of possibilities, is it? Perhaps it came with being a demon.

Though, you can’t quite imagine a demon behaving like she has. In ways that go beyond amorous suggestions, with tenderness that can’t be associated with sensuality. The damn, sly creature is always looking for an opportunity to touch you, though, at least shew warrants some restraint and tact when doing so. Helping you dress even when you never call for her, her eyes always wander your body–always looking, but never touching (excessively, that is). She’s ever so sickeningly sweet with her words, often spilling flatteries from her lips that near your head. Doing things outside of your orders, though always making sure they aren’t detrimental to you. Whether they be subtle, courteous acts, ones that you are perfectly capable of doing yourself (like holding a door or helping you slip in your shoes); or more evident gestures. You recall the numerous times she has wordlessly slid a cup of the coffee in the dead of night as you hunch over a desk. The coffee is always prepared in the way you’ve preferred the most: with the meticulous process you typically do, which she could have only learned through observation.

You’d think she was treating you like glass, like a fragile little human that may break from anything just because she is much more invulnerable than any human, However, you discover that she rarely thinks of you as such. Sure, she could easily kill anyone that crosses you with less than a snap of a finger, but she’s not above doing nothing and just watching you eliminate those damned vangrats yourself. (She says it was because she adores the cold fury on your expression.)

Even at your most vulnerable, underneath your covers surrounded nothing but remnants of the past and your persistent fears, does she hold you, but not in a coddling manner. Only just enough to remind you of the present reality, lacking the consolation someone more intimate would offer. She does not wrap her arms around your form even after your request to stay, and for that, you’re grateful. You must proctor the line between butler and master, but even you can feel your resolute trembling the slightest amount, making way for leniency of her otherwise impudent actions.

Her icy touch burns across your skin, igniting a fire you thought had long died. You almost hate it, if you didn’t long for it so much. Perhaps it’s the demon’s effect on you, breaking you down and slowly willing you underneath her. Well, you refuse to allow that to happen, denying the possibility you would submit to anyone–anything–before you achieved your goal.

You’d demonstrate to her who was in control; despite her undeniable superiority in ability, you were the one using her, not the other way around, and she’d come to remember it.

You make good of that promise today, a day like any other.

When you were stirred awake this morning, sunlight streaming from your bedroom window as she gently combs her dexterous fingers through the strands of your hair. Your eyelids fluttered before your vision was greeted with the angelic image of her, her pale skin and snow white hair framed in such a delicate manner by the golden rays of sun, making the soft upturn of her lips seem to radiate. Always, in your drowsy and yet-conscious mind, do you think that you would like to be met with this sight every time you rise.

“Good morning, my Lady,” she says, just like the morning before, and the morning before that. She brushes the stray hair strand away from your face and you let her. On the nightstand is expectedly a tray of food, breakfast already prepared for you by her.

“What is it?” You inquire, just like every morning, only because there’s the fascinating spark of brilliance in those black abysses.

You rarely pay attention to her words. You hardly care about the origins of whatever gourmet food she’s made (once you inquired her about how she learned to cook, her reply is only that she learned with past ‘clients’), the movement of her red lips far more delectable to you in those moments.

She reminds you that you have a meeting with one of your clients in the afternoon as you eat, making you internally sigh. People.

She helps you into appropriate clothing for occasion, and of course, she teases you. Nails scraping lightly against your bare hips, fingers hooked around waist, fleeting touches on your sides as she prepares you (sometimes you wonder if she does it for her eyes or for the event). Your client proposes discussing business in a private room of some high-end restaurant–one of those that served you a nine-course meal (though you were sure Arlecchino could create something far more appetizing, you had no good reason to deny the offer).

Arlecchino sits besides you as the two of you engage, dismissing her presence as just a ‘bodyguard’ in front of your client. The two of you exchange information, discuss with the faked pleasantries ‘dignified criminals’ had to uphold, and soon enough, your meeting soon comes to a close. The last dessert has yet to come, and the conversation has shifted from something of business to what would be the criminal underground version of gossiping. As you do, you feel something snake up your thigh, and it is the familiar iciness that tells you it’s your butler’s hand. You can’t break your attention away, though the tightening grip around your glass is enough to scold Arlecchino.

The ever infuriating butler that she is ignores the visible signs of frustration, fingers towards your inner thigh which makes you clench your wine cup even more. A swirling heat coils in your stomach and your heartbeat spikes. Your skin suddenly feels flushed, warmth pooling inside underneath your skin that only grows with every stroke over your clothed leg. At one point, your breath hitches when she digs her nails in, not forceful enough to break skin but it’s a prickly sensation.

You grind your teeth under a placid face. You’ve long grew tired of her misbehavior.

It’s when you decide that you can no longer be so lenient with her. After you and Arlecchino return from the meeting, you’ve excused yourself to your room and ordered her to not disturb you for as long as you remain there. You use that time to relieve yourself from the swelter that overwhelms your thoughts, which are only filled with visions of red-crossed pupils and sharp, frigid touches. By the end of it, you’re left more irritated than satiated.

It’s before evening when you call her to your office. You sit perched on top of your desk, one leg crossed over the other as you lean back languidly over the wooden surface, waiting for her.

“Arlecchino when you agreed to the contract what was it that you agreed to?” You ask her suddenly, before any greeting or command. The abrupt inquiry seems to have caught her off guard, but she answers without deliberation.

“I agreed to serve you and only you as a butler, faithfully and loyally without any objection or hesitation.”

You narrow your eyes, the impatience tethering with fury in your voice. “And what does being my butler entail?”

“Fulfilling your every wish and need at any expense, including myself.”

You press your lips into a tight line, pleased with her response, but it’s not enough. “Exactly. Kneel.”

You love the look of her eyes as they widen in shock, her mouth parted slightly. It’s a command you’ve never given before, and it briefs her on nothing of your intentions. “My Lady?” She inquires with a bit of hesitance, daring to feign daftness, but from the intense flaring of her red irises, you know quite well that she’s heard you.

You click your tongue irritatedly. “Did you not hear me? I said kneel before me.”

Arlecchino kneels, her knees digging into the carpeted floor as her lower legs lay flat though you can tell from the slow manner it’s uneasy to her. Good. Standing up from your sitting position, you stroll towards her before stopping only just a few inches away from her. You lean down, grasping her chin in your hand, forcing her to look up at you. This action is almost familiar to you–you wonder if she remembers how akin it is to her touches before. Your eyes bore into black pits, which stare intently, but you can practically feel that underneath your fingertips, behind the composed expression, is something boiling under her skin, like a hot, seething flame. The glare in her eyes are cutting, and you’d be frightened if you weren’t well aware of you and her's positions.

Here, you think she looks like a demon. There is nothing gracious about her now, none of that muddling affection that lies underneath her actions and words. She stares at you with something you wouldn’t describe as indignation, but nonetheless, you can tell she covets defiance against your order. In this moment, you can’t help but admire how pretty she looks, looking up at you like a reverent god. You’re grateful she doesn’t squirm–if she did, the splitting grin you’re trying to hide would spread across your face, tearing apart the commanding aura you’re trying to maintain. You take pride in this position, almost giddy from it, but you know better than to tease a gnashing dog.

“I grow tired of your shameless advances. Do you take me for a fool just because I am a human? I may be dangling my soul for you, but do not dare look down at me,” you remark with a cutting tone, contrasting your sharp words with the gentle caressing of her chin with your thumb, before pulling your hand away.

Your other hand finds its way in her white locks, nails digging into the demon’s scalp as you grip a handful of the hair tightly. You let go of her chin, and rely on the tug of her hair to keep her head tilted up on. Your now free hand moves to your pants, undoing the button as you observe the thick swallow she forces down and the small twitching of her form. Her own nails dig into the carpet underneath her. But, what is most visible to you is the soft flushing of her cheeks.

“When you contracted with me, you submitted to me. Isn’t it a new low, even among demons, Arlecchino? Submitting to a human. Even then, however, this was always what you wanted, wasn’t it? The provoking touches, the whispered words, the little tricks. I’ve seen them all. You serve under me, so satiate my need, Arlecchino.”

Tugging her strands lightly to guide her head in between your legs. You look down on her, the wicked grin and gleeful glint in your eyes no longer discreet. “Take it, like the sinful creature that you are.”

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fic #genshin impact x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin impact arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin fics #edgeray.blog #edgeray.writes #arlecchino smut

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tinietaehyun · 3 months

Text

Forsaken [XII]

[Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader] [Series] [Chapter Twelve]

Pairing: Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader

Genres: Romance, royal!au, fantasy, enemies to lovers, fluff, action, thriller.

Contains: Profanity, description of injury, mentions of blood, suggestive themes, dialogue-heavy.

Links: Forsaken Masterlist || Masterlist

Summary: Having teleported successfully out of Prince Beomgyu’s palace, you were left with Taehyun bleeding out. You had to save him at all costs! Thankfully for you, you haphazardly manage to bandage his wound and can only hope he will wake up soon!

Though when he does, you find your time with him going quite a bit different than you expected. Not that you would ever complain of course. Not when it felt so right to have his lips against yours.

Your gaze pierces Taehyun’s unconscious figure who you have managed to sit up against the wall. With nimble fingers, you unbutton his shirt as you analyse the extent of his injuries. Fortunately, you managed to find the bandage wrap, disinfectant and some other useful items.

With widened eyes, you spot the medium size slice into the side of his torso just under the ribs. His smooth expanse of skin now marred with a soon to be scar, not that it mattered, his physique spoke for itself.

Blood had soaked into his shirt and cloak; it was a clean slice clearly done with a blade; most likely Beomgyu’s doing. A gruesome mixture of fresh blood dribbles down his side dripping onto his trousers and the floor with flakes of dried blood now forming around the wound. You wince feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of the wound.

You weren’t an expert healer, but you had quite the many falls as a child and watched how he would bandage up your wounds or the wounds of Fortuna’s soldiers; particularly Kai’s. Biting your lip in hesitation, you crouch down beside him. You’d try your best. You had to.

With a wet towel you clean the surrounding blood. You clearly see the clear laceration making you wince at the thought of receiving such a wound. With the disinfectant, you begin sanitising the wound, to which you were extremely thankful he was unconscious, you knew it would hurt terribly. You continue to use pressure to stop anymore excess bleeding.

Haphazardly, you lean over and wrap the bandages around his torso. You weren’t sure if the way you were doing it was correct, but you didn’t care. All that mattered to you currently was Taehyun’s well-being. You wanted him alive.

With a fatigued sigh, you finish up your pitiful bandaging attempt as you sit back resting on your hands peering at your handiwork. You rejoice at the colour rushing back to his cheeks; his paleness seeming to dissipate as the minutes pass. Relief floods your system, noticing his breathing was more stable.

You hope he will wake up soon. A frown graces your face; he risked his life for you. He made you go first. What if he didn’t make it in time? Goodness, you couldn’t even imagine the possibility. You scan his unconscious body as your eyes glaze over, “Taehyun,” you mutter shakily.

“Please wake up soon,” you whimper. You hoped that you did something to help. Taehyun had done so much for you, he comforted you. He himself had been wronged, yet he helped you, a royal. You wanted to return the favour. Give him back his rightful position as the true Royal Sorcerer of Fortuna. To recall his exile. To let him be by your side.

Your gaze drifts to the string with which your ring hangs. Your heart flutters; he truly kept it safe. You found this fact ever so endearing. A shaky chuckle escapes your lips as you wipe away the tears. Oh, Kang Taehyun…

To think that bratty, uptight sorcerer you met would be the one to risk his life for you. The person who you had grown to love being around, to bicker and tease with, with whom you felt like you could truly be yourself. He didn’t treat you like a noble, no, he treated you like a normal individual. Albeit, it first irritated you, now you cherished it deeply. You yearned for it even.

Standing up, you yawn loudly. Coincidentally, your stomach grumbles. You take in your surroundings as unease settles in. It was rather dark as the sunset was near its end. You scramble to light up the candles outside the door and within the rooms.

With the flickering candlelight, you felt much better. Your mind flickers back to Taehyun’s tidbit about Bloodmoths; a reminiscent smile lingers on your lips. You were hungry, and you definitely needed something to energise Taehyun whenever he woke up.

Deep in thought, you finally remember the first soup Taehyun made. It was the easiest meal he had made and you remembered making it so visibly since you grumbled and whined about the chopping, stirring and boiling. The soup would do then! This was the least you could do.

You remembered that Taehyun kept extra vegetables in some glazed crocks soaked in vinegar and wrapped in some leather to keep them from spoiling. With a grimace, you begin making the soup. You were sure it would taste rather grim due to using the preserved vegetables instead of fresh ones but also the fact you have barely cooked throughout your life. You just hope what you were making would at least be edible.

As the soup simmers, you sprinkle some pepper in. A grunt resounds out as you peer over seeing Taehyun’s head twisting and turning as he writhes waking up. A low hiss leaves his lips as he realises he was still injured.

“Taehyun!” You call out as you rush over and crouch right beside him. He squints briefly, his eyes adjusting to the environment before meeting your gaze. He croaks out, “Mm, we made it.”

Your eyes begin to water, “We did. All because of you, Taehyun! Goodness, I’m so thankful you’re alive!” He scoffs weakly, “As if that pitiful wound would kill me,” he coughs.

Glaring, you respond, “Oh shut it, sorcerer. You scared the living soul out of me! Don’t be cocky, you may have sorcery, but a wound is a wound! Especially if you can’t heal yourself afterwards!”

Taehyun groans, raising his hand frailly dismissing your whining, “Yes, yes, princess, I get it. I overexerted myself, used too much mana, and put myself at risk.” You huff, “Indeed. But…” you resume with a pout, “But it was necessary, I was just…”

“Scared?” He murmurs with an amused twinkle in his eyes. You nod, “Mhm.” Taehyun’s lips form a lazy smirk, “Poor sweetheart, worried about little old me? Who would have thought, hm?” You refrain from smacking him (just this once!) and huff, “Just keep quiet, save your energy.”

He merely smiles at you as you stand back up keeping an eye on the steaming soup. He sniffs the air and his brows furrow, “Wait, you’re cooking? Shit, how have you not burned down my home yet? What have I told you about cooking without my supervision?”

Crossing your arms, you glare, “What was I supposed to do, ask you whilst you were unconscious?” Taehyun snorts weakly, peering away with a smirk, “Mm, fair point. Anyway, you’re making, ah, it seems to be vegetable soup. You still remember it? Impressive.”

You huff stirring the pot, “Don’t underestimate me, Taehyun. Of course I do,” you resume with a snarky smile, “I remember how you tirelessly nagged me through every step.”

Taehyun merely smirks, saying nothing as he peers down at his bandaging. He muses dryly, “You did all this? Huh, not bad. It certainly feels better this way.” Taehyun’s gaze meets yours with a mischievous glint, “It would be unfortunate if your soup would poison me after you worked so hard to heal me up, no?”

You huff, glaring at him, “You ungrateful imbecile! Here I was worried to pieces about you and yet you’re talking away and teasing me as if nothing happened! Oh, what a fool I was!” To think, your soup could not be that bad right?

A snicker escapes his lips at your dramatic response. He coughs feeling a shot of pain bolt through him. Taehyun loved teasing you like this; for some odd reason it made him feel warm inside whenever you’d cutely berate him back. He missed it dearly.

He was talking to you to take his mind off the discomfort of the wound and the extreme exhaustion from the overuse of mana. Taehyun’s eyes continue to observe you as you mediocrely make your way around his kitchen finishing up the soup. The way candlelight illuminates your face and your body, makes his heart flutter. The crease between your brows as you put your all into such a simple meal made him feel whole, even enthralled by your endearing behaviour.

Taehyun was indeed captivated by you nonchalantly cooking away. A scene oddly domestic, if it was not for the blood soaked clothes he had on and the bandages he wore. It made him incredibly happy inside that you looked after him. You were compassionate, caring, willing to try even if you didn’t know what you were doing. This fact alone separated you distinctly from any other nobles he recalled.

A heaviness appears in his heart as his thoughts become captured by you. You notice his intense gaze. “Are you scrutinising my technique? Don’t worry, I am sure it will be edible.” Taehyun dryly muses, “Good to know, sweetheart.”

After a few minutes, you pour the soup into a bowl and grab a spoon. Sitting beside him you hold out the spoon, “Here.”

“You’re going to feed me?” He asks slightly surprised. You glare, “Surely it will hurt if you raise your arm each time?” You had a point, he was also not going to complain about you feeding him. In fact he’d relish this moment of vulnerability.

With each spoonful, both your eyes meet. His gaze feels electric, looking at you with a new fiery intensity that leaves you breathless. This tender gesture of you feeding him made you feel warm inside. You had countless maids who catered to your every whim. You always had others to do things for you. This time, you did something for someone else. It felt good. It felt human.

Finishing up the soup, he hums, breaking the silence, “You know, if you added a little more pepper and a pinch more salt, it would have been perfect. But for a first attempt, it was rather delightful, good job.” You smile at him, “Thank you, Taehyun.” He muses, “Also it was indeed edible.” Rolling your eyes, you try to hold back a grin, “Yes, yes quite the feat, I know.”

You both chuckle before settling into a comfortable silence. The crickets and other insects chirp and buzz outside accompanied with the rustling of the trees and brush of the breeze. His rustic cabin groans and creaks.

The silence is broken as Taehyun murmurs, “Thank you,” he peers at you with genuine sincerity, “For getting me patched up, I mean. For believing in my sorcery,” he pauses for a moment, “Believing in me.”

For a second, you’re taken aback by his rawness and you return a sincere smile, “Why? I don’t need to be thanked. What you did for me, far surpasses my haphazard handiwork?” You avert your gaze, “In fact, I should be thanking you, Taehyun. Your skill, your power. The fact you risked yourself so boldly.”

Taehyun’s gaze never once leaves you as you speak with pure honesty. His heart raises upon hearing the praise leaving your sweet lips.

“Thank you for putting up with me, staying beside me. For…for not betraying me like so many others. I hope I’m not too unbearable to be around,” you awkwardly laugh.

Another moment of silence passes and your gaze meets his, leaving you breathless. He smirks, “I always knew you were the sappy type.” You groan as he shatters the sentimental atmosphere. “Oh come on, I am being honest,” you whine.

Taehyun hums, “Oh I know, I appreciate it.” His gaze softens as his lips morph back into a smile, “I really do. It’s just…endearing, seeing you not bickering with me for once. Being so sincere.” You clear your throat embarrassed, “A-Anyway, just don’t let the praise go to your head.”

“Oh princess, it’s far too late for that,” he grins. You huff placing the bowl and spoon in the sink not being bothered to wash it as you sink yourself back down onto the floor beside Taehyun.

You peer back down at his torso at the bandages now slightly stained pink with the remainder of the blood which had oozed out.

“Mm, admiring me so brazenly? Goodness, princess, how crude to place your gaze upon a topless man.” You glare, “Hold your tongue, you vain sorcerer. I was looking at your bandages, you fool.”

Taehyun snickers at your outburst of indignation. He wouldn’t mind if your pretty eyes eyed him for a bit. Not that he’d ever admit such a crude notion out loud. He’s also has his fair share of admiring your features, subtly of course. You were indeed a sight for sore eyes, particularly tonight under the candlelight where your skin glows golden and your hair glistens.

For some reason, he felt content away from the palace, just you and him. It was a strange feeling; he was someone who enjoyed his solitude and initially rebuked any hint of company. Though, the minuscule thought of being alone again in these woods hurt his so-called icy heart deeply. What was this feeling? No, he was denying the obvious. He didn’t want to cave in and make things awkward.

You were a royal, he was a mere sorcerer. So why was his heart still fluttering at your close proximity, your words, your mannerisms. Why were you so nonchalant, did you not see him in such a manner?

“Taehyun? Are you listening?” Your voice drones back in as he leaves his headspace, “Huh?” He asks, confused.

Groaning, you repeat, “I said are you listening? I asked whether the bandages hurt, are they too tight? I need to change them before morning, no?” Taehyun peers at you for a moment before replying, “No, no, you did a good job. They feel secure.” You sigh in relief, “Okay, I’m not exactly a healer so…”

He muses, “Well from your technique I figured. But, I suppose for a life or death situation you did a decent job.” Your expression becomes deadpan. What a brat!

You scoff, “Despite being injured and fatigued, you still remain irritating, a skill indeed. Not a good one, but a skill nonetheless.” Taehyun hums amused, “Why, thank you sweetheart. You still remain as fun to irritate as usual.”

Your mind begins to churn its gears as you think about everything that has happened. You ponder, what was the current situation in Luna? Beomgyu must be beyond infuriated. He had lost and he had no diplomatic grounds to enter Fortuna angrily unless he wanted to initiate a war, which would break the treaty. Ironically, you were safer in Fortuna, even more ironic, in the Woods of Mors.

“What’s your pretty head thinking about, hm?” He breaks your train of thought. “Mm? Oh, just Luna. Beomgyu, everything really.”

“Forget about that bastard, focus on what to do next. We’ve already made humongous progress by even being back here,” he reassures. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s not willing to start a war or dispute.” You nod slowly, “Yes…well I hope not for the sake of the people.”

Taehyun gives you a small smile, “You’ll get your crown back, then you’ll really be untouchable.” His remark and smile causes your heart to jump around in your chest. He had said it so cutely, that anyone would find themselves grinning like a fool. Your cheeks begin to hurt from smiling so frequently; you hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time. Being here together felt like your own pocket of time and space.

Your eyes gaze back at the dried blood on his trousers, unbuttoned shirt. “You should probably change clothes,” you suggest. He peers down and grunts, “Yes, it is rather grotesque, isn’t it?”

You muse, “Stay, I’ll grab a shirt for you.” You scramble around in his large wooden trunk amongst the clothes and select one.

“You have an awful selection of clothes. They’re pretty but they’re all different shades of black or brown,” you grumble settling back beside him. He snorts, “What about it? A muted colour palette never harmed anyone. Furthermore, it helps me blend better here in the woods.”

Rolling your eyes, you hand him the white shirt with ruffles near the collar, “I found this at the bottom,” you murmur. He scoffs, “Of course you’d choose that old thing.”

You glare, “Put it on, sorcerer.” With a groan he grabs the shirt and you notice for a moment a flash of a pained expression crosses his visage. You lean forward, “Wait- wait let me help.”

He is slightly startled by your proximity and the offer before he concedes handing you back the shirt. With shaky hands you slide down the arms of his stained black shirt carefully pulling the shirt off him revealing his strong built shoulders.

With shaky hands you guide his arms through the sleeves as he grunts in slight discomfort. Clearing your throat from being flustered, you mumble, “There. You can button up your shirt, I’m sure.”

Taehyun’s eyes twinkle as his lips twitch momentarily before speaking, “But, my wound hurts from moving it around just now.”

“You barely moved it, I did most of the guid-“ He interrupts, “What if I make it worse? The top button too, I’d have to raise my right arm and well, who knows how much that would hurt?” You glare unimpressed with his explanation but you decide not to argue back purely on the basis that he saved the both of you.

Leaning forward, you begin buttoning the buttons one by one. Your heart races at the closeness as he gazes intensely at your hands and back at your concentrated face. You didn’t want to meet his gaze; or look at his chest. Rather, you focus on the tiny button alone. Goodness! Why were your hands suddenly so clumsy?

Your hands begin to feel clammy as you clumsily put on the buttons. Why did you feel nervous? His breath lightly brushes against your ear and then your neck as you work your way down. The silence gave way to a tension between the two of you which had built up over a long while; seeming to now reach the brim.

You were nervous; so was he. You briefly raise your gaze to his and a shaky breath escapes your parted lips at the sheer intensity of his stare. His pupils had dilated and were trained on you. Both of you were locked in an intimate staring contest as your hand hovers over the last two buttons of his shirt over his belt.

“You stopped, why’s that?” His voice startles you; it takes on a rougher, lower edge - almost restrained in a way.

“I-“ you stammer, “Sorry, I’ll continue,” you fluster buttoning another button. He suddenly grabs your wrist making your heart reach your throat.

“Do I make you nervous?” He asks. You can’t meet his gaze. Truly, this once you can’t; you feel a warmth inside you - one you’ve never felt before. He did make you feel nervous, he made you giddy. Something about his presence, you yearned for it.

“Answer me sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes you do,” you whisper. “Hm,” he airs back. You can’t bring yourself to face him; this was just too embarrassing. You didn’t even know what could be used to describe this moment.

His voice takes on an amused tone, still raspier than usual, “Can’t look me in the eye? Not going to bite back at me? I’m teasing you, no?” No, it was different this time. How could you bicker with him when you feel your cheeks grow so hot?

Feeling overwhelmed, you go to get up abruptly but you’re stopped as he pulls you down by the wrist and you yelp as you brush against him; he hisses in pain as you press against his wound.

You begin to assert, “See- this is why…” you falter upon seeing how close his face was to yours. Oh, how he was so incredibly pretty. Charming, ethereal, chiseled features which would make even the reluctant damsels faint.

“This is why- what? Finish your sentence,” he muses. Taehyun wished to ascertain your reaction. You tempted him for far too long, he wanted to control himself, keep his delusions at bay as usual, but something about you tenderly caring for him, being so close to him where he could see you up close, feel your body heat, your soft hands brushing against his body. It was intoxicating.

“You’re being crude, having a noble lady so close to you like this, what’s g-gotten into you?” You breathlessly stammer. Taehyun’s lips form a coy smirk. Perhaps, this was a dream. It felt unreal, of course.

“You’re right, my apologies. You’re free to stand then,” he peers at you challengingly. Your heart pounds in your chest; why weren’t you rushing to get up? Why were you taking the time to hesitate?

The tension between you two was palpable, on the verge of breaking over the brim. Neither of you wanted to cave in, gaging each other’s reactions simultaneously, afraid of the consequences but far too gone to stop now and come to your senses.

“Y/n,” he calls out. Your name, he said your name for the first time; it felt intimate, making your lips tremble. “Get up,” he shakily warns, “I…I think we both know what’ll happen otherwise.”

As much as he wanted to, he had to hold himself back from kissing your sinfully tempting lips right here and now.

“What if I want it to happen?” Your voice breaks momentarily at your sudden remark. Taehyun stiffens letting go of your wrist; did he think of you as undignified? Instant regret floods your senses. This was far too crude for a noble lady of your standing. How could you give into instinct so easily?

A breathy chuckle escapes his lips as he leans slightly forward, “You never fail to surprise me,” his hand tentatively brushes against the side of your neck before sliding his fingers to the back of your neck pulling your face closer to his.

The tip of his nose brushes against yours as his breath caresses your lips making you shiver. He gages your reaction, noting you’re not pulling away, rather you’re peering at his lips. He smiles for a second before finally pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is brief, clumsy even. After all, you haven’t ever kissed anyone. Taehyun didn’t mind at all, neither did he. Being exiled certainly didn’t help, though reading his mother’s romance books that he shouldn’t have and garnering a few novels from the occasional merchant, gave him sufficient knowledge.

Well, the most useful was human instinct, carnal desire itself. A dangerously tempting guide. A breathless laugh escapes his lips, “Wait, wait, tilt your head a little more,” he tilts your head upwards slightly and to the right before leaning in; you feel incredibly embarrassed.

“Mm, your lips are soft,” he chuckles, “Don’t worry; I’m not an expert if it helps,” he leans in further once again brushing his lips against yours, “All I know is I want to do it again.” So did you. Your lips ache to meet with his soft ones.

You shakily grip his forearm as you close your eyes once more. With that, he pushes his lips against yours and he breathes out, “Move them with me, not against me, with me, sweetheart,” you nod, beginning to move your lips with his.

You had read an enormous array of romance novels; even some of the more erotic nature (not that anyone should know of course), but this, this was something you could truly never be prepared for.

As initially clumsy as the first kiss was, this one was far better. It is longer, you both find yourselves settling into a comfortable rhythm as your lips dance delicately with each other. The world around you was but a blur as Taehyun’s lips moved with yours tugging and pressing against them sending sparks through you.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders as you push yourself closer, finding yourself chasing his addicting lips. You would never admit it, you wanted this, just as much- no, more than he did.

Both of you part from each other, breathless, hot, it was a mere heated kiss, nothing too major yet it left the both of you desiring more.

“Fuck,” he sighs, leaning his head back against the wall with a dazed expression and shut eyes. Your fingers brush against your lips processing what had happened. You kissed him- he kissed you.

If this left you all hot and bothered, then what if you both- you shake your head abruptly getting up. No, no.

Taehyun peers up at you with a pitiful expression, almost as though he were a scolded puppy, “Y/n- princess, wait.” You regard him flustered; here he was acting as if he didn’t just press his lips to yours so salaciously. “You’re leaving?”

“I-“ you begin. Taehyun frowns, “Do you regret it? Please tell me you don’t.” It wasn’t an in the moment kind of thing was it? He wasn’t that type. Not a scoundrel to brush it aside?

You find yourself smiling at this; this hint of panic on his expression. You find the urge to tease him but refrain, “I don’t, Taehyun.”

His shoulders ease in relief and rather a subtle hue of red dusts his cheeks. Taehyun murmurs, “Well, that’s good to hear. I don’t either.” His words send your heart spiralling further. You didn’t know what this would develop into. It seemed that neither of you would admit to your feelings.

Taehyun muses, “Mind helping me up? I’ve been sitting here for over an hour. With a shake of your head, you walk over helping him up towards his bed and lying him down.

“Where will you sleep?” He asks. After all, he had let you sleep on the bed during your brief time here, last month.

“The floor,” you mumble awkwardly. You’ve never slept on the floor; how dreadful the idea was to you, but you were not willing to be selfish. Taehyun was injured, after all.

“No, you can sleep on the bed,” he insists. “You’re in pain, Taehyun,” you huff. He pushes himself to the other side of the single bed just before the edge with a pained grunt. “Goodness, what are you doing?” You groan exasperated.

“Making room,” he hums. Your heart races. For you. “That’s absurd, a man and woman in the same bed-“

He looks at you bewildered for a moment before cackling. “You are so…” he muses, “Why? Afraid you cannot resist me?” You snap, “Mind your words, sorcerer.”

He grins lazily, “Don’t be a brat, get in here. You won’t last even a minute on the floor. Be realistic.” You bite your lip as your brows furrow. How irritating; he was right! Crossing your arms, you huff, “Well- I just have to manage-“

“Okay, well, take the floor then,” he relinquishes insistence, quickly making you gawk at him. That quickly?

You peer down at the grim wooden floor. You spot a few nails bent out of the floor. A grimace paints itself onto your face. How did he sleep on this whilst you were here before? You frown.

You mumble pathetically, “Mm…Taehyun.” A smirk laces his lips with his eyes shut, “Mm?”Awkwardly, you mutter, “I’ll sleep on the bed. With…you.”

He opens one eyes peeking at you with a coy smile, “You want to sleep with me, sweetheart?”You gasp mortified, “You-! Heathen! That’s not what-“ Why did he phrase it like that?

“-You meant? Yes, yes, I know,” he grins, “Come here.” You couldn’t believe him. No, you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. This felt unbelievable.

You lie down beside him stiffly; his body heat resonates. “You’re going to fall off the bed at this rate,” he muses. “Move closer,” he hums. “That’s just-“ You splutter.

“If you can kiss me, mouth to mouth, you can’t sleep beside me?” He hums amused. With a glare you shift closer with embarrassment flooding you.

“Don’t get cocky, I’m merely humouring your insistence,” you mutter. Taehyun muses, “I’m sure you are, why thank you, princess.”

You scoff at his sarcasm. You feel the weight of his arm on your waist from behind, “Just so you don’t fall, of course. It’s a small bed.”

A smile plays on your lips; thankfully you were facing away from him, “…I see.”

You wonder when the both of you will get the courage to face your intertwined hearts?

However, for now, you were content.

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animasola86 · 3 months

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6: A Special Kind of Liquid

This is a rather unusual story about a girl (reader) who comes across a special little friend that she likes very, very much. But does she love it more than she loves her boyfriend (Sebastian)?

Summary: Things continue and take a strange turn as you and Sebastian (literally) ride out the effects of the strange aphrodisiac the squid has "blessed" you with. (Last chapter of the Squid Smut Series!)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader Genre: Smut // Words: 8.8k // [READ ON AO3]

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Excessive amounts of cum. Oral sex. Vaginal sex. Breeding kink. Deep (impossible) penetration. (Additional tags on AO3!) Read at your own risk!

← CHAPTER 5

(continued)

“You'll wake it...” you whine out quietly as Sebastian adds another finger, rubbing his groin against your leg almost needily.

“I'll be very quiet,” he hums back, pushing his fingers firmly in and out of you, while you hold your breath, hoping not to disturb the squid nestling in your bum.

Your breath hitches when he suddenly claims your mouth, pushing his tongue into it at the same time as he pushes a third finger into your wetness. Moaning against his lips, you're barely able to kiss him back, but he doesn't mind, closing his lips around yours, licking and sucking and nibbling, delving deeper, just like his fingers as he curls them inside you, expertly rubbing against your g-spot. Your limbs twitch as you force yourself to not lose it all over again.

But too late, as soon as your muscles contract, clamping down on his digits, you feel a deep thrumming inside your bowels. With a strained wail, you melt into his touches, letting him finger you senseless, kiss you breathless, and when he gently rolls you fully onto your back and lies on top of you, your eyes roll back as that special kind of vertigo assaults your senses once more.

His erection presses between your legs, guided by his wet fingers, and when he enters you with one swift motion, easily bottoming out in you, you moan into his mouth, your body jerking up under the sudden intrusion. The squid inside you stirs, but instead of moving along with the rapid rhythm of firmly slamming hips, it just thrums deeply, a constant vibration making your insides churn even more as the tension and pressure builds and builds.

Loud groans and grunts fill your ears as you lie beneath Sebastian's broad body, motionless, spent and at your absolute limit, yet he doesn't seem to care as he ruts into you with reckless abandon, pounding his length deep inside your tight space, each stab accompanied by wet squelching noises followed by shrill squeaks falling from your aching throat every time he prods your cervix almost brutally.

It feels as if he's splitting you right open, his weight and strength pushing you into the cushions, fingers gripping soft flesh, adding to the already existing bruises. And deep inside you is a throbbing sensation, making your muscles clench tighter and tighter around whatever occupies your cavities. You cry out soundlessly, body squirming and writhing, fighting the overwhelming assault on your senses.

Something warm floods your bowels, that burning liquid, oozing from the squid, seeping into your flesh, numbing the tension. You feel it stirring inside you, woken by the ruthless pistoning of the thick cock, whose bulging veins scrape over your sensitive flesh, whose thick head almost pierces your womb, whose girthy shaft rubs along your stretched entrance. Heavy balls slap against your bum, causing the creature lodged within to move with every thrust.

Your mind slips then, as exhaustion grips you, pulls you along, drags you into the darkness as everything happening to you fades to black...

You wake up with a sticky feeling between your thighs, on your whole body to be exact. Stirring on the lumpy, slightly damp surface of the couch, you roll onto your back, legs falling open, globs of white creamy substance seeping out of your clenching holes. You inhale sharply, tasting something bitter on your tongue before a pungent smell attacks your nostrils. Something warm and thick drips down your chin, and when you move, there's more of it on your breasts and your stomach. Even the couch is covered in it.

Leaning up on your elbow, you look around, feeling drowsy and confused. There's a strange emptiness inside you, no pressure or specific aches, although your insides churn, and when you shift again, something seems to be almost sloshing around inside you. You frown deeply. Despite the abundance of cum on your skin, there are two things you are missing immediately. The familiar tension of having a little squid shoved into one of your holes, and Sebastian.

Your eyes wander through the dimly lit Undercroft. What happened? You wonder, scratching your neck, retrieving your hand with more white stuff on it. What the bloody hell happened?

Breathing deeply, you sit up, rolling your shoulders. “Sebastian?” you ask quietly, your voice hoarse and barely recognizable. Slowly the soreness returns to your muscles, especially to your throat. Raising a hand to rub it gently, you take another look around. “Sebastian?”

Suddenly you see him, sitting on the floor, legs hugged to his chest, back turned to you, in a corner far away from you. Your eyebrows furrow. You stand up carefully, wiping at the sticky stuff on your skin, as your legs wobble beneath you. You almost lose your balance, yelping quietly, before you hold onto a nearby barrel to steady yourself. The longer you stand, the more your loins hurt, but you breathe through the pain and slowly make your way towards the crouched form of your boyfriend.

When you place a shaking hand on his shoulder, he flinches, issuing a strained little growl, but he doesn't look at you. You see his body shuddering slightly.

“What happened?” you ask aloud, your voice still raspy, and speaking hurts more than you've thought.

He doesn't reply immediately, head sunken on his arms. When he speaks, his voice is low and raw, muffled. “I... lost control...”

You frown even more, slowly going down on your knees, your hands on his arm as you urge him to look at you. He doesn't. “What do you mean?” you ask, although you have a notion what he means. But maybe you need to hear him say it.

“It's because of that thing...” he mumbles, slowly raising his head as he points ahead of him. There, in a little cage designed for singing birds, sits the not-so-little squid, shaking in its place as if humming violently, its eight arms coiled around the bars of its confinement.

You feel a wave of anger washing over you, seeing your precious pet treated like this, and you wince as you lean forwards but are held back by Sebastian's strong hand pulling you away from the cage. You stare at him, and when you meet his brown eyes, he quickly looks down again, shame plastered all over his freckled face.

“What do you mean?” you ask the same question again, slightly more demandingly and pointedly, despite the gravelly rasp of your broken voice, as you fall back on your knees slowly.

“Those... liquids that it... exudes...” he tries to explain, his voice feeble, strained as he stares at the squid. “Those must have... hallucinogenic properties... or... work like an... aphrodisiac...” He takes a shuddering breath. “I... don't know what happened... one moment I was... on top of you, and the next... I... ugh...”

You watch him closely, your anger switching with confusion and then... understanding. Looking down at your soiled body, you swallow hard, immediately wincing when your throat aches from the motion. He looks at you then, noticing your discomfort, and his eyebrows furrow even more, a truly saddened look sinking into his dark eyes.

“I am sorry,” he breathes, pressing his lips together to stop them from trembling. “I... I would never...”

“I know,” you whisper back as his voice breaks, and you put your hands back on his arm, scooting closer. He slowly relaxes under your touch.

“Are you hurting?” he asks softly as he leans his head against yours.

“I'll be fine,” you reply, moving one hand into his hair, lazily digging through his locks. “I might need a bath... and a deep scrub...”

His body shakes slightly when he lets out a short chuckle. “But no more dips in the Lake, okay?”

You shudder deeply as your eyes wander to the squid in its cage. Several emotions rush through you, ranging from disappointment to relief to a feeling of loss and a strange yearning. You are deeply conflicted. You know you probably shouldn't keep the (not-so) little creature. It had been fine for a whole month in which you've had the most amazing experiences, but seeing that it went all down the drain in just one night, you realize this might not work in the long run.

Not if you wanted to stay with Sebastian.

You have to choose, and in the end, the choice is pretty obvious. With a deep inhale, you wrap your arms around him and wedge your body right between his bent knees, pressing your sticky skin against his, and instead of being repulsed by it, he hugs you back, pulls you into his lap and crosses his feet behind you, really caging you in. He pushes his face into the crook of your neck and breathes deeply, his arms tight around your shoulders.

“Shall we bring it back?” you whisper after a long moment of resting in the comforting embrace before you turn your head slightly and look towards the little cage.

Your eyes widen when you realize the bars of it are bent out of shape and the cage itself is completely empty. When Sebastian notices the same thing, he quickly pulls you to your feet and lifts you off the ground by wrapping one arm under your rear, securely holding you against him.

“Where is it?” he gasps, looking around frantically.

Your heart is beating faster as you lean your arms on his shoulders, following his gaze. His bare feet tap around quietly as he walks you back to the couch, yet he doesn't put you down, instead holding you against himself protectively, his face grazing your breasts when he turns his head left and right. You look down at him, leaning back slightly.

“Forget about it,” you whisper hoarsely. He meets your gaze, tilting his chin up. Your hands cup his face. “It's probably already in the sewers and then back home in no time...” Your words fill you with a sense of loss as you imagine your cute little squid pet swimming through the Lake, probably looking for its next unsuspecting victim.

He shifts you on his arms, tightening the grip around your backside. “What if it comes back... for more?”

You shiver at the thought, unsure if it's fear or arousal. “I think I'm safe,” you say with a slight smirk, rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks. “As long as you don't come in contact with it...” you add teasingly. His face warms under your touch, and he looks away with a deep exhale.

“You know, I almost wish I'd remember what happened...” he then whispers, gently putting you down on a nearby crate (after checking for any lurking creatures). “I mean... seeing you like this, covered in my cum...” He clears his throat. “Must have been quite the experience...”

You snort, swaying your feet as you press your legs together and lean back on your arms. “It's also quite impressive... I mean, the sheer amount of it...” you breathe out with a soft chuckle, looking down at the dried up flecks on your stomach. Curiously you poke at it, scratching it off your skin mindlessly. His hand finds your wrist, and you look up in surprise.

His dark eyes bore into yours. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up!” he says firmly, ready to scoop you up into his arms again.

You hold him back. “I thought you liked seeing me like this...”

He scoffs. “I... do, but... next time, I want to be present when I... do that,” he mutters almost stubbornly, letting his eyes wander over your skin. “I want to see it hit your skin, feel the pressure when it shoots out, see it dripping down your body...” He licks his lips, his voice a breathy whisper as he stares at your mouth. “I... want to see you... swallow it all...”

A deep shiver makes you gasp softly before you reach your hands out and grab his arms, pulling him closer to you. He steps between your thighs, gently pushing them open, his gaze still scanning your body. Your fingers glide over his chest downwards, the muscles in his stomach tensing as you graze them.

“I want that too,” you whisper back breathlessly, that tension in your gut coiling up all over again.

Biting your lip, you look up at him, seeing the same desire burning in his brown eyes. Without breaking eye contact, you lower your hands until they brush against his erection. You're surprised he is already this hard, his tip coated in precum and the veins on his shaft throbbing badly as you move your fingers over them. You don't want to tell him this, but you have the feeling he's bigger than usual. Much bigger.

“Is this... still –” you stammer slightly, looking down finally, confirming your suspicion. He is huge! (He's always been rather big, but not this big...)

“– from that bloody squid thing? Yes. I've been this hard since I came to... Some potent stuff, eh?” He inhales sharply, probably in quite the discomfort in this state. Though you'd like to think you might be in more discomfort, imagining him doing it all to you with that thing. Especially your throat hurts just looking at his girth.

“Potent, yes,” you chuckle softly, trying to laugh it off, as you wrap both of your hands around his length, gently squeezing him. “So, do you need some help with this?” you offer quietly.

He raises his eyebrows, surprise plastered all over his freckled face. “Really? After everything I've done to you?”

“What? Do you expect me to run away just because you fucked me a little too hard?” You chuckle, continuing to stroke him expertly.

“A little? I... I think I did a little more than that...” he stammers, tilting his head.

“I thought you can't remember...”

“I can't... it's all a blur... but...” He extends his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just looking at you, I know I've been pretty rough with you...” He cups your cheek and presses his thumb against your bottom lip. “I've certainly fucked your throat,” he says quietly before his hand moves down your neck, his long fingers tentatively closing around it, squeezing lightly. “Choked you too...”

You inhale deeply as you follow the movement of his hand downwards. He brushes his fingertips against your breasts before flicking your nipples that harden under the touch.

“And I've fucked your tits...” he utters, letting a finger glide through the valley between them, scraping at a speck of dried cum. “And unloaded all over you... from your face to your chest to your stomach...” His hand moves lower, teasing your mound. “And by the looks of it, I might have fucked both of your holes... and filled them to the brim...” He teases a finger between your folds, the wet squelching sound confirming his words.

You swallow hard before you take a shuddering breath, licking your swollen lips as you watch him raise his hand, seeing a thick glob of creamy cum on his fingertip. Without even thinking, you let go of his cock and cradle his hand between your fingers instead, bringing it closer to your mouth. You hold his heated gaze as you extend your tongue and lick along his calloused fingertip, tasting his still warm essence. His eyebrows shoot up as he watches you closely, a deep shudder rushing through his body.

“And I believe we're both still under the influence of that squid juice, huh?” he says, his voice hoarse, his whole body tense as he steps slowly closer, pressing between your legs.

“Probably,” you reply, your own voice a breathy whisper. As your heart beats faster inside your heaving chest, you can only focus on one thing: the taste lingering on your tongue.

For a long moment, or so it seems, you just stare at each other, taking in the sight of the other's arousal, trying to make sense of those intense feelings inside you, the need, the yearning, the burning desire. Your breath hitches, and when you make up your mind on what to do, you place your hands on his chest and push him back before you jump off the crate, grab his shoulders, spin him around and not so gently shove him against the old wooden box.

He gasps, and when you get down on your knees in front of him, your hands gliding down his body until you grip his thighs, he inhales sharply as you start licking up and down his hard member, breathing heavily against his hot flesh. Cursing under his breath, he leans back, his body tensing under your ministrations.

Your mind is filled with that special kind of dizziness, no coherent thought is able to penetrate the haze inside it, all you do is follow the instincts of your body, its urges. And so you lap at his cock as if it's the most delicious piece of meat you've ever tasted (he probably is), your tongue gliding up from his base in one long broad stroke, over throbbing veins and tight sweaty skin, until you curl it along his tip, sucking and nibbling on it hungrily.

His noises range from shuddering breaths to deep groans to low growls and sinful moans. Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you see his face contorted in nothing but pleasure, his eyes closed, eyebrows knitted, mouth hanging open. You continue your assault on him by closing your lips tightly around his tip, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard, pulling more and more drops of precum out of his slit that you lap up with fervour.

Your own noises are muffled, rapid huffs against his skin, deep hums vibrating through his cock as you take him deeper into your mouth, your tongue pressed to the underside of his shaft, feeling his erratic heartbeat thrumming against it, while your lips tighten around him as you bob your head back and forth, the friction on his hot skin causing you both to groan deeply.

Your eyes flutter shut as you force him deeper until he hits the back of your throat, and despite the initial soreness and reluctance of it, you press forward, your hands gripping his hips as you pull your head closer until your nose is pressed into his curly hairs and his cockhead is buried deep inside your throat, blocking your airways, enhancing the dizziness inside your head.

He lets out a strained grunt, stumbling against the crate, before his hands grab your hair, fisting it roughly as he pulls you even closer, holding you there until tears press past your lashes and the urge to gag grows stronger. Eventually you do, the uncontrollable shudders of your body making you twitch against him as spit and bile force their way up your throat, and as your fingernails dig into his skin, he releases you, and you lean back, spluttering and coughing, precum and saliva dripping from your lips as you take deep rasping breaths.

Wiping your soiled mouth, your chest heaving, you don't even care about the state you're in, you go right back to sucking him off, licking and nibbling and bobbing your head, repeating the motion, deliberately swallowing around him, until you feel him twitching inside your mouth. You lean back then, mouth wide open, tongue extended, hands gripping his base and balls, his heavy cock bouncing slightly against your lips as he climaxes with a loud drawn-out groan.

Holding your face in place, you barely flinch when his cum hits your skin, the first erratic drops painting your cheek and the bridge of your nose before the rest shoots right into your mouth, piling on your tongue, more and more, until your cheeks bulge when you have to swallow it, more spurts hitting your closed lips when you do, dripping down your chin, before you open up again, taking more.

The squid juice seems to lose its potency slowly, because apparently, unlike last time, he is able to stop at some point, though you've still received at least three mouthful and numerous hits to the face and to your chest. He is panting when he is finally spent, his own hand gripping his still erect penis as his eyes wander over the mess he made on you.

You lean back on your knees and lick your lips, wiping some lumps out of your eyes, before you scoop some up on your fingers to bring them to your mouth, though not to lick it off but to push your digits deep into your mouth to suck on them. He takes a shuddering breath, and the next thing you know, he is kneeling in front of you, pulling at your hand, grabbing your face and forcing his tongue into your mouth.

You kiss him back with need, your head spinning, all your senses so heightened you feel as if you're floating. He's holding you steady, your tongues entangled, licking and sucking, soft moans and whimpers falling from both of your throats. He ends up sitting with his back pressed to the crate while you climb onto his lap, his erection bumping against your stomach as you straddle him.

The kiss continues, messy and desperate, and after you grind your pelvis against him for a few long moments, his hands wander down your sides, pinching at your hips before grabbing your rear, kneading your soft flesh, pulling your cheeks apart and pressing you even closer to him. You shift only slightly, one hand between your bodies, until you grab his cock and guide it towards your needy entrance, your juices coating your sensitive skin, your walls already clenching in anticipation.

Lifting your hips a bit, you let his tip slip into your warmth, the stretch to your skin more than you've anticipated, but you keep going, slowly lowering yourself onto him, letting gravity assist you, until he is fully sheathed inside you, crown bullying your cervix, your walls moulded to his shaft, balls teasing at your folds. He fills you to perfection, and you moan deeply into his mouth as your hands lace around his neck, thumbs pressing against his throat teasingly.

His dark gaze meets yours while his hands grip your hips, deepening the bruises he's already left there, and you shudder under the sensation. Licking your raw lips, you stare at him, then dive back in to shove your tongue into his mouth, your combined moans echoing through the Undercroft. You don't even move at first, relishing in the fullness of having him inside you, warm and hard and throbbing, and for the tiniest moment your thoughts wander back to your little squid friend as you wonder where it is and if it will fill you out like this ever again.

Those thoughts dissipate the second Sebastian starts bucking his hips up, spearing you as he pushes even deeper, and you gasp against his lips, the sudden sting piercing through your nerves. Leaning back, your hands on his shoulders, you try to control your heavy breaths, watching him with a hunger you've never felt before.

Then you finally shift on your knees, straining your muscles to lift yourself up, and your walls cling to his cock as you move upwards, only to clench back around him once you slam down again forcefully. The motion causes him to groan while you press your lips together, a concentrated look on your face as you relish in the sharp pain whenever he hits your cervix. Repeating the same agonizingly slow rhythm, your body is soon covered in goosebumps, quiet whimpers escaping past your trembling lips.

His fingers dig into your hips as he lets you ride his erection, watching you with his pupils dilated and his tongue between his lips, breathing loudly through his nose. As you arch your head back, your hair falling over your shoulders, you moan loudly, your own slow pace driving you nearly insane. The more you move, the wetter you become, the combination of old and fresh liquids squelching with every downwards slam of your hips.

You feel dizzy again, barely able to keep going, and so it's him who picks up speed as he grips your hips even tighter, denting your skin, and starts thrusting upwards, bending his knees for you to lean against and for him to have better leverage as his thighs strain against your cushioned arse.

And while he bounces you on his lap, impaling you roughly with each quick snap of his pelvis, your fingers dig into his shoulders before you slump forwards with quiet, irregular whimpers, your forehead brushing against his as he looks at you intently, your eyelids fluttering as much as your walls flutter around his cock.

The sound you issue is a strained gasp, your throat unable to convey the sensation bubbling up inside you as you come with a force that shudders through your body like an earthquake. Your fingernails sink into his skin as your body convulses, your muscles contract, clamping down on him hard, and he groans under the pressure, barely able to keep moving as you tighten up almost impossibly.

He wraps his arms around you as you shiver, your orgasm crashing through you in waves of uncontrollable twitches, your head rolling back, your mouth hanging open as you stare up at the vaulted ceiling even though you cannot see a thing as bright lights and black spots dance in tandem at the edge of your vision, the familiar sensation of dizzy weightlessness taking over everything you feel.

While you float above it all, Sebastian anchors you to the ground, his embrace bone-crushingly strong as he grits his teeth and works his hips against the tight hold of your walls, his legs trembling as he pushes his feet firmly against the dirty floor, his knees shaking, his thighs straining, while he slips in and out of your contracting cunt until he lets out an almost animalistic growl as the tension within him breaks free.

With one final upwards thrust that pushes him deeper than ever before, he releases his load inside you, warm and sticky and unrelenting, cock twitching and spasming, his balls tightening as he empties himself fully, filling you to the brim and beyond until it slowly starts dripping from your tight connection. He collapses against you, holding you with his muscles aching, his head resting on your shoulder, his heavy breaths loud in your ear.

Eventually you come to, your head spinning, the warmth flooding your insides enough to ground you again. Your arms snake around his neck, hands rubbing over sweaty skin, your chest heaving against his. Both panting and exhausted, bodies pushed to their limits, you remain sitting on his cock for a long while, muscles clenching and relaxing around him, more of his seed dripping out of you.

You feel sticky all over and you couldn't care less. There's still not a single coherent thought inside your mind, there's only instincts. The smell of sex lingers in the air, and it fills your nostrils as you inhale deeply, sucking it in as if you can't get enough of it. And you can't. You slowly loosen your grip around Sebastian's shoulders and lean back against his propped-up legs, shifting on top of him.

He also moves back, head resting against the crate as he watches you out of hooded eyes, licking his lips while breathing loudly through his nose. You hold his gaze, hearts beating in tandem as you assess the situation, seemingly gathering your strength, knowing you are not done yet.

And sure enough, after the tension between you gets to both of your heads (or sexes more likely), his hands find your waist and he pulls you off his lap with ease, even though your walls cling to him as he does, and when he gently lies you down between his legs, your connection breaks and his cock slips out, followed by several globs of creamy cum that spill from your oversaturated cunt.

You're lying on your back, not even bothering about the dusty stone floor, looking up at him as he scrambles over you, your chest rising and falling fast, and when he leans down to press open-mouthed kisses to your quivering breasts, you gasp softly and relax beneath him, your skin tingling as he starts sucking on it hungrily, slowly working more and more bruises into it.

Breathing heavily against you, he makes his way up to your neck, continuing his ruthless assault as he nibbles on your pulse, sucking and licking, while you squirm slightly against him, your hands clawing at his arms, that tension in your stomach building up all over again. You press your feet to the ground and angle your hips up, missing the close contact as you push your pelvis against his needily.

He leans back and looks at you from under his lashes, his eyes nearly black with his pupils dilated, and the hunger within them almost scary. You swallow hard, ignoring the sting to your throat, and lick your lips. You see him clenching his jaw, that muscle flexing under his skin, and then he is in your face, mouth claiming yours for a searing kiss that leaves you completely dizzy.

But it's only a short, intense one before he leans back again, settling between your spread legs on his knees, his hand wrapping around his surprisingly still erect cock. You watch him breathlessly, the heat pulsing inside you, and when he pushes his tip against your folds, you inhale sharply, expecting your muscles to protest, but because his cum is still coating your walls, he slips in with ease, pushing into you with a loud squelching sound as he presses his seed deeper.

The sensation sends goosebumps over your limbs, even more so when he repeats the motion once more, and once more, over and over again, always fully pulling out, watching new globs of cum spilling from your clenching entrance, then pushing back in, until you're slightly gaping and all his seed is deposited deep enough to stay where it is. Only then does he enter you fully, easing his passage into your tight warmth with tiny thrusts before he bottoms out with a deep sigh falling from his lips.

You're a mewling mess, your stomach tensing as he fills you again. But he doesn't move yet, he stays there, sheathed as far as he can go, as he grabs your legs and presses them to your chest, holding your thighs firmly in place as he leans over you. Your arms are splayed beside your head, sweat trickling down your temple, your eyes unfocused as you look up at him.

He watches you, his breaths heavy, his dark eyes wandering over your flushed skin, over the love bites blooming on the soft mounds of your breasts and on the slender column of your neck, and over the fresh and dried streaks of his cum sticking to your chest and face. Seeing you marked like this, makes his heart race and his cock pulse inside your warm embrace. Marked as his.

It might be the squid fluid still clouding his mind, but maybe it's something else, something he's always stored away because he thought it might be too much, too strange, too outlandish to even think about.

Well, not as outlandish as your desire to shove a small tentacle monster into your holes, but still nothing he would just talk about freely. Not now while you're both stressed about exams and the future, even though those things have not crossed either of your minds during however long you've spent in this sex frenzy now.

But the thought comes back to him now, as he sees you splayed out beneath him, your feet dangling in the air, held wide open while he is balls deep inside your clenching cunt. He wants to go deeper. He wants to really mark you, deep within, he wants to fill your womb until you're overflowing, until any protective charm or potion gives out, he wants to breed you.

And seeing how achingly potent that stupid squid has made him just by oozing its fluids all over him (and you), it's the only thing he can think about now that his mind has passed the more animalistic phase of just rutting into you uncontrollably. Now the same rutting has a purpose.

It's like a sign from the gods, not that he ever believed in any higher power, but somehow the existence of a tiny sea creature that had the audacity to crawl into your pussy uninvited, which has been his for the last two years, made him realize that he needed to do more. He wanted to support you in your needs for unusual satisfaction, he wanted to be cool about it, but deep within he wants you to himself, inside and out, all of you, it should all be his!

With the squid gone, to hopefully never be seen again, this is his chance. To reclaim you, to show you that you don't need a strange creature to satisfy your deepest, darkest desires. All you'll ever need is him.

And while he imagines prodding your cervix, forcing it open to penetrate your womb so he can fill it to the brim and beyond, you lie beneath him, wondering why he is smiling down at you with that strangely absent look in his dark eyes. Has he forgotten that he's buried balls deep inside your needily clenching cunt? Should you remind him or rather use the quiet moment to try and catch your breath, knowing that he will probably continue your squid-juice-induced lust for each other.

You don't have to ponder this for too long, because suddenly he snaps out of it again, inhaling sharply as his fingers tighten around your thighs, pressing them firmer down as he shifts on top of you. But instead of using the position he's in to really piston his hard erection into you, he collapses on top of you, smothering you under his weight, his arms snaking past your legs as they cradle your head between his big hands. You can't breathe, but you also don't care as he kisses your earlobe and whispers:

“I love you.”

These three quiet words, barely audible, said with passion and desperation, make you shiver more than how his cock currently prods your deepest point. Exhaling the rest of the air left in your lungs, you wrap your arms around him and hold him close, as close as possible, hands flat on his shoulder blades as your bodies mould together even more.

You feel his muscles moving under your touch, and while his lips press to that sweet spot right below your earlobe, his hips press down on you hard, and with the very uncomfortable stone floor in your back, not giving you any leeway, you can't help but cry out loudly as he impales you deeper than ever before, that sharp sting shuddering through you painfully.

The dizziness is back inside your head, and as he starts to give you short but rapid stabs, you're quickly overcome with that mixture of pain and pleasure, so close to the edge of making you scream in agony and mewl in nothing but bliss. Balancing the rather unfamiliar sensation, you groan and grunt with every slam of his hips against your tightly folded body as his cock slips in and out fast, now really pistoning into you with ease, with your juices flowing freely and your walls fluttering around him, stretching more with every deep thrust that seems to pierce right through your cervix.

He growls into your ear, arms tight around your shoulders as he holds you during his relentless assault, unaware of the tears streaming down your face and the quiet squeaks of discomfort that fall from your trembling lips, he doesn't even care that your fingernails draw blood on his back as you cling to him helplessly. He keeps going, faster and faster, in and out, deeper and deeper as he pounds away at you, balls slapping against your bum, those wet squelching noises echoing through the Undercroft.

It is when he seems to breach territory he might have never breached before, that you come around his cock with a shrill drawn-out scream, your walls clamping down on him, possibly trying to pull him back as his thick tip forces its way through your cervix, not that you are able to even think about any anatomical formalities while your body spasms wildly under the sensation, your toes curling up as you stretch your legs into the air and sink your fingernails even deeper into his skin.

Breathing seems impossible in that moment as your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open and the pain explodes into a million tiny lights, blinding you, numbing you, almost paralysing you. While you are thrown around like a leaf in a storm by your unusual orgasm, Sebastian grunts loudly as he pulls back one last time before burying himself so deep inside you that the tight squeeze makes him come instantly.

With his twitching cock lodged inside your breached gate, his thick cum spurts right into your womb without any hindrance, and despite the shaking of his limbs, knowing that the squid juice is slowly losing its potency on him, he still fills you up, more and more with every erratic spasm, every squeeze of his tight balls, every pulsing of blood in his bulging veins.

His breathing eases in your ears as he slowly relaxes on top of you, while you lie beneath him, trapped by his body and an overwhelming feeling of nausea as he pumps you full of his seed.

He could stay like this forever, having you under him, deeply connected, claimed as his. But he notices the ragged breath you're trying to maintain, the way your body tenses around him, the way you're quietly... sobbing? His head is still void of any rational thought, the primal need he's just satisfied burning through him like a wildfire, yet when he lifts his head slightly and looks at you, looks at the strained expression on your flushed, wet face, your eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling, eyebrows furrowed, something pushes past the haze.

Worry... and guilt.

And eventually he slips away, the way out apparently easier as the way in, and when he does, he rolls you around with him, adding to your dizziness, until you can relax on top of him, your legs finally able to stretch fully again, your body unfolding as you rest on his warm body, though he quickly spins you around once more, making you lie on him with your back pressed to his chest and his cock squished along the cleft between your bum cheeks, before he places his big hands gently on your stomach, holding you in place as you lean your head against his shoulder, breathing deeply into his touch.

You don't question the weird position, you just want to come down from it all, your body screaming for a different kind of release, a break. Your arms and legs fall to the side, spent and boneless, and you don't even care how sticky you feel, from tears to sweat to cum dripping from your clenching hole. He seems to care though, at least about one of those things, as you suddenly feel one of his hands slipping from your stomach to cup your mound, his fingers blindly prodding at your entrance, pushing his seed back into your aching walls and holding it there.

You let him do whatever makes him happy, you just close your eyes and feel your consciousness slipping as all the escapades you just experienced catch up with you. With his hands on the small bulge in your belly and securely holding your pussy to prevent any more leaking, Sebastian is determined to remain like this, holding you trapped in his arms, but his stamina is fading too, and without being able to control it, his grip on you slips as he too slips into a deep slumber.

With both of you completely passed out after the unusual exertion, none of you notice the quiet scratching sound as the squid drags its body over the stone floor of the vast room, its tentacles pulling it forwards as it approaches the heap of limbs you two have coiled up into.

Sleeping soundlessly, your legs have fallen open, and with Sebastian's hand falling away as well, letting thick chunks of cum drip from your depths, there is nothing stopping the creature from crawling closer to your warmth.

Instead of slipping inside you with its head first like usual, it positions its tendrils at your opening, thin tips poking deep, squelching through the white substance seeping from you, and slowly the squid lets its tentacles pull it up and into your wetness, the wide base struggling to fit at first, but then, with a quiet pop, it slips inside, vibrating slightly to move closer to your core, and there, at your bruised cervix, it extends its tendrils, pushes right into your womb and erases any claim of ownership from the boy lying beneath you as it slowly feeds off his fluids now.

And when the bulge in your stomach is gone completely, the squid forces its way back out of you, causing you to stir slightly as it stretches your walls and pushes past your clenching entrance. Once it plops onto the floor with a wet squelching noise, it grows even more, its eight tentacles thick and long and covered in bumps and suctions cups, its body wider and longer and more rounded, its head a perfect triangle with soft edges.

Out of its base, where its puckered mouth still devours the feast it just snatched from your insides, it suddenly grows two additional tentacles, a lot longer and thicker than the others, its tips wider and almost egg-shaped. One of those makes its way back between your legs, teasing your folds before it slips in once more, struggling to fit before a pulsing motion goes through the appendage. When it retreats once more, it is much thinner.

The other new tentacle then does the same, pushing its rounded head into you with a loud pop, then undulating against you, slipping deep and leaving you a tiny parting gift before it pulls out again.

Then the squid lifts its body onto its eight arms (or legs), using the additional tendrils as support, and slowly crawls back into the shadows, away from the pile of unconscious bodies, a quiet tapping and popping sound echoing eerily through the Undercroft as it does so.

And luckily none of you have witnessed the strange transformation and behaviour, because none of you would sleep this peacefully otherwise.

Later

You wake up to a soft mumbling that seems to move through the room. Stirring slightly, you find yourself wrapped in an abundance of warm blankets, covering you from head to toe, and you're lying on the lumpy couch that smells like... soap. Actually everything seems to smell of soap as you take a deep inhale and slowly open your eyes.

You feel groggy, your eyelids heavy, your body too wrapped up to move, but you still feel your muscles aching despite the warmth seeping through them. Licking your dry lips, you look around in confusion, your head pounding horribly.

The murmurs continue, and eventually you find their source. Sebastian is slowly walking through the Undercroft, completely dressed, pointing his wand at everything and mumbling under his breath, and you see water and soap bubbles and steam spurting from its tip. He's cleaning the entire place, you realize, and with that thought, the memories come back, albeit scrambled and kind of foggy.

Groaning quietly, you close your eyes as you remember the things you two have done during your drug-induced frenzy. You feel hot all over, but the shivers still rush through you, causing your muscles to ache even more. A sudden sob escapes you as you feel a sharp pain piercing your insides, and as sudden as the noise, as quickly he is with you, kneeling in front of the couch, his wand clattering to the floor, as his hands gently cup your face.

You stare into brown eyes full of worry, and you blink slowly, swallowing hard, wincing again, forcing yourself to smile.

“Shh,” he makes and rubs his thumbs over your cheeks. “Take it easy. Don't move too much.”

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes for a moment. “Wh–” you start, but he shushes you again, scooting closer, one hand on your face, the other tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear before it leaves you again.

“Here, drink this, it'll help with the headache,” he offers then, holding up a small vial containing a green liquid. Wiggenweld. You gag slightly just thinking about tasting the bitter potion. “Trust me, it'll make it better!”

Screwing up your eyes, pursing your lips, you oblige reluctantly, letting him help you drink the awful thing. At first you would rather continue being in that gut wrenching pain, but then the effects settle in and at least the headache slowly fades away. You let out a strangled noise.

“How bad is it?” he whispers.

You can only groan, feeling... everything. Except one thing. Your memories are hazy, even more so when you try to remember more. You see an empty cage in your mind, but the feeling of loss you've experienced is replaced with something like relief, because there's that one memory, the last one you have, even though it's very flimsy and you're barely able to catch it. But you know it happened. You just know.

Your pet isn't gone. It has been here, with you, inside you, before everything has turned to black. But it is no more.

“Wh-where... is it?” you rasp barely audible as you open your eyes and look at Sebastian.

A dark shadow crosses his worried features, turning his freckled face into a stoic mask, his jaw clenching hard. He stares at you, long, unblinking, his eyes narrowed. After everything that's happened, after everything he's done, and is doing now to make up for those other things, the first thing on your muddled mind is that stupid squid?

“Gone,” he says coldly, his voice low. You frown at his tone, but then sigh and turn your face away. “But I'm here,” he adds quietly, sounding almost pleading now. You look back at him, your eyes wandering over his face. The shadow is still there, but his features soften slowly. “And I'll always be here for you...”

You furrow your eyebrows before you swallow hard, ignoring the strain to your throat. Wriggling out of your blanket cocoon a little bit, you raise a shaking hand to touch his jaw, fingertips brushing over the tensing muscle. He relaxes slightly, his own hand holding your face as he leans closer. You feel his hot breath on your raw lips.

“I'm sorry,” you then whisper hoarsely. He frowns at that, surprise washing over him.

“You're sorry? What for?” he asks, his voice slightly higher as he stares at you in disbelief.

“For... letting it influence me so much,” you reply quietly as you lower your eyes. “I... I should have been... satisfied... with what you're giving me... and I am, I am, Sebastian!” you repeat frantically as you look back at him, your hand slipping around his head to grab the back of his neck. “I love you...” you add in a breathy whisper. “And I don't need... a special pet... I only need you...” Even as you say this, you feel a strange emptiness eating at your insides. Might be the loss of a special little friend, but it's probably just withdrawal from its literally addictive properties.

He watches you closely, definitely noticing the conflict in your wavering gaze. “I love you, too,” he whispers and leans in closer, his nose nuzzling yours. “But don't fool yourself, love, you miss that bloody thing...”

You bite your lip and sigh, trying to hold his gaze. “Maybe... that's why I'm sorry... it's not fair...”

His turn to sigh before he huffs a quiet laugh. He doesn't say anything though, he just closes the rest of the distance and gently presses his lips to yours, his eyelids drooping. You kiss him back softly, closing your eyes and leaning into the warmth of his mouth which quickly spreads all over your aching body. The blankets feel hot and suffocating now, and you struggle slightly against them.

Yet instead of helping you loosen them, he moves his body onto the couch next to you, pushing you against the back of it carefully, one arm wrapped around you as the other cradles your head while he keeps kissing you. You squirm in his tight embrace, slowly leaning back, your eyes fluttering open.

“Why did you wrap me in so many blankets? I'm not cold...” you whisper against his lips.

His mouth twists into a smirk, and you feel his cheek warming up under your touch. “I... uh... heard warmth is good against sore muscles,” he says hoarsely. There's a twinkle in his dark eyes.

You scoff lightly, a strange thought creeping into your mind. “So you're not trying to... incubate something?”

His eyes widen, and he leans back quickly, his face, however, bright red. “What? No!” he says a tad too fast, looking along your body. “I... I... uh...” he stammers before clearing his throat. “Probably didn't work anyway,” he then adds under his breath, sounding almost disappointed as his free hand runs along your side and hovers over your stomach a little too long.

“You... want it to work?” you whisper barely audible.

“Would you?” he replies quietly, looking back at you almost timidly.

You blink slowly, trying to understand what he is even implying (though you're way past implications at this point, especially with his hand rubbing slow circles over your stomach). “How did we get from... fucking like rabid animals to... this? Wondering about... our future?”

“We're probably still high on squid juice,” he chuckles humourlessly, before his eyebrows shoot up. “Hang on, our future? Did you say our future?”

You frown, a deep throbbing in the back of your head. “Didn't you start this by trying to... breed me?” you whisper, your lips contorting into a smirk.

His eyes widen even more. “You remember that?”

“I was there, Sebastian!” you laugh and hit his chest playfully. “Of course I remember that... as a matter of fact, I can still feel it!” you add and shift slightly in your blanket cocoon, feeling the sharp sting deep inside your body. A shudder rushes through you as you remember how it felt when he breached your cervix.

His eyebrows furrow deeply, and he swallows hard. “I... I just want you to know that I... I wasn't thinking clearly, okay? That... that stupid squid and its... juices... I–I would have never done this, not without discussing it with you first, I was just so... so...” He inhales deeply and leans his head against yours. “I guess I was jealous after all... I wanted to... make you mine again...” he adds quietly, chewing on his lips.

You slip your fingers into his hair and gently massage his scalp. “But I am yours...” you whisper softly.

He breathes loudly against you. “All mine?” he asks, looking and sounding almost childlike when his deep brown eyes wander over your face, a tiny smirk playing around the corner of his mouth.

Laughing softly, but not too much as the motion seems to stir up all your aching muscles, you nod, gripping his hair tighter. “Yes...”

The smirk turns into a wide smile, lighting up his entire face. Huffing a seemingly hopeful exhale, he snuggles against you, gently pressing you against his chest as he holds you, kissing the top of your head. His heartbeat is hammering against your ear as you close your eyes and lean into his warmth.

You've always been his, through thick and thin, ever since he swept you off your feet in your fifth year (or rather the other way around). For two years you were completely committed to one another, unconditionally, depending on the other on more than one occasion.

And as you lie in his warm embrace, you realize that you've let a tiny magical creature slither its way between you, trying to lure you off the beaten path, seduce you away from him, and even though you've enjoyed the ride (quite literally), you know you'll never need anything else, anyone else, but the freckled boy holding you tightly.

← CHAPTER 5 // BACK TO THE BEGINNING?

End notes: Thank you for joining me on this unusual ride! This started as a weird little idea and escalated quite a bit. I apologize for it being so vile, I honestly have tried to write less... lewdly, but seems I just can't. Or I'll have to try again, on something else. You'll see!

You may also have noticed some hints I dropped in this chapter for a possible... sequel? One day, the Squid Smut Series may continue with more Squid x Reader adventures!

Until then, thanks again for reading and braving the filth! I appreciate each and every one of you, even if you just read this without engaging for very obvious reasons. I don't blame you. I wouldn't admit to liking this either, and I wrote it! XD (And to those who have shown their support: thank you so much! It means the world to me!)

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#mysmut #smut #reader insert #x reader #female reader #f!reader #fem reader #dirty mind #ao3 writer #ao3 smut #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow x reader

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anemptypuddingcup · 10 months

Text

❤️🤍Mari’s Series Masterlist❤️🤍

Welcome to my series master list! This post will consist of all the series I’ve made so far!

If I won’t make a general masterlist, I’ll at least make one for all the series I’ve created.

Monkey D. Luffy

Sweeter Than Sugar !Completed!

Part 1 Part 2 Extra

Roronoa Zoro

Wishes Aren’t Real

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Vinsmoke Sanji

An Angel in the Camera !Completed!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Multi

Yandere Monster Trio

Luffy’s ver. Zoro’s ver. Sanji’s ver.

Excessively-Pierced Series!

Excessively-Pierced Sanji. Excessively-Pierced Luffy.

Excessively-Pierced Zoro.

Dream Demon Series!

Yearning For More Than Just Dreams.

Sleep Paralysis Demon Zoro. Your Demon Will Save You.

Can’t Help What Can’t Be Controlled.

161 notes · View notes

morningberriesao3 · 7 months

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Dom!King!Steve Harrington X Sub!Eddie Munson

Get High, Go Down: a series of “next time”s

Summary: Steve doesn’t have any money on him, so he offers to pay Eddie some other way.

Word Count: 3.6K

Part: 1 of 4

A/N: this series was one of the first things I posted on ao3, so i want to apologise for any incorrect grammar/awkward delivery. i’ve come a long way since then in my writing (i’m still learning everyday), but this was still received really well 🥹 so as a throwback, she’s joining the realm of tumblr. thank you to anyone who reblogs, comments, likes, messages, or tags me in posts or challenges (even if sometimes I don’t do them ‘cause i’m too nervous lmao). I thrive off interaction so ilu all sm.

Content Warning: this series includes explicit m/m sexual content including oral sex, dom/sub undertones, light S&M, under-negotiated kink, pain play, nipple play, anal play, anal sex, rimming, multiple orgasms, cum & spit play (a lot of wet and messy things), spit kinks, pain kinks, praise kinks, semi-public sex, light feminization, switching, unsafe sex, and impact play. Excessive swearing. Recreational drug use and drinking. All characters are—and always will be—18 or older, whether stated or not. This post is intended for adults ONLY. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

DONE DEAL

Fir Street, Forest Hills trailer park. Trailer number 3401.

Steve sat in his burgundy BMW staring at the flickering lights that danced from inside the trailer’s windows. The familiar rusty van, famously belonging to Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, was parked beside him. Alarmingly unassuming.

He was definitely in the right place.

He nervously maneuvered his body from his vehicle. As far as Steve knew, Eddie didn’t love doing house calls. He mostly conducted business in one of the abandoned bathrooms at Hawkins High, or behind the school in a small clearing of the forest that surrounded it.

But Steve was desperate.

He climbed the metal stairs of the trailer, sure that his weight clanking on the steps already signaled his arrival. He still lifted his fist to the door and knocked three times.

From inside, Steve could hear some shuffling and perhaps what was a grunt from Eddie Munson’s lungs. He tried not to think about how hot his face felt from hearing the simple sound.

Then the door to the trailer swung wide, and there stood Eddie: tall, shirtless, tattooed, and… fuck, pierced? Yes, Pierced. Those were definitely nipple piercings on his pale, bare chest.

Steve felt hotter than before.

“Steve Harrington?” Eddie sung, letting his eyes slowly cascade from the top of Steve’s mass of hair all the way down to his white and red Nikes. Eddie lifted the last of a cigarette to his lips, taking a final long drag, before flicking it past Steve’s shoulder into the gravel outside. His gaze landed on the eyes of the boy in front of him. “To what do I owe this magnificent honour?”

“I…” Steve felt suddenly lost for words. Sure, he was The King of Hawkins High. But nobody, royalty or not, could ever seem bigger than Eddie Munson. He was larger than life. Majorly intimidating. After what seemed like way too long standing on Eddie’s steps (the metalhead watching with a bemused grin the entire time), Steve finally breathed out, “need weed. I came for weed.”

“Mhm…” Eddie crossed his arms and lazily rested his slender form on the doorframe. “And you thought you would bother me on a Thursday night, at –” he looked at the watch on his wrist “– 10:30pm to get said weed, instead of waiting like a good boy until tomorrow?”

Steve’s face felt so hot from Eddie’s words that he thought he might melt into a molten pile of lava right then and there. He was tongue tied, a little embarrassed, and amazingly flustered. All he could do was nod in answer to Eddie’s question.

Eddie let out a sigh – one that would surely win him an Oscar for Most Dramatic (if that was such a thing) – and stepped aside. He flourished his arm in a somewhat inviting gesture for Steve to step into the trailer, but barely left enough room for Steve to push past him. Their chests lightly brushed against each other in the narrow doorway, Eddie refusing to give Steve anything other than the minimum amount of space to move.

Steve felt tight everywhere. His chest, his jaw, his fists. And especially in his jeans. It was unnerving.

“Alright, Harrington,” Eddie started, slamming the front door to the trailer, and pushing his way past Steve into what he could only assume was Eddie’s bedroom. The curly-headed man arrived back at the entranceway not a moment later with a black tin lunchbox firmly in his grasp. He basically threw it onto the countertop of the small kitchenette, which subsequently created a loud clatter that made a skittish Steve jump from his skin. “Half an ounce is thirty. I have half a mind to charge you an after-hours fee, but I’m feeling generous and will spare you. This once.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and hung a plastic bag full of pot from his fingers.

“Uhh…” Steve shuffled from one of his feet to the other, looking between the bag of weed and Eddie Munson’s overly large eyes. Eyes that furrowed at Steve’s reluctance.

“What is it? Want some pre-rolls instead?” Eddie tossed the bud back into the container and lifted a separate baggy with a dozen or so joints perfectly wrapped within it. “Each one is five bucks. Or, for you, five for twenty-five.”

“Five for twenty-five?” Steve scoffed. “That’s not a deal.”

“Exaaaactly.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “So? How many do you want?”

“I… um. I don’t have any money on me.” Steve’s ears were ringing at the admittance. His head felt flooded and hot and muddled.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington!” Eddie tossed the weed back into his lunchbox and slammed the lid closed tight, making a point to shove it far away from Steve like he was no longer even allowed to look at Eddie’s stash. “Why did you come here if you knew you couldn’t afford it, hmm?”

This was it. This was why Steve had been so fucking nervous to come here. He took a breath meant to calm himself, but it didn’t come close to doing its job. “I thought we could… do a trade instead?”

“Pfft!” Eddie huffed, frustrated. “I’m sorry, your royal highness, but I don’t accept trades, or favours, or IOUs, or promises, or anything relating. I accept cash. That’s it. End of story.”

“Are you sure?” Steve stepped forward into Eddie’s personal space and was pleased to see the other man’s round eyes grow impossibly larger. “I feel like I could offer you something that you want, that isn’t cash.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, “and what, exactly, do you think that might be?”

“Come on,” Steve purred seductively, suddenly confident, reaching out to twirl one of Eddie’s curls between his fingertips. “I see how you look at me in the cafeteria. I saw how your eyes lingered in the locker room last week. And how you stare in my direction in algebra.”

“What?! I –” Eddie bit his lip as Steve leaned even closer, the two boy’s faces mere inches apart. His skin flushed a lovely shade of scarlet red from his cheeks down to his chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, man.”

“No?” Steve asked, closing the remaining distance between their bodies so they were flush against each other. He pressed his palm against the firm bulge in the front of Eddie’s jeans and gave it a tight squeeze. The noise Eddie made, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, went straight to his own dick. “Your mouth is telling me one thing, Munson, but your cock has an entirely different story.”

“Look, Steve…” Eddie panted, holding his hand out in front of him in defeat. “I’m sorry. Please don’t… Please don’t say anything to anyone. I just want to fucking survive the school year, man. That’s all.”

Steve tilted his head as he gave Eddie’s cock another firm press with his open palm.

“Ah!” Eddie’s head fell back and he bucked his hips reflexively into Steve’s hand, searching for any type of friction that might be awaiting him. “You can… You don’t have to do this. Just – just bring the money tomorrow. To school. O-or whenever you have it. I’m not picky!”

“Mmm… I don’t think I’ll have any spare cash any time soon,” Steve trailed his free hand down Eddie’s heaving chest until his fingers toyed with the handcuff buckle on his belt. “Plus, I’d rather not have any unpaid debts. You know?”

Eddie nodded, eyes glazed, chest glistening in a layer of sweat from the muggy late-spring air. “Yeah? I mean – yeah. I… get that.”

“I knew you would understand,” Steve whispered lowly into Eddie’s ear, before he flicked his tongue outwards over the lobe. Eddie’s knuckles went white as they clung to the edge of the countertop behind him. Steve pulled the bottom of Eddie’s ear into his mouth and sucked the metal stud that decorated it between his teeth.

Eddie moaned and finally moved one of his hands from his side to fist into the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Oh... Oh, shit, Harrington” he rocked forward into Steve’s palm once again with more fervor than before. Steve’s hand started to unbuckle the leather around Eddie’s waist, but the latter pulled back from the attack of Steve’s lips on his ear. “I’m serious. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Steve. You really don’t”

Steve paused for only a moment to say, “Shut up, Munson,” before lunging forward to envelope Eddie’s plush lips with his own. A startled gasp came from the older boy, but he immediately overcame the shock and wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle, coaxing him to rock his hips into his now splayed legs.

“Fuck… Steve,” Eddie muttered as Steve thrust himself against Eddie. The two layers of denim did nothing to hide how hard either of them were.

Steve’s fingers travelled up Eddie’s torso and found his little pink nipples. He assaulted one with a rather aggressive flick, which cause Eddie to yell, open-mouthed, into the ceiling.

“Sensitive, are we?” Steve asked, rolling Eddie’s silver jewellery between his fingers before pinching the bud of his skin tightly.

Eddie keened, and Steve could feel his chest tremble beneath his fingers.

“Hurts!” Eddie’s voice cracked, his eyes squeezed tightly, causing a tear to escape from the corner of one.

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve asked, concerned he could be taking things too far.

“No! No!” Eddie’s eyes shot open, his own fingers moving over Steve’s, motioning for him to pinch down again. Steve obliged. “Ahh! Feels so good!”

“Mmm, of course you like it rough,” Steve whispered, lowering his head from beside Eddie’s so he could replace the fingers against the metalheads chest with his teeth instead. He bit down onto one of Eddie’s nipples, rolling the silver barbell with his tongue, and then eased off with his teeth to instead suckle at the sensitive skin.

Eddie sounded like he was sobbing above Steve, but his hands were tangled in the younger’s hair, pressing him against his skin. He was panting a string of words over and over, like a broken record: “Fuck yes, Steve, ahh, ow! Fuck, yes, Steve!”

“I think you could come just like this, couldn’t you?” Steve teased as he pulled back, taking in Eddie’s already fucked-out and completely dishevelled appearance. He was so fucking beautiful.

Eddie’s jaw hung open as he nodded in agreeance, his cheeks darkening in embarrassment.

“Well, maybe next time. I have a little more planned for you tonight,” Steve explained, finally undoing Eddie’s belt. He opened the button of his fly and pulled down his zipper. “Since you’ve been so understanding with me.”

Eddie’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull as Steve wrapped his fingers around his freed cock over his boxers. His skin was hot, even under the layer of cotton that separated them. He could feel a damp patch gathering steadily where the tip of Eddie’s length poked under the tent of fabric. He pressed his thumb there, rubbing the slicked cotton and subsequently Eddie’s leaking tip in teasing circles.

“Steve… St –” Eddie groaned unabashedly into the empty air, apparently unaware, or maybe uncaring, that his neighbours could most likely hear him. He was a noisy little thing, Steve noticed, much to his own pleasure.

His own dick was pulsing painfully under the stiff fabric of his Levi’s, the only relief he was getting was from the occasional thrust forward that he allowed himself into Eddie’s hipbone. It wasn’t doing much, but he was so turned on that it was probably more than enough.

Steve dropped down onto his knees with an alarmingly heavy thud – Eddie’s eyes popping out of his skull to look down on the younger boy in front of him. “If you liked my lips on your nipples, wait until you feel them wrapped around your dick,” Steve said smugly, lacing his fingers under the waistband of both Eddie’s boxers and his jeans, and tugging down.

Eddie’s cock sprang free in front of his face, bouncing once to hit against Steve’s nose, before it stood at full attention in front of his face. The trail of hair that led from Eddie’s navel attached to a thick patch of dark-brown curls that framed the top of his cock – thick and veiny with a slight upwards curve. It looked fucking delicious, like a cherry popsicle. Red and glistening and dripping like it was melting on a hot summer’s day.

Steve didn’t waste any time getting a taste.

All at once, he swallowed down Eddie’s cock until he could feel it pressing firmly against the back of his throat. He gagged and sputtered, not yet adjusted to the intrusion, but it didn’t stop him from pulling back and shoving forward again until his nose was buried in the patch of hair near Eddie’s skin. He shook his head back-and-forth, Eddie still firmly seated in his throat, nuzzling his nose in the soft curls. He wished he could breathe him in, but his airways were currently very restricted.

Eddie’s fingers tugged at his hair as he bobbed his head on Eddie’s length, saliva spilling from his gaping mouth, coating his chin and Eddie in a thick layer of wet that pooled and dripped onto the linoleum.

“Shit, shit, shit, aahhh!” Eddie huffed over Steve as his muscles of his thighs twitched under his fingers. “Your mouth – shit – Steve, it feels so good. So good.”

Steve hummed, squeezing where he rested his hands, and then shoved Eddie’s pants down further until they were pooled by his feet – his lower half completely naked. He tore himself away from Eddie and the older boy gyrated forward at the loss of his hot throat. Steve licked a firm, long line under Eddie’s shaft, trailing against one of the puffy, swollen veins that led all the way to his flushed tip. With the flat of his tongue, he lapped at the translucent white that drooled from its slit.

“You taste amazing, baby,” Steve said breathlessly, swallowing down the salty, musky taste of Eddie mixed with his own spit that gathered under his tongue.

“Steve, what are you –” Eddie gasped as Steve shoved his thighs farther apart, spreading him completely open in front of his face. He made eye contact with Eddie as he sucked two of his own fingers into his mouth, slicking them with the slippery mess within it. When he scissored his fingers apart, thin strings of drool connected them together in an obscene display.

As if asking a wordless question, Steve rubbed high on Eddie’s inner thighs – not quite reaching his ass, but the implications were loud and clear.

Eddie nodded, and that’s all Steve needed before he lifted his spit-lubed fingers up to Eddie’s entrance. The ring of muscle contracted under his tentative touch, Eddie mewling pathetically above him. Sobs racked his shoulders forward. Near tears.

No, not near tear. There were definitely already tears.

“Mmm, that’s it, baby. Just relax for me,” Steve cooed as he massaged his middle finger around Eddie’s asshole. Eddie’s cock – still near his face – twitched in neglect, or maybe in anticipation, as a string of precum beaded and fell from its tip. The droplet landed on Steve’s shirt, and he immediately used his free hand to bring the fabric to his mouth so he could lick it off. “Such a messy boy, Eddie. Getting me all wet, covered in my spit and your cum. Who’s gonna clean this mess, hmm?”

A choked laugh erupted from Eddie’s throat, “I think you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself, Harrington.”

“Oh?” Steve abruptly stood to his feet and grabbed Eddie’s jaw. The latter squeaked a noise of shock as his mouth was roughly pried open by Steve – jaw wide and lips spread. “Gonna be a brat, are we? Why don’t you take some of your mess back then?”

With that, Steve spat directly into Eddie’s slacked jaw. A whimper escaped from his pillowy, pink lips as Steve allowed him to close his mouth and swallow the saliva – tainted with the flavour of his own cock – down.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself, as he stared with dazed eyes into Steve’s face. Steve couldn’t help but smile at how cock drunk Eddie looked as he licked at his lips. He hadn’t even swallowed down Steve and he was already a slobbering mess. Steve couldn’t help but wonder what the older boy might look like if he fucked into his mouth instead.

Next time.

He dropped back to his knees and pushed his finger against Eddie’s entrance until it sunk into the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle. Eddie groaned and grunted, and his legs trembled as they struggled to keep him upright as Steve started sinking deeper and deeper into Eddie’s yielding body. Eventually his entire finger was seated inside Eddie’s asshole – he could feel the flutter of Eddie’s walls around him as his body sucked him in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, Eddie,” he moaned, kitten-licking at the tip of Eddie’s straining cock that bobbed and twitched so close to his face. Eddie cried something entirely incoherent as his head fell backwards, smacking against the door of one of the kitchen cabinets. “I want to feel you wrapped around my cock one of these days. Don’t know how I’d ever fit in here though. You’re squeezing the shit out of my finger.”

As if to make his point clear as daylight, he pulled his finger nearly all the way out of Eddie’s body and plunged back in, this time with his ring finger alongside the middle. Eddie wailed, open-mouthed, grabbing at Steve’s hair and tugging. Steve grunted from the pain and his cock throbbed under his jeans. He was ridiculously hard, and it would admittedly not take much to make him come, so he slotted one of Eddie’s legs between his thighs as he knelt on the ground.

He continued to fuck into Eddie with his fingers as he thrust his hips forward into Eddie’s calf, matching the moans of the boy above him. When Steve curled his fingers inside Eddie’s body, he found the bundle of nerves that nearly made Eddie’s legs give out.

“Holy – fuck!” Eddie gasped like a fish out of water above Steve as he stroked his prostate over and over. “Oh! Steve! Whatthefuck?! What – Steve. Ah, ah, ah!”

“Mmm, that’s the good spot, isn’t it, Eddie,” Steve said, smugly. He twisted his finger just right to rub against that sweet spot with an intentional pressure that made Eddie weep above him. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Eddie blubbered atop Steve. His cock twitched aggressively until it was nearly straight up, and then it bobbed back down again against Steve’s cheek. “Oh God, I’m – Oh. Oh. Oh God, I’m so –”

Steve rutted his forgotten dick against Eddie’s calf, so close to his own release from hearing Eddie’s sobbing desperation. Desperation that Steve was bringing to him.

“You’re gonna come, Eddie?” Steve grunted as he pushed himself against Eddie’s leg over and over, continuing to massage those sinful noises out of the boy above him.

“Yes! Yes… gonna come –”

“Then come for me,” he ordered, taking Eddie’s dribbling dick all the way back into his mouth, and swallowing. As his throat contracted around his cock, Eddie thrusted forward. Hot liquid spilled down Steve’s throat in rivers, nearly choking him, but he managed to swallow down Eddie’s cum without a single drop missed.

“Fuck! Steve! Holy sh – Holy shit! So good, so fucking good!” Eddie’s asshole tensed around Steve’s fingers, impossibly tighter than before, as he fucked in and out of him throughout his orgasm.

With one more aggressive rut of his hips, Steve came inside his boxers, slicking them in a sticky heat that helped him slide under the fabric, rocking against Eddie during his aftershocks.

When he pulled his fingers out of Eddie, the man finally collapsed in front of him. He fell to his knees, and then onto his stomach, barely bracing for impact with his arms. He laid face-down, naked, gulping for air, on his kitchen floor. Used. Spent.

Steve was quite proud.

“You alive down there, Munson?” he quipped as he stood to his feet, trying to readjust in his pants as best as he could to get comfortable. It was no use – the cum was spread throughout his boxers and would be irritating until he had the chance to change them.

Eddie grunted a response against the floor but made no move to get up.

“Take what you want, man,” he flailed his arm in the general direction of his drug pail. “Take it all if you want. I don’t care.”

Steve snorted, giving Eddie’s side a nudge with his foot. Eddie managed to lull his head far enough to the side to look up at Steve, who stood with his arms crossed around his chest and a pleased smirk glued to his face.

“I’m gonna head out. It was a pleasure, Eddie. Truly.” He stepped towards the door.

“Wait – dude – your weed. Honestly. Take what you came here for.” Eddie scrambled to his feet, pulling his boxers up over his abused lower half so quickly he nearly tripped.

So fucking endearing.

“I already got what I came here for, Munson.” Steve said, opening the door to the trailer.

“W-what?” Eddie stammered, looking between the jock and his – still full – drug stash.

“See you at school tomorrow!” Steve called as he flung himself back into his BMW. He might have asked to stay longer if he didn’t desperately need a shower and a change of pants.

But as he thought before, there was always next time.

He smiled to himself as he pulled from Eddie’s trailer, watching the shell-shocked man – eyes ballooning and mouth agape – disappear in his rear-view mirror.

NEXT PART

MASTERLIST

SOCIALS

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whimsicallywiddershins · 8 months

Text

Something I enjoy about Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic series is that the children have real, normal flaws, and are never blamed for having them, only gently corrected over time and with experience.

Sandry doesn't have that many, she's very open minded, but has some flaws in her teens. But the other three have flaws and prejudices when they arrive at Winding Circle.

Briar is slightly sexist. He protests at living with girls, and doesn't really believe they are much use in a fight until later. He complains about female stereotypes that don't really apply, such as the girls sticking their noses into his business, talking excessively, or being weepy and emotional.

Daja is xenophobic to anyone who isn't a Trader. She openly calls people a slur, even Sandry in the beginning. It takes some time to accept others not of her people as her family. She still carries that orginal xenophobia a long ways, though.

Tris is very prejudiced, she was raised that way. She is horrified to share a house with a Trader, a noble and a former street rat. Several times in the books she disparaged people she thought as lesser, such as the poor and Traders. In Briar's Book she calls street kids animals, and blames the poor for the pox.

None of these traits are super obvious, and they aren't called out right away. They are also perfectly normal prejudices and problems for children to have, especially those raised by prejudiced adults. The books doesn't encourage you to hate these children for it, nor do the kids change right away. It's a slow process fueled by their teachers and their experiences, as well as each other.

It's really great for children to read the book, recognize some flaws they have, and work through them as the characters do. And it's done mostly subconsciously too. It's a sensitive topic that is very well done.

#fandom #tamora pierce #book reccs #circle of magic #sandrilene fa toren #briar moss #daja kisubo #tris chandler #rosethorn #lark #frostpine #niko #winding circle temple

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eggsdrawings · 2 months

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This might sound stupid, but have you ever considered giving some of the characters in your drawings imperfect teeth? I sorta have headcannons that Mina has a gap between her front teeth and that Denki has a chipped tooth! I also love how you give Bakugou gauged earrings in your art-style in reference to the Fantasy AU and was wondering what types of specific headcannons you have in your art!

Some neat ones I noticed were:

Bakugou with faint moles on his face and neck

Ochako having orange ombre on the longer strands of hair (My personal fav)

Hawks having claw-like fingernails (and painted black too!)

Mirko having piercings on her ear

Todoroki has small strands of the opposite hair colour on the wrong side (Like strands of white on the red side and vise-versa)

Toga having pointed ears! (Another fave)

I probably missed some, but those were just cool details I noticed in your art! <3

Sorry, this was a weird way to give you a compliment lol

ahhh this is so sweet! thank you so much for lookin into the details of my art!!!! 💗💗💗 i have fun makin the characters unique to me!

i’ll include it all under the cut so that this post isn’t too long!

i usually tend to give midoriya a slight gap between his front teeth, tho i suppose i could stand to make it more prominent. i kinda draw it the same way cody from total drama has a gap in his teeth! the most ive done aside from that is give some characters fangs (hawks) or sharper canines (bakugou). i think kaminari having a chipped tooth is actually a cool idea, especially since i had one of my own growing up lol!

aside from what u listed, i like to make mina’s tongue blue solely because it stands out against how pink she is and makes for good contrast

todoroki’s scar has a dripping effect to it since i assume the kettle water poured down his face a bit before his mother could reach him to take care of it

i draw kaminari with freckles because i think it suits him, and ive been thinkin bout giving some light ones to hawks as well

for kirishima i draw three light scars on his face around the bridge of his nose/cheeks, a small reference to his hero costume’s mask placement since i think it would dig into his skin after so much use

i also like to add bakugou’s first war arc scars, as well as explosion marks around his hands from excessive quirk use. and ive been meaning to include scars on his arms to reference the deku vs kacchan fight now that ive gone and rewatched the series!

in canon, touya has very prominent eyelashes when he’s younger, and when he’s older as dabi they’re burned off. but i like to keep them as a slight nudge to who he used to be, even if it doesn’t particularly make sense for them to be there. i just think it’s a nice touch!!

#sorry for ramblinggggg #for accessories i love giving kirishima a slightly rainbow-colored bracelet #as well as him and bakugou having gold bracelets because every krbk speculated that they got matching bracelets after kamino LOL #accessories like Bakugou’s orange necklace is also a reference to the fantasy au and I like to include that sometimes #and kaminari and jirou’s accessories tend to always be in the bi flag colors #and if i draw uraraka and todoroki together i think it’s nice to have a matching cat bracelets between them #i like to give midoriya and kaminari bandaids a lot of the time because i feel like both of them are prone to injury #and momo mina and camie have long nails because i think that it would be in character for them to have that #that’s about all I can think of rn but !!! thank u so much ☺️💗💗#ask box #yalocalfanficaddict

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txemrn · 1 year

Text

Déjà Vu

Chapter 4

New? Check out the first THREE chapters HERE! (Go ahead; we'll be here. 😉)

Series Summary: After an unforgettable night with a stranger, Princess Eleanor finds herself caught in a secret love triangle between a noble and a commoner.

Chapter Summary: Drake heads to Club Core with Leo; he unexpectedly meets a young woman that reminds him of a past life.

Pairing(s): mention of Liam x Riley; Drake x Riley (former)

Word Count: ~4970

Warning: 🔞 Mature Audiences Only 🔞 language (tons; it's Drake); sexual references (crude); mention of excessive drinking; drug-use reference; brief violence

A/N: Welcome to my Crack Fic! If you are new, hi! Thank you for joining us! This story takes place approximately 2 decades after TRR/TRH. I have made some canonical changes (they will be mentioned). Although this is from my crazy mind, it takes a village! Huge thanks to my sweet writing buddies for helping me figure out various parts! Love y'all! Characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry! This was not Beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Drake

What the fuck was I thinking? I hate large crowds and eardrum-piercing music. I hate being around people who can't hold their liquor, not to mention I hate dancing. But even worse, I hate Leonardo Anselm Phineas Rys. Old thorn in my side. What in the actual fuck made me agree to hang out with blondie in the first place? At a club? On opening night?

Because you're lonely, and he offered free booze…

My twisted expression relaxes as I shrug my shoulders. Meh. I guess it could be worse.

"Okay, baby… I'll be home later… yes… I'll tell Liam you said, 'hello'..." Leo gives an obnoxious kissing sound before disconnecting his call with the touch of a button. He lets out a sigh, taking a hit of his vape pen. "Dahlia," he answers to the question I never asked. He glances at me, sucking in his bottom lip before giving me a slow flutter of a wink. "She's a bit clingy."

I nod, drumming my fingers against the leather interior, playing it cool like I care. "Is… she your–?"

"Friend."

Ah. Okay. 'Friend.' The term just glides off of his tongue. Nonchalant. Sweet and syrupy, almost as if he believes the bullshit he's feeding this poor girl that's waiting at home for him.

And she thinks what now? That he's coming over after an evening with his brother's family which, no doubt, she has never met. And judging by that brief interaction with goldie locks here, she doesn’t seem to have the intellectual capacity to wonder why she wasn't invited to the dinner in the first place.

Side-piece. Booty-call. Friend. It's all just semantics to douchebags like Leo Rys.

I fidget with the navy collar to the button-down shirt Leo loaned me. I could barely fit my broad shoulders into the lean cut of his tailored threads. The guy has a rock hard physique, but tough, manual labor creates a different kind of body. A strong one. Like mine.

The buttons pull slightly across my chest as I flash a glance in the car visor mirror. I look like a fucking tool. I'm not used to my stubble brushing up against starched cotton; I'm usually wearing a tee, my work denim and my steel-toes. I mean, unless I'm meeting with a client or going out to dinner where you have a waiter and utensils. But, other than that, I am a fish out of water: this shirt is uncomfortable. And I have a feeling this is just a prelude of what's to come.

At least Leo approved of my jeans and Tecovas. He tried throwing my trusty chambray shirt in the trash. "No one has worn this for at least twenty years… and they weren't even wearing it then."

Fuck off.

We pull up to this club, and I swear everyone in Cordonia has turned out for this spectacle. The moment Rys steps out of his 'I didn't want anything too flashy' red Ferrari, the paps were on him like white on rice. Flashes of light rain from every direction as reporters flood him with curious questions about his Gucci loafers and gray Brioni blazer.

Lucky for me, I'm a nobody, and the press quickly discovers that the moment I step out onto the red carpet. Dropping their cameras and microphones in disappointment, they instantly turn their attention elsewhere. I don't know if I should be grateful… or offended, to be honest. At least confuse me for Leo's new lover… bunch of dickwads.

I push past the commotion, combing my hair out of my eyes as I look around the red carpet. This place is pretty snazzy, but holy fuck, they didn't spare with any expenses. It’s like a fucking fortress: a tall, wrought iron fence encased with stone surrounds the perimeter. Armed security in black tie a la James Bond swarm the space.

Now, the entrance? This wasn't just any ol’ red carpet; oh, fuck no, that wouldn't do for such a prestigious guest list. Contortionists and acrobats on pedestals perform sultry poses and maneuvers, leaving the crowd bewildered and amazed.

Scantily clad women tend to the average Joe commoners waiting in line. They serve hors d'oeuvres and complimentary spirits, fooling them into thinking they're still important even though they're on the outskirts of the main event, and truth be told: they'll never get in.

Taking it all in, I suddenly feel a massive clap against my back before an arm hugs tightly around my neck.

"Ready, Walker?" Leo pops his gum in between his smarmy grin. "Let's get our dicks wet."

—

Fucking. A. I'm pretty sure I just entered the third level of hell.

"Hey-yo, Walker!"

Make that the fourth level…

I glance back at Rys who is now flocked with an entourage of, and I quote, ‘aspiring models,’ all with their fake tits falling out of their tops, their overly-injected blow-job lips, and lashes so thick, you can't tell if they're sleeping or having a stroke. He flashes those pearly whites as he dangles a small, gram-size plastic bag of white powder.

Now, I'm not against tokin' up or getting obliterated with alcohol, but cocaine isn't my style… not to mention, if we got caught–no doubt, Leo knows people that could bail us out, but if Liam and Riley were to hear about this? They'd kick me to the curb in an instant, especially with their kid around. They’d label me as a bad influence, and Liam would give me that fatherly disappointment glare.

"What do you think, Walker?" Leo nods with eager anticipation. "Wanna join… all of us?" He lets out a knowing laugh, winking at the women around him. They take his cue and begin to giggle, as if he was the funniest, most charming man they've ever met.

And my IQ just dropped two points.

"I think… I'm going to… " I notice a large bar area, quickly throwing a hitched thumb back at it. "...I'll check out the bar,"

"Suit yourself." The women practically swallow him whole with their arms. "Don't forget: give 'em my name. Drinks on me!"

The drove of venereal diseases buzzes off with their king, and a sense of relief washes over me. Would I rather be at home? Absolutely, but since I'm already here…

I make my way toward the crowded bar area, ducking between drunken cat fights and groping couples. Finding a stool, I plant my ass down, and despite how busy it is, the bartender tends to me quickly–probably because I'm a 45- year-old man alone in a club. Translation: I have money, I know what I want, and chances are, what I order doesn't require my rim being bedazzled with seasonings, flowers, or fruit.

"What can I get ya?"

Oh, shit, I haven't heard that distinct nasally Portavira accent in so long. My God…

"Um… Larceny. Neat."

"Double?"

My man… I nod as I watch him pull out the bottle and a clean tumbler.

"Do you have a tab started, sir?"

I reach for my wallet, but I abruptly stop, remembering Leo's words. 'Give 'em my name. Drinks on me!'

"I do. It's under Rys," I smirk, "and actually, do you have Macallan?"

The bartender stops, giving me a glance over when finally a Cheshire grin creeps across his face as if he just struck oil. "We sure do, Mr. Rys." He extends his hand to fist bump me before reaching to the top shelf for a new bottle of the liquid gold. Before I knew it, he's twirling the tumbler across the bar. "Enjoy, Mr. Rys."

Taking a sip, I give him a wink as a thank you as I bask in the much needed woodsy burn of clove on my tongue. Damn, that's tasty.

Feeling more relaxed, I glance out onto the dance floor as other club-goers get lost in the hypnotic buzz of the ethanol electrifying their veins. The tantric beat of the music and the flashing swirl of multicolored lights feeds the adrenaline and raging hormones as people grab and grope one another.

I am way too old for this scene.

I grab my glass to take another pull when out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face at the bar. Turning my head to get a better look, I suddenly swallow my whiskey down the wrong pipe, causing me to fall into a fit of coughs. Smooth, Walker, real smooth.

Blinking back the tears, I sniff into a napkin before looking back at the beautiful face. Shit. She's absolutely…wow. Gorgeous dark, silky waves, porcelain skin, that pouty mouth with those big, doe eyes… She's the spitting image of… Riley.

"Fuck," I growl at myself before rubbing the shit out of my eyes. No way, it can't be. I look up again, and instantly I can feel my jeans begin to tighten.

You're just wanting to see her. You're just wanting it to be her, especially with what happened back at the palace.

I down the rest of my drink before allowing my attention to be completely saturated by this girl.

It's not Riley. It's not…

See? Her nose appears more prominent from the side, and-and her neck. Her neck seems longer, slender. And her eyes. They're gorgeous and big… they aren't Riley's navy blues, but damn, that sparkle–

"Would you like another–?"

"Please," I grumble as I stare at this Riley look-alike. I just… can't tear my eyes away. Her presence feels so real, so intimate. Now, judging from this woman's creamy, velvet skin, she's young. Maybe early 20s. Way out of my league… but still that face. It's like looking into a past life, a life I once loved.

—

(Two decades ago…)

"Brooks," Drake whispers loudly, "come on!"

"Shhhh!" Riley presses a finger to her lips, stifling her giggles as she looks down from her palace window. "Are you trying to wake everyone up? You're going to get me into trouble."

"You are trouble, lady."

Riley looks back at the commoner, the glint of mischief in his eyes making her adrenaline pump faster through her veins. "Now are you sure about this?" She bites her lip, "you'll catch me if–"

"For the hundredth time, yes," Drake rolls his eyes, holding his arms out wide.

Since Drake's confession to Riley at Applewood, the two of them have been enjoying each other's company, especially after hours. They flirt with danger, sharing in kisses that they swear will never happen again for obvious reasons: she is there to pursue Liam and his hand in marriage; Drake is his best friend.

After watching Liam share a kiss with Riley, a dam of excruciating jealousy broke in Drake's heart. He already shared with Riley before that he was developing feelings for her, but now, it was… something else. Something more.

During dinner, the commoner passed her a note, asking her to meet him outside her window after midnight because they needed to talk.

Riley is staying in the guest quarters off the West Wing with the other suitors. She's only on the second floor, but still, a jump from that high could be dangerous. So, Drake helped the brunette construct a climbing rope with her top sheet.

"I've got ya. Just… ease yourself over."

Riley takes one step at a time, following Drake's directions; but when she gets close to the ground, she looks back at Drake, raising an eyebrow, then jumps.

"Whoa!" Drake stumbles as Riley crashes into his chest, his arms quickly cradling her close. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Riley giggles, combing her fingers through Drake's thick hair. "Sometimes a girl just wants to be caught."

Their eyes lock on one another, Drake's hand finding her cheek. He gently rubs his thumb across her soft skin, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into his touch.

"Come with me," he whispers softly while grabbing her hand.

"Wait… I thought we were going to talk–"

"I want to show you something." Riley gives him a curious glare. "It's a surprise," he smirks, pulling her to follow him.

They walk silently, hand-in-hand across the grounds, playfully gazing back-and-forth at one another–that is, until all a sudden a bright flashlight skims over where they are walking.

"Who goes there?" A palace guard bellows.

"Brooks, take off your flip-flops," Drake commands under his breath, watching the guard in the distance.

"What? Why?"

"Just trust me," he squeezes her fingers.

Riley quickly kicks them off, holding them in her hands. "Okay… now what?"

Drake grabs her hand again, his grip tight. "Run!" Giving her a warning tug, they both take off across the wet lawn, Riley following Drake's lead.

"Where… are we… going?" She pants, laughter bubbling from her chest.

"You'll see," Drake chuckles, "but we have to lose Barney Fife first!"

Dodging the glow of the searching lights, Drake and Riley finally make it to a large wall of greenery. Finding an entry, they pass through the walkway and hide behind the vines and leaves.

Drake looks to see if they finally lost the guards, but Riley takes a moment to look around the thicket they just entered.

"Whoa," her eyes widen as she looks at the well-manicured covert. "Where… where are we?"

"It's… a maze. A hedge maze that we used to play in as kids."

"Are you serious?" She meanders down a corridor, looking around a corner. "It's so dark. Did you ever get lost?"

Drake chuckles, reaching into his pocket. "Plenty of times." He saunters closer to Riley, pulling out a flashlight and handing it to her. The air crackles around them as the charm of the blue moon ignites the twinkle in their eyes. Drake lowers his voice into a deep gravel. "Come get lost with me, Riley Brooks."

With that, he smiles and takes off jogging, Riley staying close behind. "Hey, not so fast Drake." She turns a corner and notices his denim shirt discarded on the grass. "You lost your shirt."

"Did I now?" He snickers. "Can you bring it to me?"

Riley scoffs into a giggle as she continues through the maze at the sound of his voice. "Maybe if you'd stop running away–"

"Maybe if you weren't so slow–"

"Hey!" Riley chides, "I just jumped out of a window–" she falls silent as finds Drake's belt tossed on the ground. She collects it in her hand, biting her bottom lip. "Drake?"

"You're getting warm," he teases. Riley stumbles through another corner, turning left, then right. The sounds of her toes in the grass compliment her heavy breathing as she stops again to the cooing of his voice. "Warmer, Brooks."

She continues until suddenly, she notices a warm glow just up ahead. Her steps quicken until finally she reaches a small clearing in the maze that opens to a stunning backdrop of the star-filled sky. Gas-lit sconces illuminate the garden, revealing tapestries of vines and flowers fixed to wooden lattice work amongst the bushes.

"Wow," Riley gasps, her eyes glowing with the wonder all around her. "This is beautiful." She feels Drake's warm touch on her hand, their fingers lacing together.

"Cmon," he tugs on her, "I want to show you something."

"There's more?" She giggles, following his lead. They walk a short, pebbled path until they are standing in front of a large gray-stoned well. Riley presses her fingertips to the cold marbled edges before looking down into the dark abyss. Her eyes shift to Drake, "Is this where you murder me?" He chuckles, shaking his head as she turns back to the well opening. "Hello!" She shouts, the echoes welcoming each other back and forth.

"I'll be honest, Brooks." Riley looks back at Drake. "I'm kinda shocked Liam hasn't already brought you here. It's one of his favorite places to show off in the entire estate."

"Oh," Riley's eyebrows knit together with a pained expression.

"Hey," Drake nudges her playfully. "What's with the long face?"

Riley snickers into a scoff before finally succumbing to tears. "I'm just exhausted," she pulls her hands to her face.

"Brooks," he pulls her into his comforting arms.

"This social season bullshit is just … it's really screwing with my head," she sniffles. "I've never been more insecure in all my life, and what for?" She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, clearing her throat. "I wish I knew where I stood. I wish the competition was over. I wish–"

Drake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a couple of worn copper coins. He offers them to a confused Riley.

"Pennies?" She sniffles.

"Yeah," he chuckles, "I forgot to get rid of them when we were in New York. They're worthless here. No conversion."

Riley's lips begin to curl. "Then why keep them?"

Drake starts inspecting the coins in his hand, allowing them to softly clang together in his palm. "I read a book once–"

"--picture books don't count as reading."

"Ha. Ha." He smirks, feigning annoyance as he starts to jingle the coins in his hand. "I read that in ancient civilizations, finding random metals was a sign or a blessing from the gods."

"You see them everywhere back home. The streets, sidewalks," she snickers, "a whole cent. How generous of the gods."

"What? A penny isn't enough for you?" Drake playfully growls, slowly leaning closer to Riley. She coyly bats her lashes, a soft titter in her throat. "Here." He puts a coin in her hand.

"What's this for?" Riley studies the trinket.

"For something bigger, citizens would offer the metal back to the gods, like a payment. So they would say a silent prayer, then toss it–"

"--into a well," Riley softly finishes.

Drake nods over his shoulder to the stoned well. "Let's make your wishes count."

One by one, Drake and Riley silently take pennies, casting them into the well with unspoken hopes and dreams until every last coin was gone. Feeling his close proximity, Riley stares up into his dark eyes, getting lost into a charming stillness.

"What did you wish for?" She whispers.

Drake slowly shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He offers a crooked grin. Combing his fingers into Riley's dark, espresso waves, his hand gently grips the back of her neck, pulling her closer. "All my wishes have already come true, Brooks." He closes the space between them, their lips grazing one another. The feather-light touch instantly ignites a hunger, one they both feel and crave. Drake pulls back, chuckling under his breath as he fidgets with the hem of Riley's shirt. "So... why didn't you take off any clothes?"

Riley bites her bottom lip. "Maybe... because... I wanted my wish to come true." She pauses, her fingers tucking into the front pocket of Drake's jeans, pulling his hips flush against hers.

He swallows thickly. "Which is?"

"Take them off for me, Walker."

—

(Present)

Damnit. I adjust myself in my jeans, but my cock always hardens at the memory of Riley and me that night. We fucked. A lot. But that night, our first night together, it was more than just sex. We made love.

I take a swig of my new drink that the bartender must've dropped off while I was taking a stroll down the boulevard of broken dreams when my eyes dart to my Riley look-alike.

And I feel my dick shrink.

She's with someone, some blond tool, probably named Chad, with a tool haircut that shops at Tools-R-Us with a matching trust fund.

I sigh to myself, polishing the rest of my drink before staring at my empty glass.

He is pretty hot; I don't blame her.

I glance at them one more time, kissing my own dirty fantasy away when I notice something odd. His hand is sternly gripped around her wrist, staring at her like she's his next meal.

But her face tells a different story. She seems to be struggling, trying to tear her arm away from him. Those big, doe eyes are panicked, large as table saucers as she frantically looks for help.

I sigh. Goddamnit...

I wipe a napkin across my mouth as I stand, my glare fixed on this commotion transpiring before me. I shrug my shoulders, loosening the tight fabric off my back as I stretch my muscles. Just in case.

I hurry my way through the dense crowd of patrons gathered around the bar. I flex my fingers, bending my wrist as I get closer.

Ah, shit. This is the part I'm bad at. What do I say first? 'Stop that!' No, that's lame. I need something clever, like maybe, 'Is there a problem here?' How about–

My clenched fist meets his jaw, knocking the asshole in one swing into a bartop table before he crashes down onto the floor. He's so disoriented; he's trying to get up, but he keeps slipping on shards of glass, falling back into the pathetic rumple he calls his life.

Fuck. My hand. I know it will hurt like a bitch in a few minutes when my body depletes of adrenaline, but for right now, I'm basking in the moment.

A smirk grows on my mouth, but it doesn't last for long. The young woman. I turn to the Riley look-alike, her terrified stare already fixed on me. Instinctively, I carefully put my hand on her shoulder. She's shaking.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you alright?"

Ho.ly. Fuuuuuuck.

Brooks? Seeing her up close is almost painful; I can feel my balls beginning to ache. This woman is hauntingly stunning: the subtle freckles on her nose, the curve of the bow to her top lip, even the flounce of her long, flirty eyelashes. She's beautiful; she's… like somebody I used to know…

The young woman shyly nods, but she's trembling. She's clearly not alright.

And I suddenly possess this overwhelming need to take her in my arms, hold her tight and let her know she's safe.

Calm down, Walker.

"Let's get you away from this." I look up, noticing an open lounge-type area near the dance floor with large, plush couches. Offering my arm, she holds on tightly as we escape through the debris of the nightmare that just happened. Placing a reassuring hand on her back, I encourage her to sit.

I, on the other hand, keep an eye on douche canoe who is being helped up by security and his friends. But, I don't think he'll be a problem for us anymore tonight. He never got a good look at me, and even if he had, something tells me his ego would keep him away from telling the truth of who made him taste his own blood.

Turning towards the young woman, I notice she is anxiously looking around, her body on edge. I tilt myself to her ear, shouting over the blaring music, "Are you here with anyone?"

She nods, "B-but it's okay," she yells back, waving her hands. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

She fakes a smile, and my God, it knocks me back. Stunning.

Focus on her words, Walker...

"I don't exactly want to…"

I don't quite understand the rest of her statement, her words lost in the heavy beat of the music. I give her an inquisitive look, causing her to careen towards my ear, her hand brushing across my shoulder.

And my cock twitches. Breathe, buddy…

"I said… I don't want to interrupt their fun." She motions aimlessly to the dance floor. Got it.

"Can I call someone for you? Family perhaps?"

Her eyes widen. "What? No, no."

She grins, but it's clearly hiding her true feelings. Which is fine. I'm a complete stranger. Shit, she probably thinks I'm some creepy old man, hitting on her at the bar. And sure, maybe on a night where she wasn't assaulted, maybe I would've bought her a drink, asked for her number.

But the fact of the matter is this: I really don't feel comfortable leaving this girl alone. She just got into a physical altercation with… whoever that guy was. Her boyfriend? Oh shit, husband? I look at her hand; I don't see a ring, but that doesn't mean anything. You never know these days. Still, she doesn't need to be by herself right now. She really doesn't need to be here, but again, who am I but another creep at the bar.

I run my fingers through my hair. Oh, what the hell. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

A hint of fear crosses her expression as she looks me over.

I hold up my hands in defense before leaning over her shoulder. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone in a place like this," I shout, "especially with what happened with your boyfriend."

She takes a deep breath. She flashes those big, brown eyes at me before finally nodding in agreement.

And my heart melts.

I offer my hand. "Drake."

The corners of her lips curl as she takes my hand, leaning towards my ear. "Jake?" She yells.

I shake my head, facing her ear more directly. "Drake!" I holler over the deep thrumming of the bass.

She raises an eyebrow. "Jake?"

Eh, close enough. I smile in agreement.

"I'm Nora," she smiles, already more relaxed.

"Nora?" I repeat, ensuring I heard her correctly. At least one of us should be called by our real names this evening.

She nods innocently, a beautiful rosy pink painting her cheeks. "Oh, and, um… he's not my boyfriend." A piece of her hair falls like liquid silk into her eyes as she looks down at her lap. She quickly shoos the wisp away, chasing it behind her ear before looking back at me, trying to figure out my angle. Am I here to hurt her? Flirt with her? Invite her home for a messy, drunken fuck?

Don't worry, sweetie, you're safe with me.

"American?"

She catches me off guard with that one. "Uh, yeah. How did you–?"

She points to her mouth, her lips perfectly rounded and plump, painted a deep crimson. Oh, duh. My watered-down accent. Toto, we're not in Texas anymore. It's hard to believe that at one point in my life, I actually sounded like these people. Every once in a while, the Cordonian beast pounces, but these days, I sound like the typical American mutt.

"Are you on vacation?" Nora asks.

I smirk, shaking my head. "I… moved here for work."

"To Cordonia?" She snickers. "Of all places?"

"Fair," I chuckle under my breath as I feel the heat rise up my neck. "I… grew up here, so I have… connections, friends and family. It makes for an easy transition. How about you?"

Her eyes brighten, like a pageant contestant being asked about world peace. "Cordonian. Born and raised."

"That's unfortunate," I joke. Sorta.

"Hey," she giggles, scrunching up her nose playfully. She swats the back of her hand against my shoulder. The touch sends a shockwave of familiarity, robbing me of my breath. "I love Cordonia–"

"Spoken like a true Cordonian."

"And… what's wrong with that?"

Drake guffaws. "What isn't wrong with that?"

"Your tone is suggesting that there's something wrong with having pride in your country–"

"It's egotistical–"

"The only thing egotistical is thinking that your opinion about Cordonia is the only opinion to be had." She furrows her brows. "If you hate it so much, why did you come back?"

Shit. She's feisty. And this conversation has gone completely off the rails. I can't tell if she's really pissed… or if I'm just really turned on and wanting a sparring match.

Fuck. You just had to be a jackass…

"Okay, truth?" I offer, even though I'm sure she wants to toss a drink in my face at this point.

She turns to face me, tucking her leg underneath her. "Please."

"I had a rough time fitting in here. Except for my best friend. He's–" I grin thinking about Liam and I, growing up together, how perfect and inseparable we were. "--as Cordonian as you can get. Well, except… I mean, his mom… nevermind," I shake my head. "He's the nicest person I've ever met in my life. I needed some help after a bad business deal, and… he was there and… now I'm here."

"Huh." She sits back, crossing her arms as she takes me in. She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling. She's clearly unsure of me, and I don't blame her.

"Drinks?" A cocktail waitress dressed in a skimpy, leather skirt interrupts us.

Rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I turn to Nora. I have a feeling that this might be the end of the night for us, especially if I don't offer her a cocktail.

I stare at the sparkling flecks of bronze in her eyes. There's something about this girl, more than just the memories she stirs up in me. I can't explain it… shit, then again, maybe I'm fooling myself, wanting something to be there that never was. Still… I clear my throat… you never know unless you try.

"Would… you like one? A drink?"

She narrows her eyes in thought… and fucking hell, she's so goddamn beautiful. Like Riley incarnate. The mannerisms, some of her expressions. Watching her literally robs me of speech and air, and I am dying to spend more time with her. Hell, who knows where the night will take us.

I really hope she agrees to this drink. I can tell I haven't exactly won her over in the past twenty minutes, but if she would just agree to one more drink, just a few more minutes with me, maybe history could repeat itself. Maybe I could experience the woman of my dreams in a different way. Now, I could never tell Nora this; she could never find out. I mean, I am attracted to her, it's just…

"Sure," Nora interrupts my thoughts, her lips curling. "I'll take a drink."

~🖤~

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