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#usually it's just into whatever unfortunate friend's chat

windlion · 2 years

Text

Malevolent screamalong, part 6! Eps 18-19

When last we left off, we had done something . . . wild. Something momentous. Something . . . nigh unnatural.

They went up a chute.

Into . . . fuck if we know what.

"We need to be CLOSE and TRUTHFUL!"

(See also: ways to ensure that is not what is going to happen)

And then there's THIS homewrecker

Hrrmmmmm.

Well that escalated quickly.

"You were just the first one dumb enough to read when I asked"

So he DID ask, and Arthur opened the door

Uhh. Uhhhhh.

John. Buddy. You sounding a little Dark Sider over there.

Do y'all really need to drama llama this much all the time???

Is this supposed to be some side-effect of nightmare land or possession?

Oh our homewrecker is a ghost

A sanity restore potion!

If it says someone's out to get you, someone is in fact probably out to get you.

Run, boy, run!

Yeah, John, you really should stop negging Arthur, it's a bad habit.

Frank all "C'mon depressed boy, keep going."

Oh, hey, Arthur, making your own decision!

And then you gotta disappoint me straightaway

Is it just me or is "You want me to give up" the exact opposite vibe from what was happening? They want him to dance to their own tunes, not self-destruct and leave them with nothing.

Arthur, get some sleep or get your shit together.

Yeah that's not a good sign

And not a great sound, either!

This is going swimmingly

There’s probably rewatch value when you know which side is actually lying but not a huge fan of this blatant manipulation. There doesn’t NEED to be conflict and tension every single second. I really kind of want to know if this is a deliberate choice for an effect or just weak writing.

John, you are a classic abuser in this relationship and you need to work on that.

Or this is just Arthur's mind vs himself, which is . . . probably also accurate

Ah, you are in a depression slump

"There is always time for God" *squints* Is this a father or a Father?

"You're going to Hell either way" is NOT a super motivating pep talk, fuck you too, buddy

"Daniel" so not father with a small f, anyways

Welcome to ~~the whirlpool~~

Also known as trauma.

We've got to the "GET OUT, GET OUT" stage, that's . . . good?

Okay so now we get to the trauma processing. Yay?

Do kinda wonder what this bit looked like from John's side of the fence, if he isn't getting a front row seat to the crazy hallucination times, if he's just had Arthur suddenly freeze on him somewhere and stop responding while Shit Descended

Onwards!

Oh hey we've finally got a time skip, 85 days!

"Mr. Faust" XD i just . . . want to imagine that as the item name in inventory

This sounds like very inefficient use of water

I see the time hasn't bonded you much further

"That was one time!" XD

So the progress is that they have established arguments???

*chanting* Go Arthur, Go Arthur, Go Arthur, go, go!

If my life depended on my ability to do one, singular pull up, then . . . I am both deceased and shamed.

Can you spare a sip for a parched soul?

SOMEONE DECENT doing DECENT THINGS, amazing!

jfc you really need those as breaths of fresh air in these things

So a kanna (however you spell that) is possibly a frog-person or possibly a job title. I kinda like the latter myself

Fare thee well, Loric, you progressed the plot and planted a Chekhov rifle

"I can't remember the last time I felt things"

John, you do realize you are riding along a guy who has massively untreated major depression?

"You know I can offer more" . . . Uh. John?

Arthur, have you been bullying the eldritch demon

"No, no I'm not."

You know what that is, that's ~growth~ gif

"Don't PET it, Arthur!" The disgusted sigh XD

Dream truffle pig! XD XD XD

Lily! <3

Oh, Arthur did want to free it, thank god - the "leave it alone" bit worried me

You guys . . . might be making progress?

Three decent things in a row, I feel like we're getting the medpack and save point before the boss battle

"Would you like a waxy vegetable?" XD

Boarpuff! <3 <3 <3

Arthur please don't piss off the ent again

Oh, he was exaggerating for haggling *sets down large rock*

Plot! Significant! Object!!!

Arthur, dude, your guilt is going to kill you quite literally

John all ". . . . . . fuck. Fine."

The next episode title is “The King” so I am going to take a wild guess that’s indeed a boss battle imminent, so that’s all for now. I do kinda wish they'd dig more into how John feels incomplete, have other demon-things treat him as a non-entity. Don't just make them argue, make me FEEL it!

Maybe it's just me being cold and analytical, but I'm not getting the emotional gut punches? Maybe there's more room for emotional attachment in the long form game instead of this condensed highlight reel.

(What does it say about me as a person that I'm like, "The problem with this is that it doesn't hurt enough.")

#wind is a ridiculous creature #screamalong #Malevolent podcast #I tend to inhale media in one fell swoop #I'm not sure if writing out my screaming is making me stop and think more #but I am sorta enjoying throwing this out into the void!#usually it's just into whatever unfortunate friend's chat #fun fact I glanced at the fandom for this and I had NO idea Arthur's daughter's name was spelled Faroe #I was going with Thoreau and all *You certainly made a choice there*

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nisuna · 6 months

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Are my reoccurring kinks becoming more and more evident hmmm I wonder

But anyway, let's just say I finally got inspired over the weekend 🤫😉

<3masterlist<3

Strictly 18+ MDNI

TW: stepcest, doggy, bj, camgirl!reader x yuji, different positions; use of good girl, nii-chan, whore once; creampie, consensual filming, sex tape, sex stream, mentions of ass fucking, spanking, yuji's an ass man through and through, he's crazy strong as always<3

You never got along with your parents, but you liked your brother very much, he was always there for you so you missed him a lot when he moved out and just tried to survive day by day, but as soon as you turned 18 you packed your bags and moved in with him.

He was a bit confused when he first saw you at his doorstep but he understood. Things are hard at home. So you've been living together for a few years now and everything was going well. You could even hide your little secret from him this whole time. You always made sure that he wasn't at home before you started your stream. Until you didn't one day. You swore he told you that he'll be gone for the night, probably at some friend's party you didn't really pay attention. You even went down to see him off and told him to have fun.

"You guys wanna see my brother fuck me? Oh god he always fucks me so good I wish you guys could see that!", you sighed and continued "You should see his arms, god I bet he could fuck me while standing. And his fingers are so thick and long he can reach much deeper, better than my tiny ones." you splayed your fingers out while you took a sip of your drink. Immediately a couple donations came in either begging or saying ME NEXT.

You chuckled to yourself, "Alright alright, I'll try to ask him, but he's very camera shy guys I'm sorry.", you pouted at the camera. As you proceeded to chat and pick out some toys for today you unfortunately failed to notice the door opening and your brother lean against the door frame

"You fucking minx", he thought to himself. When he first heard his friends talk about a new hot camgirl they found he didn't pay much attention. But when they eventually got him to look his jaw dropped as he quickly snatched the laptop from his friends.

"Eeyy not fair we saw her first!", they protested, but Yuji was having none of it. That's definitely you and that's defintely your room in HIS house. So that's why you always want him out of the house especially on weekends. Is that the reason you wanted to move in with him so quickly, to slut yourself out? What happened to his sweet little sister, maybe he shouldn't have moved out so soon. He felt guilty for leaving you alone he, felt like wasn't a good enough brother for you to resort to something like that-

"Aww I wish you guys could see my my brother he's soo big it just doesn't feel the same without him", you whined while drilling yourself with a dildo. You have got to be shitting me.

"Yeah she talks about him all the time I wonder what he looks like. Chat always goes crazy whenever she mentions him."

Yuji thanked the heavens that they haven't met you yet. God have you mentioned his name before please no.

"Want me to moan his name? Guuyyss he's shy, but because of all of those donations I'll make an exception this once." you winked and went on with your little show, "Yeah you're so good oh god Yu-", nope not doing that, he thought while he slammed the laptop shut.

"HEY party pooper she was about to say his name and be careful that shit was expensive."

"Yeah sorry."

So that's when he set up his plan to catch you in the act. He pretended to leave like usual, but as soon as he heard you run up the stairs he snuck back in and got ready to pounce.

"Y-yuji what are you doing here", you choked as you tried to cover yourself with whatever was laying around.

"Me? You're asking me what I'm doing in MY house?"

"No.. I mean aren't you supposed to be at that party..", you trailed off.

"You wish huh.", he sighed, walking in and closing the door behind him.

You didn't know what to do with yourself as you felt him get closer to you. As soon as you reached out to turn off the camera he stopped you.

"What are you-"

"Don't play coy now, lets go do what we alway do right?"

You were dumbfounded. Huh.

"Cmon, put that mouth to good use."

So that's how you ended up here with your step-brothers cock down your throat while he was filming your face. He had an iron grop on your hair, almost suffocating you with the way he was moving. He was not only bulky and buff body wise but his cock definitely wasn't lacking.

yn's footstool: how do we even stand a chance if he looks like that and he's your standard?? no womder you always talk about him

yn's cumdump: whoa that's better than when she's sucking the dildo

yn's doormat: cumshot cumshot cumshot cumshot bukake

feetluvr77: whoa i can see it in her throat

"C'mon put on a show they are loving it. This is what you've always wanted to do right?", he pulled you off his dick making you cough and suck in a deep breath. Oh you felt so fucked out already, eye make-up smeared and he hasn't even started yet.

"Cmon lay down, 'm gonna fuck you like you always tell them I do." As soon as you laid down on your back he pulled you close and pushed right in without a warning. Your eyes shot open as you tried to muffle a moan.

"Oh that was a good shot, keep it up."

You were so so embarrassed but all of that faded when he started to move, making your eyes roll back and tongue loll out. You always knew he was big, seeing him without a shirt around the house was nothing new but seeing him right now while he was drilling his cock into you it just hit different.

"Yn?"

"Hmm?", you mewled through teary eyes.

"Play with yourself, don't just lay there this is work afterall right?"

You groaned but still reached over to roll your hardened nipples between your fingers and looking directly into the camera.

"That's it, that's a good girl.", he praised while squeezing your thigh and keeping a steady rhythm. "God I can see myself in your tummy, you're so tiny."

Donations were through the roof right now, flooding your ears with requests and remarks.

"Oh, someone said do a peace sign!"

Definitely not-

"Don't be like that, give the people what they want." and with a particularly hard thrust he had you throwing your head back while reluctantly holding up two of your fingers.

"Now smiiileee for the camera. Good girl~"

Oh this was so embarrassing, but it was starting to get you off so you played along. His rhythm faltered for a bit before pulling out and turning you over to your stomach with one arm. He really was strong you always forgot.

"Now, on all fours gotta give them a view of that perfect ass.", you obeyed, turning around and giving the audience the deepest arch you could manage.

"Oh yeah thats it"

After zooming right in to where you two were connected, he went to town. There was already a white ring frothing at his base. God how has he never noticed your ass before, that thing's huge and in this position your waist to hip ration looked ridiculous. His huge hand just looked perfect when spreading and spanking your cheeks. Careful or he'll cum in a few strokes.

He felt like you were reaching your limit, so he pushed even further.

"Fucking whore wants to get railed by her brother. You should've just told me you wanted me to fuck you. You didn't have to lie to your audience, I would have fucked good everyday if you said so sooner.", between his words he spanked your reddening asscheeks and god you were getting close. What you didn't expect though, was for him to spit on your ass and massage it over your puckering rim.

"Stay tuned for next stream, I'll fuck her ass."

"Nooo~", you whined reaching back only for him to grab your arm and force it against your back.

"Don't lie to me, we all know you want everything stuffed don't we, guys?"

Yn's cumsock: Hell yeah!

Feetluvr77: "Make her call you nii-chan or some shit"

You tried to muffle your sobs in the pillow below you, but Yuji had other plans. Before you could react he pulled your back flush against his hard chest kissing and licking down the expanse of your neck while flipping the camera and getting a nice view of your smeared fucked out face.

"For old time's sake tell your nii-chan how good he's making you feel, what do you say? If you do you're allowed to cum, alright?"

He felt you hesitate in his hold.

"Hey what's wrong? You were always soo", thrust, "cute when you called me nii-chan when you were little, what happened to you? Gotta get my cute and obedient little sister back.", a particularly hard thrust almost made you topple over, but his strong grip held you up without a problem.

"Ah- no it's embarrassing..", you moaned at his mean thrusts.

"Say it or you won't cum."

He's as annoying as ever, but you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Feels good, yeah so so good nii-chan thank you. Please can I cum I'm such a good little sister right? Letting you use me however you like please~~"

"Yeah? Good job. Now play with your clit and cream on my cock.", he groaned into your ear and you thanked the heavens. Your hand immediately went to play at your sensitive nub. And with his praises and mean thrusts in his strong hold you felt yourself come undone. Luckily he got the money shot of your blown out eyes and gaping mouth right on camera.

"Thaaaat's it good~", he mused fucking you through your high and holding your limp body before stuffing you to the brim and filling you up as well. "You better take it all, 'm gonna make ya nice and plump."

After he sent you down he pointed the camera at your exposed cunt. "Now push some of it out" when he didn't get any reaction from you he gave you a spank and that did the trick as you felt his cum drip out of you and down your leg, "oh yeah that's it look at that guys." You could see how proud he was by his smug grin and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the camera.

"Any last words?", he questioned while he saw your huffing form as he directed the camera to your face.

Feetluvr77: God I never came this quick and much holy shit best stream so far

A couple comments came as you were saying your goodbyes and with a wave and kiss the camera was turned off. As soon as Yuji laid it back on your desk and was about to comment, a pillow came flying his way, almost knocking him over.

"Ayoo what was that for??"

"Shut up!! Why did you do that?"

"What do you mean? You liked it didn't you?"

You definitely couldn't argue with that, so you just huffed and tried to cover yourself with your blanket. He felt a little panicked at that and went to sit by your side.

"It was okay right? That we did it on camera I mean."

"Yeah it's fine that's what I do. I've always wanted to invite someone over to do it, but I never expected it to be you.." you trailed off not daring to look at him.

"Ohoo, but you always talk about me don't you? Why did you not just ask me?"

"Because it's weird asking my step-brother to have sex with me, it's that cringe step bro porn trope I didn't think you'd be interested in that. And what if someone recognizes you isn't that weird?", you looked at him, cheeks still pink.

"No, we can do it again, I don't mind. Actually I kinda-", he trailed off and you felt a little hopeful only to be let down. "Depending on my cut of course. By the way how much do you even make and will I see some of that for my hard work?"

You groaned and tried to shove him away, but he's built like a wall and didn't even budge.

"I do make quite a lot" when you told him the exact number his eyes shot open.

"That much a month??"

"Per week most of the time."

"What? Then why the hell do you even still live with me?", he was dumbfounded.

"I don't know, it's comfortable and I like being around you I guess.", you said honestly, he was not only easy on the eyes but actually really kind and helpful most of the time.

"Unbelievable, but fine by me" he chuckled shaking his head but came right back, "soooo when do we do it again and what do we do? Also I gotta practice my camera work. I have a lot on my mind, how about-"

Before he could finish you slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a drawn out sigh. Oh boy this will be more work than you anticipated.

-------

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

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mylifestylearedilfs · 5 days

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⇢ ˗ˏˋ joost klein x singer!reader ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ESPRESSO : fluff ; imagine ; all is fictional ; joost is such a babygirl here ; english is not my first language

, , ,

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ WHEN JURY ANNOUNCED YOU as a representation of your country, you couldn’t be happier. since your childhood, you were a fan of eurovision, only because you loved the idea that every country could show off their culture, beautiful language etc. you weren’t the most extrovert, so the thought of being filmed almost every second, having to take part in those interviews— which most of the time wasn’t even that necessary — stressed you out.

but someone decided to send you a literal angels, every contestant were just amazing, helping you with stress before performing at pre-parties. but your main partners in crime were nemo, bambie, your two baby girls marcus & martinus and your favourite person in this world — joost klein.

they all were your shoulders to cry on. you even created a group chat for your little eurovision gang. and let me say, you cried a lot during some pre-parties, both from laughing & crying. you couldn’t believe that you met that beautiful and amazing people, you were super grateful for that.

, , ,

today was the last pre-party before semi-finals, for you personally it was also a very important event, because you wanted to create a bond with your audience, and all the music parties before real contest were a must. that’s why you wanted everything to be perfect about your performance. but then you were woke up by a sharp pain in your throat, you started to panic immediately. when you tried to sang whatever song you had in mind in that moment, all you could hear was rasp voice and in this circumstance it wasn’t this sexy type of rasp.

as you walked into cafeteria, where almost every contestant were eating breakfast before rehearsals. when you saw bambie & nemo a big smile appears on your face. even if your mood were dead today, they will always make you smile no matter what. with loud sigh you sat down at the table, saying quick ‘hello’

“hi babe, what happened to your precious voice?” bambie asked and you just hided your face in your hands.

“i guess i just screamed too much at your performances and now my voice said bye bye everyone” you joked and they just laughed, but then nemo sat down next to you and bring you to side hug.

“so you won’t be performing today?” bambie asked with worry tone, they knew how much you wanted to take part in every single evening.

“did i heard something about no performing?” you heard well known voice and second later you felt his hands on your shoulders.

“our little singer is mute for today unfortunately” bambie said, as joost sat next to you.

“i don’t even want to hear about this, of course you will perform” he said with such a lightness in his voice, and everyone else send him questionable looks.

“but i barely speak, there’s no way i can sing today” joost just laughed at your comment.

“who said anything about singing, honey?” after seeing more confused looks, he just added “you will see, now let’s eat” he clapped his hands and took some fruit out of nemo’s plate.

, , ,

right now you finally were on last pre-party, the atmosphere was fantastic as always. everyone was getting ready to show, without that much stress as at the beginning of this project. you admired how people that were shy and very formal to each other now can be a hundred per cent themselves. also watching them growing as artists was another great experience, sometimes you felt like a proud mother, especially when it comes to your safe group. at this point, you didn’t even care who would win, because in any scenario you would be extremely proud of your friends.

joost told you to get ready for the concert as usual, you didn’t even question him anymore, because you knew that he wouldn’t tell you anything, so it was pointless. you wore your stage outfit and patiently waited for your turn, right now at the stage you could see your favourite twins, even if you couldn’t sing, you still loudly supported them, but only with your applauses.

finally it was your turn to go on stage, but right before your leg touched the floor, joost showed up with his iconic blue suit, he took a microphone and started talking;

“hello everyone! i know you’re all waiting for our amazing y/n, but unfortunately she won’t be give you guys proper performance today, but good for her - i’m here” he said smiling, as the crowd just laughed, then he invited you at the stage and you were loudly welcome by audience. joost handed you microphone that was turned off and you heard the beginning of your song. a few moments later instead of your voice, you heard joost who were holding a phone with the lyrics of this song.

you couldn’t believed what was happening, all you did was laugh, when you heard how he tried to mimic your singing style. but then you realised, that you should start to lip syncing, and that’s what you did.

everyone, the audience & the contestants started laughing, but also singing along with joost. that was officially your best performance at all eurovision pre parties.

when the song ended, you turned on the microphone and said shortly “you’re crazy” shortly after you heard his response “anything for you, honey”

#imagine #fluff #joost klein #justice for joost #free joost #stand with joost #joost x reader #joost klein x reader #joost klein x you #eurovision #eurovison song contest #eurovision imagines #eurovision 2024

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training4theapocalypse · 10 months

Text

Never Been Kissed (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: SMUT, Second chance romance, Canon typical descriptions of murder and violence, Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Safe sex (male condom), Multiple orgasms

Summary: You're a PI who joins the 11th Street Kids after a chance meeting with John Economos on the dark web. Unfortunately for you, your ex-friend-with-benefits Vigilante is here too. (Based on this ask by anon)

A/N: This took a hot minute. The M&Ms were originally cigarettes but these days I'm a healthy queen free of nicotine -purr.

Masterlist

Join my tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982, @pretendfan, @lolitstiana, @countlambula, @chiaraanatra, @stainedpomegranatelips, @navs-bhat, @ohnoitsrosie, @daisydark, @angrydragon90, @intense-sneezing

Chapter text:

The dim fire exit sign outside the back of the abandoned video store flickers as you suck a peanut M&M between your tongue and the roof of your mouth anxiously. You hope your contact hurries the fuck up - if he makes you wait any longer you’ll finish an entire party bag from nervousness.

It was stupid, really, even reckless, to meet a stranger from the dark web. But when some guy called TechConomos_11 had responded to you in a chat room where you were discussing the intel you had on some sinister goings-on in Evergreen, you knew you had to meet him and his team.

Because you’ll be damned if anyone catches the escaped gorilla before you.

There’s a clink of a padlock and chain falling to the floor, the sound of a heavy emergency exit bar being pushed down and when the door opens you’re face to face with a large, bearded man wearing glasses.

“Are you the PI?”

If you had to draw a sketch of what you thought a guy you met on the dark web would look like, he would be it. Not a neckbeard, exactly, just someone with the distinct aura of having too much time spent in front of a screen.

You nod. “TechConomos?”

“Call me John. Come inside - the team’s all here.”

You shove the half-empty pack of M&Ms into your bag and he leads you through to the back office.

“This is Murn, Harcourt and Adebayo.” He gestures to his three associates sitting in the office who each acknowledge you in turn. “And these guys-”

“Fuck it! Fuck, fuck fuck!”

The yelling draws your attention to the window separating the office from the rest of the video store and it’s like a knife in your gut when you see him.

Vigilante.

“Ugh, fuck! It hurts to walk!” Vigilante whines as he limps around. He turns to pace some more but stops in his tracks in alarm when he sees you. He immediately dives to the floor, launching himself behind a desk in a futile attempt to hide.

Vigilante is the last person you expected to - or wanted to - see here. It’s not his usual MO - normally he’d be out hunting thugs and drug dealers. What was he doing caught up in this operation with some tech guy and a team who you suspected were either current or former soldiers?

There’s a roaring laugh and your eyes find Peacemaker, doubled over in his chair, laughing like an idiot at Vigilante sprawled on the ground.

That explains Vigilante’s involvement. Looks like his idol, Peacemaker, is finally out of prison and the first thing he does is rope Vigilante into whatever this is. The whole thing stinks. Why is there an entire team with two capes looking for an escaped zoo animal? Any why did one of those capes have to be Vigilante?

You close your eyes and groan. “You didn’t tell me you were working with them.”

“You know each other?” asks Harcourt.

“Just Vigilante.” You sigh and follow them into the video store.

“Hey, asshole,” you say, peering over the desk Vigilante is hidden behind. He looks up at you and props his masked head up on his arm casually as if you didn’t just see him throw himself there a second ago.

“Oh, hey!” he says, feigning pleasant surprise.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I hurt my pinky toe.”

“Yeah? Which one?” You walk around the desk and stand at his feet to get a better look.

“Nononono! Wait!”

You clock the way his visor-covered eyes dart down to his right foot in panic.

“Woah, did you think I was gonna kick you or something?” Sure, you have beef but you’re kind of offended he’d think that you’d harm him on purpose.

“No…” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Asshole.” You roll your eyes and sit on the hard wooden surface, turning away from him to face the team.

“Who the fuck is this?” Peacemaker asks Murn before looking between you and Vigilante. “Do you two know each other or something?”

You don’t deign to reply.

There’s a squeak of a chair being dragged on linoleum as Vigilante pulls himself up onto a seat next to Peacemaker with a wince.

“Economos says you want to join the team,” says Murn.

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I know everything that goes on in Evergreen.”

“And?”

“I have information and skills that I want money for. Obviously.”

“How much?”

You were talking about splitting the reward for the gorilla but Murn’s expectant look makes it clear this is a contract. What’s that saying again? A contract in the hand is worth a gorilla in the bush? … Something like that.

“Well, what are you paying him?” You cast your eyes at Vigilante who shrugs. Unbelievable. “They’re not paying you? Idiot.”

Murn and Harcourt glance at each other awkwardly. “This is strictly off the books,” says Murn.

“So you were just going to take advantage of him? No way. I want my pay backdated for all the intell I’ve found for you. And his too for whatever it is he’s doing for you.”

“How do you guys know each other?” asks John, pulling up a chair behind his laptop.

You look at Vigilante warningly and answer before he can open his fat mouth. “I’ve sent some work his way once or twice. And compensated him fairly for it,” you add pointedly.

“Oh, they’ve definitely fucked,” laughs Peacemaker.

“Shouldn’t you be in Belle Reve?” You glare at him.

Peacemaker ignores the question. “Did he keep the mask on with you too?” He pouts faux-sympathetically.

This catches you off-guard. Not Vigilante and Peacemaker fucking - Vigilante is so obsessed with him that you guessed it was only a matter of time.

But he did keep his mask on.

Vigilante groans and leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring determinedly at his injured foot.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Enough!” Murn gives Peacemaker a severe look before turning his attention back to you. “John says you know the location of what we’re looking for.”

“I’m not telling you until you get me up to speed with what you’ve got so far. John wouldn’t tell me shit online. Call it a show of good faith.”

“And we’re supposed to just take your word that you actually have useful information?” asks Adebayo.

John opens his mouth to reply but Vigilante beats him to the punch.

“She knows,” says Vigilante, finally looking up. “She’s… she’s a good PI. If she says she knows, she knows.”

“Well, we can’t divulge state secrets just because Vigilante vouches for you. Tell us the ‘where’ and if it checks out - you’re in,” says Harcourt.

You look around at this unlikely group. If you want to catch the gorilla you need their help. You need their weapons. You need their money.

“It’s at the Glan Tai bottling plant. You heard of it?”

“Pulling it up now…” John types on his keyboard. “It makes sense, Murn. They’ve got the production, the distribution channels… This is probably it.”

Distribution channels? What’s the gorilla at Glan Tai got to do with distribution?

You keep your face neutral - if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this job, it’s when to sit back, shut up and listen.

You try to piece things together as Murn talks about ‘butterflies’ and their ‘food source’. Economos checks highway CCTV footage and confirms that your intel is correct. This is extremely lucky for you because you’re clearly talking about two entirely different things. You wonder if these ‘butterflies’ are some kind of parasite-induced sleeper agent. And maybe the food source is a drug to release them from their fugue state?

“...And the gorilla?” you ask eventually.

“What about the gorilla?” asks Harcourt.

“The gorilla is at Glan Tai.”

“There’s a Butterfly gorilla?” asks Vigilante excitedly. “That is so cool!”

“Is that even possible?” Harcourt asks Murn who nods.

You’ve seen some shit but a gorilla sleeper agent takes the fucking cake. They all seem totally unfazed so you pretend to be too.

“So, what’s our next move? When do we start killing these aliens?” asks Peacemaker.

Aliens.

You discreetly scan the others. Nobody else bats an eyelid at Peacemaker’s use of that word.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

“You two get some rest, come back tonight,” says Murn to Peacemaker and Vigilante. “And you - you’ve got evidence of what we’re doing here?” There’s no point in lying so you nod. “Bring it back here so we can destroy it. All of it.”

You, Peacemaker and Vigilante, leave the video store. You cross the street to get to your car but Vigilante calls your name. You turn around to see him hurriedly limping over while Peacemaker climbs into the Vigilantemobile.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re part of the team now.”

“I can’t return the sentiment.” You scowl at him. Peacemaker beeps the horn of Vigilante’s car. “You’d better hurry up - you don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.”

“We’re not in a relationship. You know I only wanted to be with-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“C’mon, can’t you at least tell me why you stopped answering my calls?”

“I already told you - I’m not going to wait around my entire life for a guy who won’t even show me his face. Or tell me his real name.”

“I can’t -”

“Save your excuses for someone who gives a shit.” Peacemaker blasts the horn again. “At least I know you keep the mask on when you fuck him too. It’s not like he’s seen your face.”

Vigilante’s visor-covered eyes avoid contact with yours. His hesitation is like a punch in the gut.

“He’s seen your face?” You don’t mean to whisper it. The words just spill from your lips like you’ve been winded.

“Not like that. That was just a meaningless threesome-”

“But he’s seen it?”

He nods.

You push him aside to throw your car door open and get in. “Fuck you, V.” You slam it shut and drive away, not even bothering to glance at him standing haplessly in your rearview mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, you and John cross-check your intel. It’s becoming clear that this is way out of your fucking league. But if Vigilante can do it, you can too.

Right?

“You want some peanut M&Ms?”.

He accepts a handful gladly. “Why is so much of this about the fucking gorilla?” John asks with his mouth full, looking over your shoulder at your laptop screen.

The necessity of any quick thinking on your part is interrupted when you hear Murn’s voice ringing from the back office.

“You told Vigilante to kill Peacemaker's father?!”

You and John drop what you’re doing and peer tentatively around the door of the office where Murn is berating Adebayo.

“I didn't tell him to… I just kinda put the idea in his head,” she explains.

“That Peacemaker would be better off without his father?”

Oh no.

“Where’s Vigilante?” you ask suspiciously, joining Murn as he stands with his arms crossed. He looks furious.

“He’s in jail,” mumbles Adebayo. “I might have suggested that if someone were to go in and kill Peacemaker’s dad, all our problems would go away.”

You run your hands through your hair.

“How could you manipulate him like that?” Your combat boots squeak on the floor as you pace across it, catastrophising aloud. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Vigilante is very fucking easy to manipulate. And he has a record. What if he kills someone in prison and gets locked up for life? Or what if he gets himself killed trying?”

“Peacemaker’s gonna see right through this. He’ll know exactly what you tried to do,” says Murn to Adebyo sternly.

They’re fucking crazy.

“Who gives a shit about Peacemaker? Vigilante is locked in jail with the White Dragon!” You plead urgently. Vigilante is in real danger and all they care about is Peacemaker’s feelings.

“Economos, can you get Vigilante out of the system before he screws us worse than we're already screwed?”

John sighs. “I don’t even know this guy’s name.”

The four of them look at you.

You cross your arms. “I can’t tell you his name.”

“Guess he’s gonna die in prison then -”

“Last name Chase. First name Adrian.” You blurt out his secret that you’ve been holding deep in your chest. “But you can’t tell him I told you. He doesn’t know I know.”

You crowd around John’s laptop as he pulls up Adrian’s file.

“We shouldn’t be looking at this,” you say as you stare intently at his mugshot - the mugshot you’re so well acquainted with. You’d rather die than admit how many hours you’ve spent sitting at your desk late at night, looking at his police record on your laptop.

And suddenly, it’s like you’re back in bed with him, as he stares breathlessly at the ceiling and you lie there naked on top of his bare chest, looking into his masked face, picturing that very same mugshot underneath it.

“Guess again,” Vigilante says. You can tell even under the mask that he’s grinning, enjoying your questioning.

“Hmm… are you a doctor? You’ve stitched yourself up a lot.”

“You think I’m a doctor and live here?”

Vigilante watches as you make a show of pursing your lips thoughtfully. The warm afternoon sun streaks through the gaps in his blinds onto his bed. It makes it look like there’s a golden halo around your messy bed hair. He tucks a small strand behind your ear as you walk your index and middle fingers along his chest and down his shoulder.

“Maybe a fireman with these big strong arms?”

He likes you when you let your walls down like this. You’re almost downright playful when he’s satisfied you - a personality trait he still hasn’t extricated from you outside these four walls.

“Man, I am so good at this secret identity thing if I can keep it a secret from a PI.”

You laugh. “I guess so.”

He didn’t know that you had long known his real job. And his real name. Or that you’d trace your fingers over his face on your laptop screen as you tried to reconcile it with the masked killer who was content to let you into his bed but never his real life.

“Wasn’t he our busboy at Fennel Fields?” Adebayo’s question snaps you back to the present.

“Can you pull him out?” You ask John.

“It’s… done.” He says, with a final click of his keyboard. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid. Yet.”

Harcourt shrugs her leather jacket on. “I’ll pick him up.”

Great - first he reveals to Peacemaker who he is and now Harcourt who he’s known for a hot minute is about to see his face too.

You frown. “He’s gonna be really upset we know his identity.”

“You wanna come and soften the blow?”

“I’ll drive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harcourt sits in the passenger seat of your car outside of the Evergreen Police Department. You’ve been sitting here quietly in the dark, staring at the front doors for almost an hour.

“So what’s your deal with Vigilante?” She asks, finally breaking the silence.

“I told you - I threw some contract work his way. Used him as a bodyguard from time to time when I needed the extra muscle.”

“And then what? Why did you call him an asshole?”

“Because he can be an asshole.”

“That doesn’t sound right. A psychopath maybe. But an asshole? I don’t buy it.”

You keep your eyes focused on the police station door to hide your face. “He doesn’t mean to be an asshole.” You swallow with difficulty. “He just has a code. Lots of quirky little rules he has to follow that makes it difficult for someone ordinary like me to be - I mean, to work with him.”

“Like not revealing his secret identity.”

It’s not a question but you nod all the same.

“So this is your first time seeing him without his mask?”

“That he knows of.” Your forehead touches the cool glass window. It’s like if you stare hard enough at the door he’ll appear in one piece. “I had to do my background checks.”

The doors open and you see Adrian Chase in his cardigan and jeans walking out into the dark night, illuminated by the fluorescent streetlights.

He’s alive.

You roll down your window and he stops dead. He stares at you in shock with his lips parted slightly - unsure whether you recognise him or not.

Harcourt stretches across your seat and calls to Adrian. “We’re here to take you home. Get in.”

When he climbs into the back seat of your car you both turn in your seats. You breathe a sigh of relief seeing him up close - physically he’s unscathed.

“He’s still alive…” He says. “I’m Adrian.”

“Okay,” Harcourt says simply.

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” you tell him.

He looks up at both of you sadly over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I think I might have made things worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you drop Harcourt off at her motel, Adrian gets into the passenger seat. You let him give directions to his apartment, even though you already know where he lives.

“This is me,” he says when you pull up to his building and park in the spot you’ve parked in on countless occasions.

“I know.”

“Right. Yeah, you’ve been here.”

“A couple of times, yeah…”

His stupid code. You could know where he lives but never see his face. And now you can’t stop yourself from drinking him in - his slightly stubbly chin from his day spent in prison, the way his curly hair is all messed up. He groans heavily and leans his head back against the headrest. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“The guys know how you ended up in jail - they don’t blame you.” He doesn’t say anything. You search his face as he stares gloomily ahead. “What happened in there, V?” you ask.

“I tried to provoke Peacemaker’s dad into a fight. It worked at first - the Aryans took the bait but his dad saw right through it. I think I’ve fucked up the whole mission.”

So Vigilante went into a viper pit unarmed and provoked a bunch of nazis into fighting him.

Deep down, you know it’s fucked up to be attracted to someone capable of such violence but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s what drew you to him in the first place. You knew about the headlines before you met him. And the idea of him taking on a dangerous prison gang really shouldn’t make your heart pound the way it is right now.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

You’ve never touched his hair before but you want to stroke it and comfort him. Tell him that it wasn’t his fault and it’ll all be okay. But he interrupts your train of thought before you can reach your hand out.

“I meant I’m sorry about us.”

Why is your first instinct to tell him that it’s no big deal that he broke your heart? Stupidly, you want to protect him from it - from the hurt he caused you. Comfort him, put his feelings before your own just because you can tell that right now he needs it.

But it is a big deal.

As soon as you remind yourself he couldn’t trust you enough to let you in, it feels like your heart is shattering all over again, mourning what you could have had.

Trust.

“I told the team your name so they could bail you out,” you admit, desperate to get the fact that you betrayed him off your chest. “I was worried about you locked up in there.”

He turns his head to look at you properly for the first time all night. The streetlights are reflected in his dorky little glasses.

“You knew my name?” He doesn’t look betrayed - he just looks surprised. “How…?”

You lift your finger from the steering wheel to point at his apartment. “Anyone with your address could find out who you are. And your full name appears on my checking account when you cash the checks I write you.”

“So you know… everything?”

“Yup.”

His eyebrows knit together in a plea. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to want me to know.”

“Knowing my secret identity would put you at risk.”

“That bullshit and you know it, V. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Yeah you do - that’s why you had me come with you on jobs.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Then why did you hire me?”

“I was curious about the man behind the headlines, I guess. Then I nearly went broke trying to spend time with you. Do you honestly think I wanted to give you a cut of my contracts for months? ”

He presses his palms into his eyes, pushing his glasses up out of the way and trying to make sense of it all.

“So those jobs were just you finding a reason to hang out?” He drags his hands down his face.

“Well, not at first. But then we started sleeping together after jobs and I wanted to keep doing that.”

“I would’ve wanted to be with you even without those jobs.”

“Oh yeah? You’d have taken me out on a date as Vigilante?” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again - as if reconsidering whatever he was about to say. “After all that time you still didn’t trust me enough to take off your mask. The last time we saw each other I practically begged you to show me who you are. Then Peacemaker comes back in town and you - what? Just rip off your mask and spill the beans without a second thought?”

“I was being tortured by Goff-”

“The senator tortured you?”

“Well, the Butterfly who had taken over his body. But yeah. He - I mean she - ripped off my mask and tried to cut off my pinky toe. Peacemaker was just there.”

You feel sick thinking about him being tortured. Then you feel sick about feeling sick. It’s not just normal empathy. You want revenge. But you know you shouldn’t care this much. Not when you’ve been broken up for so long.

“Shit, V. That’s horrible.”

“Besides, if I was gonna show someone my face it would have been you. Not Peacemaker.” He looks at you sadly. “I wish you hadn’t left.”

“And I wish you had given me a reason to stay, V. I deserved someone who could trust me. And you… you deserved someone you could be yourself with. We couldn’t be that for each other.”

The hurt on your face is plain for him to see - there’s no point trying to hide it.

“I do trust you. It’s just…” He hesitates. “You’re the only person I know who thought I was cool.”

“Adrian… that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Adrian.

It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that and it makes Adrian’s heart leap. Like the two sides of him have finally met you. After all this time.

“It’s not. Everyone else who knows me as Adrian knows I’m a loser. And I thought if I told you I was a busboy with no friends, you’d think that too.”

“You have friends.”

“Yeah, right.”

“The guys in the video store? They were so worried about you in jail. They like you a lot.” He allows himself a small smile like he doesn’t really believe it. “And I…” You pause. How do you feel about Adrian? “I still think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re actually saying the words he was afraid you’d never say.

“Of course I do. You’re still the masked Vigilante of Evergreen. And I’m just… ordinary.”

He scoffs in amazement. “You’re not ordinary - you’re like the smartest person I know. And you don’t need to hide behind a mask to do your job.

“I’m not that smart.”

“I mean, you found out more about the butterflies than the US government.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Can I tell you something? And you won’t tell the rest of the team?”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I didn’t know what butterflies were until today.” He looks extremely confused so you press on. “I met John in a dark web chatroom when I was researching the missing gorilla. And I thought you guys were looking for it too.”

He laughs. A merciless side-splitting laugh that doesn’t take your embarrassment into consideration at all. But it shows off his beautiful smile. And when you see it you can’t stop yourself from joining in too. It’s so ridiculous. You wanted to find the gorilla, and maybe get your PI business mentioned again in the local paper. Now you’ve been roped into saving the world with a black ops team and Vigilante.

You both try to regain your composure and stare at each other, catching your breath. He shakes his head, grinning.

Christ, look at him.

“I sometimes wondered if you wouldn’t remove your mask because you were just a bad kisser. I mean, I saw your mugshot so I already knew you were pretty.” You can’t help but tell him. You know the grainy photo on his record like the back of your hand but in person, he’s frankly gorgeous.

“Thanks, I know.”

You laugh again. “And modest.”

“You think I fund being Vigilante on a busboy salary? I get a lot of tips.”

“It all makes sense now. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Because she didn’t want to wait around for an idiot who wouldn’t even kiss her.”

You stare at each other in the shadowy silence for a few moments.

“It’s late, we should both get some rest.”

“Wait, don’t go.” His hand touches your thigh and it feels like there’s an electric current buzzing between his hand and the fabric of your jeans. The atmosphere almost crackles, like lighting about to strike in the middle of a storm. It’s the first time he’s touched you since you walked out on him six months ago and never went back. “It’s super late, you should crash at mine.”

“If I come upstairs we both know what’s going to happen.”

He tilts his head and you watch dimples form as the corners of his mouth turn into a mischievous smile. “That’s kind of the idea.”

“A bad one. We need to work together.”

“When has fucking ever stopped us from completing a job?”

“It hasn’t. But when we stopped seeing each other… I was really cut up. I couldn’t concentrate on work for a while. It’s why I needed the reward for the gorilla so badly.”

“Then we just won’t stop this time.”

“Adrian… I’ve only just pulled myself together again. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.”

He removes his hand from your leg to unclip his seatbelt.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Adrian gives you an apologetic look.

You stare at his lips. They’re just there. His whole face is out in the open. And now his lips, and the rest of him, are about to leave your car and you never know when you’ll see him unmasked again. He opens the car door.

“Wait -”

He turns back around in his seat.

“Let me find out if you’re a bad kisser. At least I can tell myself I’m not missing out on anything if you are.”

“You’re gonna be so mad…” He cups your face and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m a really good kisser.”

You smile and his lips meet yours.

It’s nothing like you imagined.

When you had sex it always felt urgent, even dangerous, getting into bed with a masked cape who was wanted for murder. More often than not he fucked you from behind, tugged fistfuls of your hair and slapped your ass.

But his kisses… his kisses are soft and slow. And good.

You’re totally screwed.

He sucks your lip gently and then his tongue traces across yours. You urge yourself forward in the driver’s seat closer to him, bringing your hand up to cradle the nape of his neck and lace your hand in his soft hair.

Warmth spreads in your chest when he deepens the kiss. You secretly hoped he’d be like this when he was unmasked. Your hot and rough encounters were always fun but in your heart you always wanted him to want you like this. Deeply. Reverently.

You break apart and press your forehead against his with your eyes closed, feeling your heart hammering against your chest.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks.

You open your eyes to see his green ones searching yours from behind his glasses. He lets out a long, happy exhale when he hears your seatbelt unclick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrian’s bedroom is neat, clean, with framed vintage comic books on his walls and illuminated by a lava lamp on his bedside table. Details you remember from previous visits but barely register this time as you both burst through his bedroom door while he kisses you. Refusing to take his hands from your body, he kicks the door shut behind him forgetting about his injured foot. He regrets it immediately.

“Fuck!” He pulls away and winces.

“Careful,” you soothe, shrugging your jacket off onto the floor and he lifts your shirt off. As soon as your skin is uncovered his mouth finds it. He drags his tongue across your collarbones and between your breasts, nudging the cup of your bra aside so he can find your nipple.

His warm mouth feels almost too good to be true as he sucks on the hard, pebbled skin and moves on to taste every inch of your exposed chest, his deft hands unhooking your bra and tossing it aside quickly.

The entire day could have been a crazy fever dream. You’ve gone from your heart sinking at the very sight of him to it fluttering like crazy as you lie back on his mattress so he can pull your jeans and underwear off.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, sinking to his knees between your legs at the edge of the bed.

Even though you’re completely naked on his bed while he’s still dressed, you somehow feel less on display than he is right now without his mask. It feels taboo watching his jaw muscles tighten as he works his mouth all over your inner thighs. There’s something so controlled about the way he meticulously kisses the sensitive skin at the crux of your thigh that makes your lip quiver.

You’ve spent enough time around his quick reflexes to know Vigilante is going to be skilled at eating you out but sometimes, especially in the depths of your despair during your breakup, there was a niggling inkling at the back of your mind that the mask might just be a convenient excuse not to.

You had suspected, or maybe even hoped, when you hooked up that he had come really, really close to rolling up the bottom half of his mask and tasting you. More than once, you had caught a fleeting glimpse of him at odds with himself, his eyes behind his visor staring at your pussy and his neck muscles contracting as he swallowed thickly, strengthening his resolve and deciding to protect his own identity instead.

But tonight - finally - his tongue slides between your folds and you let out a low whine when the furnace-hot heat of his mouth besets itself over your clit.

Adrian groans when he tastes your arousal flooding his mouth. His hands cup under your ass as he pulls himself closer. You dare yourself to run your hand through his hair again, your fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. It still feels like it shouldn’t be allowed but he doesn’t seem to mind at all as his lips suck on your swollen clit.

“Fuck, Adrian…” His real name still sounds foreign on your lips, like you have to make a conscious effort to say it.

Adrian looks up at you over his glasses, his pupils wide in the dim violet light of the lava-lamp-lit room. He takes in your glowing face and chest as you lie propped up on your elbows, enjoying the sight of him on the floor between your legs.

His fingers knead the soft, pillowy flesh of your ass like he doesn’t want to let you go anywhere ever again. And you don’t want to. Fuck the mission. Can’t you just stay here forever? In Adrian’s bedroom, panting while his tongue runs firm circles over your clit.

When you roll your hips in encouragement, he lets out a soft little moan sending vibrations over the bundle of nerves - it almost makes you dissolve right there and then.

“I can’t believe I let you… fuck - let you get away with not doing this before,” you whimper. “So - s’fucking good, V.”

“Adrian,” he says and the tiniest absence of friction when his tongue leaves your clit makes your fingers tighten in his hair, urging him to return to your aching pussy.

“Adrianadrianadrian,” you babble, scared that his lips will leave you again. No more V. No more Vigilante. Just Adrian. Here. Eating your pussy like it’s you who’d been depriving him of this for months on end. Pleasure rises deep in your core like the tide getting ready to crash against the cliff face.

Your brain becomes fuzzy as increasingly desperate noises escape your throat - something strangled between a whine and his name. You squirm against his tongue as he relentlessly continues, determined to draw from you the orgasm that you’ve been desperate for since he kissed you in the car and you realised his mouth would feel like heaven.

The pressure of his tongue against your soaking wet pussy makes you writhe in exhilaration. You barely notice his fingers digging harder into your skin as you arch your spine and throw your head back.

Your thigh muscles tense and relax, trembling on either side of his face. “Adrian, I’m gonna - gonna cum…”

Instead of responding, he sinks two fingers deep inside your cunt, giving you something to squeeze around as every muscle in your pelvis tightens. He curls his fingers slightly and it’s just enough to push you over the fucking edge.

The purplish glow of the room turns blinding white as waves, hot and wet, break over you and your body floods with ecstasy. Your whole lower body stiffens as your walls clench around his fingers and you grind your pussy against his mouth.

Fuck, you’ve been missing out. You haven’t been with anyone else the entire time you’ve been apart and it’s like your body has been crying for exactly this moment without you realising how much you needed it. Needed his mouth on you.

The room comes into focus again gradually as Adrian gives you a last few slow, gentle kisses before sliding his fingers out of your still-twitching centre.

You breathe heavily and look at him kneeling on the floor.

He looks stupidly pleased with himself, the corner of his wet, glistening mouth upturned in a self-congratulatory smile at the way he’s taken you apart piece by piece. You can’t help but giggle from endorphins buzzing through your body. It makes your abdomen hurt from all the tensing you were doing.

Adrian slaps the side of your ass and gets to his feet, undoing his belt buckle. “C’mon, bend over,” he grins.

You sit up, shake your head and smile. “Nuh-uh, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He blinks a couple of times dazedly. “Did you forget about your mask for a second?”

Adrian clears his throat. “Uh...No?”

He so did.

“C’mere.” You hook your fingers through his belt loops and pull him closer. You kiss the light trail of hair covering his hard abdomen while your fingers work to undo his jeans and pull them down to release him from the confines of his boxers.

God, you missed it. He has a pretty face alright but his cock is fucking perfect.

Your cheeks grow hot feeling him so close. You grip his hard length and draw your tongue across the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum.

“Take your top off,” you say, looking up at him before running your tongue along his shaft, keeping eye contact.

He grips the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head. Seeing him in the purple glow, every contour of his sculpted abdomen illuminated sends burning heat to your pelvis. You never thought you were into muscular guys, not until you saw Vigilante take his suit off for the first time. Now you’re not sure if you could go back to anything else. Anyone else.

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock but he interrupts you.

“I need to fuck you. Please.”

At this point, you’re so turned on it’s an offer you can’t refuse. You release him and scoot back on the bed. He goes to crawl on top of you but flinches when his injured foot meets the mattress.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to - ah fuck.”

“It’s okay. Here, lie down. Let me go on top.”

He does so with relief and you swing your leg over his thighs.

“Better?”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, looking at your naked figure sitting on top of him.

You reach into his bedside drawer where you know he keeps his condoms. Your fingers skirt over what you suspect are bags of candy until you find the corrugated square shape you’re looking for. You take it out and roll the condom on him.

“Okay, easy,” you say, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. He throbs under the grip of your hand in anticipation. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“You were totally cool with me over-exerting myself on the floor a second ago.”

“I was talking to myself,” you smirk. “It’s been a while.”

You ease yourself down onto his cock, feeling the beautiful stretch as you adjust to his size.

“Shit…” he breathes, clamping his hands down hard on your hips, forcing you to bottom out. His eyebrows knit together and he sighs through parted lips, feeling the way your walls stretch around him. He looks so beautiful - you can’t stop looking at his lips.

You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head so you can lean down and kiss him. The taste of your juices registers on your tongue as his enters your mouth. You deepen the kiss and Adrian responds by jerking his hips up needily, pressing into your g-spot.

You moan and suck on his bottom lip, gently rolling it between your teeth as he pushes into the most sensitive part of your centre. Searing heat burns low in your belly, spreading to your thighs. You push yourself back up to ride him and grab his wrists, dragging them from your waist to grope at your chest.

“Fuck, you look so hot riding my dick.”

“Yeah? Rose-tinted visor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”

You’re teasing him but it seems to spur him on, as he squeezes your tits and jerks up into your bouncing hips. Every wet slap that meets your ears only increases your neediness for him. It burns brightly in your core, making you wetter and even more desperate for your next orgasm.

Every roll of your body sends his cock plunging into you, pushing against you at the perfect angle. God, he feels incredible. Your walls start to convulse around him, clamping down and gripping his cock as your second climax rears its head.

“Adrian, fuck, I’m close…” you plead, frantically chasing your high, wildly gyrating and bouncing in time with his thrusts.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“No, say my name,” he says, through gritted teeth, his neck muscles tightening in the soft light.

His neck.

“Fuck, Adrian.” You lunge forward and bite on his neck. He grabs handfuls of your ass, anchoring himself into you as he thrusts savagely upwards sending pleasure rocketing through you. Fuck he’s deep. So fucking deep.

His name leaves your lips over and over, broken and ragged as every jerk of his hip knocks the air out of your lungs. Bliss ignites and your cry of pleasure is muffled as you moan and run your tongue over his neck, smelling his aftershave mixed with his musky sweat. An explosion, more fierce than any grenade blast bursts through your centre as he pummels his cock with unparalleled force and precision, even as you squirm and shake, unable to keep moving your own hips in time with his.

With every ounce of strength you have you lean up on your arms to look at his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and his facial muscles contort as he sucks through his teeth.

“Cum for me, Adrian,” you murmur sweetly in his ear and he opens his eyes, giving you a terminally helpless look as he slams his hips into your hot, wet cunt and you squeeze around him as tight as you can. With a final thrust, you feel his thighs tighten and his cock pulsing inside you as he cums.

You flatten your body back on top of his - the warm, damp sweat between your chests feels strangely pleasant. His fingers trace circles up your spine, gently tickling your back. Adrian turns his head to kiss you and you both lie for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours.

After what feels like a long time of lying in quiet elation, you make yourself climb carefully off of him and roll over, resting back on his pillows.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he says and you lie back watching him dispose of the condom, taking care not to put any pressure on his bandaged toe. He launches himself back on the bed with a thud making you bounce on the mattress. “Good, you’re still here,” he says, leaning on his elbow and looking down at you.

“Where else would I be?” you laugh.

“Well… you usually leave right after. Except that one time I accidentally bought peanut M&Ms.”

You look at him apologetically. In fairness, the mask was hardly an invitation to spend the night - what was he going to do? Sleep in it? “Do you have peanut M&Ms?”

He nods to his bedside drawer and you open it to see that it’s stuffed with the little yellow bags.

“You like peanut M&Ms now?”

He pulls a face. “No way dude, they’re so gross.”

“Then why…?”

“I guess I always hoped you might change your mind and come back. So I bought them whenever I thought about you.”

You look at the drawer - there’s practically enough that Adrian could have made a trail of peanut M&Ms from your apartment across town to his. “You would have made a really sweet boyfriend,” you sigh.

“Well, I mean… I still could,” he says in a would-be nonchalant type of way, pushing up his glasses with his finger and avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah?” You weren’t sure if he’d be open to picking up where you left off. But it feels right when it didn’t before. Now you know him. Really know him.

He pulls his eyes up and meets your gaze with a smile. “If you want me to?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

“Sweet,” he says with a wide smile, not bothering to hide how giddy he is.

You open the packet. “For the record, I’m not just staying because of the M&Ms this time.”

“I know.”

“And I’m glad you’re on the team.”

He nods happily, watching you pop a few into your mouth. “Hashtag me too.”

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante peacemaker #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #vigilante x female reader #smut #adrian chase smut #vigilante smut #fanfiction #freddie stroma #fanfic #peacemaker

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hwanchaesong · 2 months

Text

"Hardcore"

SugarDaddy!Jongho X F!Reader

Synopsis: Bodies under the sheets, buddies over the streets

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, smut, cursing, drinking, kind of like forbidden love, university setting, cheating (i do not condone this), friendly banters, oral (m&f rec), unprotected sex, dirty talking, mentions of other sexual activities and hints of public sex, petnames, TXT Beomgyu's special appearance, etc etc mdni!

word count: 7.5k

/ATEEZ Sugar Daddy Oneshots Masterlist/

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"I just saw an insect fly inside your mouth."

You yelped and pursed your lips, turning around in your seat to glare at the boy who spoke behind you, a teasing grin on his face as he proceeded to sit beside you.

"Hello to you too, Beomgyu." you rolled your eyes and continued eating your lunch while your friend laughed at your lack of usual defensiveness whenever he points out your dumb countenance.

He went and picked one of the fries on your plate, your protests falling on deaf ears, "You should give me your food and eat his bulky ass instead." he says, subtly pointing at the man that you were previously gawking at.

Another comment from him that made your blood pressure spike.

"Don't you ever shut up?" you slapped his hand away from your tray, "And no, I will not do that, you dipshit."

Beomgyu raised his hands in defeat, feigned concern gracing his annoyingly charming face, "I was tryna help you."

"What do you want?" you groaned, looking at him and inquiring what his deal is, and like a lightbulb turned on in his head, he finally blurted out a news that you'll surely dread.

"I wanna inform you that we have swimming lessons for PE today." he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you, hinting at something which you immediately understood.

This is seriously not happening right now.

Your eyes naturally trailed over to the guy that you're currently interested in, chatting away with the science teacher (Lee Chan) on their table, which conveniently is your physical education teacher.

The previous one was a girl, but she had to take a leave from teaching for a while due to her pregnancy. Then your school just had to hire a hot dude for a substitute.

Choi fucking Jongho.

You weren't interested at first, but he sure as hell caught your attention when one day, he walked in on the gym wearing the tightest short that you had seen a man wear.

His thigh muscles are bulging, threatening to rip the flimsy fabric and you have to mentally kick yourself for staring.

That was the first one.

Strike two happened when a boring discussion about hand grip turned into him breaking an apple in half, a thought running in your mind that made you realize that you're doomed.

"I wish I was that apple."

You want to be that piece of juicy, red fruit just to be what? To be broken in half by his large hands?

Well damn, you're nuts for that one.

It should have been fine, you thinking of that way of your teacher. It's a small fantasy that you could live in for a while and get over it when the time comes.

It should be fine.. but your stupid self just had to say that out loud. Good thing that the whole class was roaring at your teacher's inhumane strength. Too bad, your seatmate slash best friend heard you clearly, and now, he has an item for blackmail against you.

"Whatever," you mumbled, munching on your sandwich, "it's not like we'll be standing close to each other during the whole period."

Beomgyu smiled once more, seeing right through your nonchalant attitude, "You'll never know what will happen."

Yes, you don't know what will happen unless fate or some fucking fairy guided you into some shit. But this-

This! So damn horrendous.

You see, whenever you wish for luck to come to you, it never does, and that's fine! But.. why the fuck do you have to be so unfortunate?

Like, truly miserable as your puppy eyes went down the drain when your sucker of a bestfriend gave you a thumbs up and mouthed the most inappropriate sentence you had ever encountered (you're just dramatic.)

'Go get the apple of your dreams!'

Oh, he's so dead later for putting you into this position. Later because right now, you're currently rummaging through your brain on how to survive the next (possibly the best) events of your life.

"I'm sorry for dragging you here, Ms. L/N." Jongho's voice brought you out of your inner dilemma, making you realize that you're still here, rooted on earth and standing in front of your whole class for the damned swimming classes.

You ain't a good swimmer, but to hell with Beomgyu because the guy pushed you as the offering for the person who wants to try and act as the lead model for the swimming classes.

"No problem, sir." you gave him a tight lipped smile, inhaling through your nose and trying to keep your crazy heart rate steady.

"Thank you." he smiled back, putting his attention back to the class and resuming his discussion about the proper way to dive.

"So here, put your arms in position-"

The instructor began discussing, but you couldn't focus for gods sake.

He's touching your shoulders. His hands are on your back and oh! His fingers guiding your head to tuck your chin. This is absolute heaven and hell at the same time.

Your muscles are all tense from his magnetizing touch, enjoying all of the sensations you're feeling and you are so close to fluttering your eyelids and just let your body drown in sins when suddenly, and annoyingly, you were brought back once more into reality by Jongho.

"Please do the dive for us, Ms. L/N." he gently pushed you, giving you an encouraging smile to which you could only subtly grimace at.

Here goes nothing.

You closed your eyes, held your breath and prayed, wishing for you to look like a mermaid when you enter the water. (Spoiler alert, you looked like a dying fish according to Beomgyu.)

You did your best, as you liked to think, and you really did feel like on top of the earth when Jongho himself went over to you after classes and draped a towel all over you, giving your shoulders a warm squeeze as he complimented you for your performance today.

"Great job out there, make sure to dry yourself completely so you won't get sick, yeah?" then he smiled, walking away from you before he saw your blushing face while stammering out a proper response.

He touched you. Again. Heck, he even commended you.

And he smiled at you. Again. That's like, three times now? Yeah? Right.

Oh man, looks like you're gonna go home with some delulu thoughts.. and with a wet something down there.

---------------------------------------------------

"You like that baby?" his deep voice resonated in your ears, his chest vibrating against your back as he pounded into your behind like you are nothing but his fuck toy.

You moaned at the feeling of his girth inside you, not satisfied with your lack of response, he went and pulled your hair, earning himself a delightful yelp from you.

"I asked you a question, doll."

"Y-yes, sir." you uttered a response, scalp stinging from his hair pulling but the sensation still managed to add to the pleasure.

"That's my good doll." he smirked, his thrusts getting erratic each second. "Since you're so good, I'll let you take all my cum inside, yeah?"

"Oh god-" you moaned out loud, loving the way he talks dirty to you, "Yes, please.. I-I want it all." you begged, tears already pooling at the corner of your eyes.

"Fuck-! I'm coming!"

"Jong-"

Three knocks and a yelling Beomgyu was all it took for your dream to be taken away. Right at the fucking climax.

"C'mon Y/N! Open up, stop sleeping all the time!"

"Ugh!" you groaned, jolting up with anger and shouting right back at the boy in front of your bedroom door.

"Why the fuck are you here?!"

Beomgyu snickers and invites himself into your sanctuary as soon as you opened your door, sitting on your spotless pink carpet and bringing some snacks and a suspicious piece of paper.

You raised an eyebrow, still slightly irritated that your wet dream was disrupted but curious at what storm your friend is brewing.

"Look." he says, showing you a poster along with tickets, "A guy named Yeonjun gave me this!"

"What the fuck is that and who the hell is Yeonjun?"

"A nice senior that I met in the frat!" he happily answered your questions despite the rude tone that you used. "Let's go and check this bar, I heard that they serve a lot of good shit."

"No thanks." you sassily replied, walking over your bed and sitting down on the soft sheets.

He rolled his eyes at your snappy attitude, plopping down on your bed as well, "Don't be such a killjoy!" he whined, "Besides, don't you want to find a hot guy and get laid? I know you haven't gotten a good fuck for like... I don't know? Months?"

You paused, contemplating the offer because yes.

It has been a while since you went out and had some fun. Maybe, you can blame it on that fact, that it was the reason why you're so frustrated.

Why you think and dream about him a lot.

Maybe, you do deserve a little treat after all the hard work that you're exerting for college.

"You actually made sense," you stood up and pat Beomgyu's fluffy hair, "that's nice."

He pouts and swats your hand away, "So, you in?" he excitedly asked.

"Yeah." you let out a little laugh at his childish antics when you finally agreed, pumping his fist in the air with a 'whoosh' coming out of his mouth, "It's a good way to let out some steam."

That is how you found yourself in your skimpiest outfit and hottest hair and make-up you could manage, dancing in some club named Hybe.

The place is classy to be honest. Glaring lights of different spectrum that shines through the mosaic tiles, blaring music from the most popular djs out there, and the fucking fancy drinks that they serve.

Yeah, you could let out some steam, like Beomgyu said.

But how do you do that exactly?

You sighed and excused yourself from the man that you're grinding with on the dance floor, giving some lame excuse of running out of social battery, to which he returned with a genuine smile and telling you to rest.

'What a good boy.' you think, returning to your booth and sitting down with a sigh before gulping down a glass of cocktail, eyes scanning the area with dismay.

Maybe this is a mistake, you couldn't get him out of your head and no matter how many handsome men come your way, they do not turn you on like how he does.

You groaned, burying your face on your hand when an eerily familiar voice resonated from behind you.

"Now, why is a gorgeous lady like you is alone?"

You turned around, eyes blinking slowly like a sleepy cat because surely, this is a dream. Right? Because how come that the Choi Jongho himself, is standing in front of you in all of his sexy glory.

"Oh." you both said at the same time, an awkward silence ensued that he broke himself.

"I.. uh, okay I'm sorry I didn't know."

A hobbling reason on his part but it is true.

In his defense, Jongho doesn't have any idea that it was you, he couldn't see your face directly because of the dim lighting, but he sure as hell can see your sexy as fuck figure that has been dancing away in the club for a few hours now.

He was so, so enamored that he thought, 'Hey, maybe I should go talk to her and get some good fuck tonight.' when he saw you walk back to your table.

He did not expect a familiar face to pop up, nonetheless, his student.

A student that he had been crushing on ever since he saw the way your boobs jiggle during a volleyball class. Or the way your ass looks great when doing the squats. Or your hot skin on his palms during the swimming lessons.

Still, he knows it's wrong for him to make a move on you, his moral compass going strong and the rational part of him kicks him in the shin when he sees your surprised face at his attempt at flirting.

He was about to go back after apologizing, really, but you just had to cripple his remaining sanity.

"Wait!" you unconsciously called out for him when he was about to leave, clutching the cuff of his suit and you paused, closing your eyes and praying to the gods out there to split open the floor right now and swallow you whole.

What the fuck are you doing? Damn, what will he think of you now?

Some kind of desperate slut?

"Yes?" he turned back around, an inquiring look on his face that made you think that maybe, just maybe, you could bag him, even just for tonight.

Yeah, you are a desperate slut. Only for him, though.

"You could.. stay?" you mumbled, wincing at how timid you sounded.

"What? Didn't quite catch that." he leaned down to better hear you, allowing you to inhale his manly, musky scent.

"I, uh.. uhm. I said, you could stay." you repeated, voice louder than before but for some reason, he still couldn't hear it.

"C'mon princess, speak up. Can't hear what you're tryna say."

What a menace. He did hear you perfectly and clearly, he just wants you to say it again. With more clarity, with more confidence. He kind of wants you to beg.

"Stay." you finally blurted out, finding some conviction when he called you princess, because who on earth would do that? It kind of gave you the impression that he is testing the waters with you, like an interim check whether he could spend the remaining time of his night with you.

"Please." you added, releasing his cuff with a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

He smirked, breaking the nonchalant countenance and taking a seat beside you, his arm automatically flying on your shoulders, pulling you close to him.

"That wasn't so hard now, is it?" he whispered against your ear, his hot breath in contrast with the cold atmosphere in the club tickled you just enough to leave goosebumps on your skin. Before you could retort, he removed his arm, placing it on the table and waving a waiter to serve more alcohol.

You tried to hide your disappointment at the loss of contact, humming of approval when he asked you if you wanted to drink more.

Soon, you find yourself in a buzzing state, hazy mind, lips numb and swollen from the constant biting of the man you're with.

"God, you don't know how long I've been wanting to do this." he panted against your mouth, his rough hand squeezing your breasts through your thin dress.

"Jongho." you whined, lifting your back from the mattress, "Tell me then, how long?" you taunted, brushing your nose with his.

"Ever since I saw you." he admitted, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, trailing down your neck and attacking your sweet spot once he heard you moan from the surprise contact.

Your hands flew to his hair, "Tell me more."

Jongho groaned, loving how submissive yet demanding you are.

"I wanted to kiss you." he punctuated it with a peck, "Then I wanted to touch you." he continued, deft fingers trailing down your body until he reached your bottom, cupping your heat in his large hand, "Then I wanted to take you as mine. Claim you," his hand went inside your dress, pinching your inner thigh that made you squeak, "fuck you until you're crying."

If there is one thing that you're wishing for right now is that for time to stop. You don't want this night to end.

The man that you're pining since the start of the semester is basically confessing his desire for you, and you sure as hell is eating all that up. You didn't have to know whether his words were true or not, because you'll stupidly believe him. It shows how much you like him.

No need to worry though, everything that he's saying is the realest, deepest feelings and thoughts of you.

Jongho had already noticed you from the start. The way you talk politely, the hidden sass that only shows when you're bickering with your friends, your effort and dedication in your chosen course (which he really admires). And of course, the way you look at him like you wanted him to break you.

He saw it all, he felt it all.

And he loved it.

He loved the attention from you.

Who wouldn't? Anyone would be lucky to have you. The popular, intelligent, kind and pretty girl of the university.

But you didn't have to know such details on why he's so charmed by you. What's important is that you are on his bed, and that he's about to rock your world.

"Do it." you said with finality, gripping his hair to stare right into his eyes, "Do whatever you want to me."

That was all it took for him to go feral, ripping your dress (no bra, to his delight) and delving right into your soft chest. Your protests fell on deaf ears, because you really liked that dress, but then you couldn't complain anymore when he reassured you that he'll just buy you a new, better one.

You moan when he bites between the valley of your breast, groping your right mound while he busied his mouth with sucking on your nipple.

You are hyper aware of his electrifying touch. You feel everything. From his tongue flicking on your bud, the tugging of his fingers on your nipple, and the slithering hand down your navel that reached your panties.

"What's this?" he mumbles against your boobs, circling his fingers on the wet patch of the flimsy fabric, "Didn't take you for a lace girl." he snickers, making you slap his shoulders.

"Shut up." you whine, then you realize that he's still completely clothed. "Shut up and remove this." you ordered, pulling the silk tie of his expensive looking suit.

"Aren't you a feisty one?" he raised an eyebrow, lifting himself from you when he felt like he's left enough marks on your chest area.

"I like that attitude," he says, removing the tie from his neck, "but I don't tolerate it, especially if my doll knows that she's not the one in charge here, yes?"

You gasped when he clutched your tiny wrists using only one hand, binding your hands together using the tie and connecting it to the bed post, rendering you immovable.

"Wha-!" you tried protesting, but he shushed you once more by pushing your panties inside your mouth.

Since when did he remove your underwear?

"Chin up, princess. Watch the show." he speaks in a deep, dark voice. Basically imploring you to glue your eyes on him as he started stripping himself.

He unbuttons his crisp, dress shirt sensually, sliding the clothing to his shoulders and my god, were you blown away.

You do know that he's sculpted, given that his muscles are almost always bulging from his outfits back at school, but to see him in this natural state of bareness registered something in you... he is ripped as fuck.

"Hngg." you twisted around the bed, trying to free yourself from the restraints to no avail. You wanted to touch him, make contact with his skin because watching is not enough. You need to feel him on your palm.

"What," he chuckles, tossing his shirt somewhere in the room and continues his mini strip show, "wanna have a taste of this?" he jeered, reaching for his belt and unfastening it too slowly for your liking.

You nodded your head fervently, batting your eyelashes at him in an attempt to make him give in and let you do as you please. He shook his head, removing his pants and undergarments in one go before proceeding to grab your jaw, not giving you a second to fully admire his naked body.. or his ginormous length.

"I did remember telling you to be patient, princess." he snickers at your fallen expression when you realize that you wouldn't be able to touch him as soon as possible, "Let's make a deal, yeah?"

Your eyes lightened up with hope, and in his point of view, you're so damn adorable despite the humiliating position that you're in.

"If you don't cum within five minutes of me eating you out," he finally utters, slotting himself in between your legs and dipping his fingers into your core, taking a swift sniff of how good you smell, "then you'll be free."

You gulped, not having enough conviction that you won't cum in five minutes because it's been too long. It's been a while since a man touched you, and you're afraid that one swipe of his tongue will immediately edge you. But for fucks sake, you have to try in order to get what you want.

You nodded again, making eye contact with him with determination, a proud smile on his face before going down town on you without much of a warning. Giving your sopping core a long lick, easily finding your bundle of nerves and sucking on it.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to cum. You tell yourself not to give in, even if his tongue traces all the shapes in your clit, even if his wet appendage goes deep into your cunt, even if the slurping noises are making you crazy.

"Ah fuck this." he cursed, inserting two of his fingers inside and curling them mercilessly, hitting all the right spots.

"Go ahead and cum, princess. Lemme taste you." he mumbles against your clit, sending nice vibrations that add to the pleasure, "Don't worry, I'll remove the tie later." he convinces you, not wanting to do the deal anymore because you're too irresistible. Giving oral like a madman is not sufficient, he needed to feel your insides as well, to give him an idea on how tight you are.

"Cum on my tongue, baby."

You writhed around the mattress, gushing around his tongue and fingers. Complaining when he didn't stop swiping his tongue on your pussy, the overstimulation getting to you.

"Sorry, sorry. Here let me." he laughs, showing his gummy smile that doesn't match the situation but still, the lights outside the house that shines through the window were adequate to let you see his amazing visuals.

He untied your wrists and got rid of the gag, giving you an apologetic smile as he rubs your red skin, probably from the harsh pulling that you did. "Got carried away." he explains, making you giggle at his sudden cute attitude, leaning up and giving him a quick peck.

"It's okay." you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down on you, "Besides, we have better things to do." pushing the innuendo behind your sentence by lifting your hips, grinding against his hardness.

He hissed at the sensation, "You really do know how to rile me up." he smirks, finally positioning himself, sliding his cock in between your folds to gather some slick, "Hope you don't regret this in the morning."

You rolled your eyes, "Oh, I won- Ah!" you wailed when he went inside you in one go, immediately thrusting in an animalistic pace without letting you adjust first.

He hits the right spot when he shifts his hips a bit, the tip of his cock brushing on your g-spot so perfectly, "Oh god! Right there! Jong-" he cuts you off again, sliding his hand on your neck and choking you, shaking his head in disappointment.

"That's not how you should call me, Ms. L/N." he whispers in your ear in a condescending tone, and in a state of lust with the pressure of his hand on your neck, everything that is happening around you seems to arouse you more.

"S-sir," you panted, your nails scratching his back when he slowed down his pace, waiting for you to finish your sentence, "please don't slow down. Fuck me harder."

Jongho took a deep breath, how could he even resist you and say no when you're this pretty under him?

"That's my good girl." he grunts, pistoning inside you and holding your hips in a bruising grip, your angelic moans motivates him to do more.

The embarrassing loud squelches and skin slapping from where the both of you are connected echoed through your ears, stupefying you even more from the lewdness that surrounds the four corners of the room. Each thrust of his hits the perfect spot inside you, and your sensitivity makes you feel even the prominent vein on his thick length.

You chanted his name, Sir Jongho, as he liked to be called, signalling him that you're close, as if you, clenching around his cock still isn't enough to give him the sign.

"Close?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, sweat falling from his forehead down to your cheeks, further pounding into you with much force if that's even possible when you gave him the green light, not having the proper ability to speak.

"Go ahead, baby. Cum." he egged you on, leaning down to suck on your neck while his hand went to your clit and rubbed it harshly, pushing his cock back and forth with vigor, making it his mission to turn you into a mess.

"God, Jongho!" you howled, cupping his face and kissing him deeply, and that's what made you cum, the intimacy of the contact. Your lips on his in a chaotic, open mouthed kiss where your teeth clashed and tongued meshed around with each other.

He groaned against your mouth, releasing his seeds in your gummy walls when he felt your insides wrap around him tightly. As much as he wanted to prolong the intercourse, the pleasure was too much to handle.

That's how good you felt, he guesses.

A few minutes of silence, with only your heavy breathings can be heard passed, coming down from your highs. You felt his weight on you, but you were too spent to care. His warmth lulls you into dreamland, then everything is black.

---------------------------------------------------

You stirred around the bed, feeling icky and sore, and when you went to hug what you assumed was a pillow, you were mortified.

Since when did your pillow, an inanimate object, have the capacity to hug you back?

You slowly open your eyes, seeing a different ceiling, and surely this is not the scent that you are accustomed to.

Again, since when did your room smelled like wood and spices? You recalled it, crystal clear, that cherry blossoms and vanilla are your go to scents.

Then you hear someone's breathing, the mortifying reality draws near when you decided to turn your head from the figure beside you.

Shit.

You bit your lip, panicking but you ultimately opted to be rational for once in your life, trying to calm yourself and rethink what the heck happened last night.

You remember begging him to stay with you at the booth, drinking shot after shot until you were wasted out of your mind.

"Alright, I think we need to get you home." Jongho chuckles, stopping you from downing the cocktail. Sensing that you had enough alcohol for the night.

"Noo!" you whined, reaching for the glass in his hand, "And I don't wanna go home yet!" you cried out, clinging into his arm.

Who knew you were this childish when you're drunk, he ain't complaining though, Jongho thinks that you're like a lovely, sweet piece of candy in this state.

"Come on, princess." dropping a wad of cash on the table (payment and tip) and helping you get up.

It was bearable for the most part, you were like a feather in his arms, light and airy, but the hardest part of the short journey to his car was your incessant mewling and your very obvious actions of seducing him.

"Oh wow!" you exclaimed, drunkenly looking around his luxurious vehicle, "You're fucking rich." you tittered at the newfound information, touching the leather covering of the seat, "You're hot, handsome, sexy, and rich? What a catch."

Jongho's posture stiffened, avoiding your sultry gaze by taking a deep breath to calm his libido down, inserting his keys and getting ready to drive.

"Thanks." he says without much emotion, "Now tell me your address so you can rest."

"Ugh." you rolled your eyes, leaning over to his side and you didn't miss the way he ogled at your exposed legs and cleavage, "I told you I don't wanna go home yet."

"Then what do you want to do?" he sighs, running a hand through his hair (which you find really attractive), exasperated at the situation. Seriously, you're making this difficult for him.

You gripped his face and forced him to look at you, his eyes widening at your daring initiative to make a move on him. His adam apple moved when he took a gulp, and that made you fancy him more.

"I want to kiss you," you admitted, hands moving down to his chest, his eyes wandering on your lips, "then I want you to fuck me like you mean it."

There goes his sanity, crashing his mouth on top of yours in a heated lip lock, lifting you up easily and placing you on his lap. Despite the cramped space, you two managed to fit, and it only made the scene hotter.

"Let's continue this at my place, yeah?" he asked, moving away from you and returning to his previous position in the driver's seat.

You were in Choi Jongho's car. You made out with him. He took you to his place. You fucked each other... and now you wanted to slap yourself because of your stupidity. How could you even let yourself make a mistake, goodness, you really need to control your horny ass.

Then you made up your mind, yep. You'll escape then act like nothing happened. Yeah, that's a great idea! Genius.

You moved like a turtle, attempting to wiggle away but you were stopped by his strong arms, pulling you flush on his chest.

"Finally you're awake." his gruff voice in the morning stirred something inside you and for the second time, you had to remind yourself to not let your hormones dictate your actions.

"I'm sorry!" you don't know what you're apologizing for, but you do know that whatever you did and said last night was inappropriate, given that he was the one who talked to you first, it was you who persuaded him to have sex with you.

"I'll leave for now then I will pay for the drinks last n-" he puts a finger on your lips, shushing you as he puts a strand of your stray hair behind your ear.

"Don't worry, I'll pay for your drinks at the bar from now on. I'll even let you do your fantasies on me. Just do me a favor angel," you stared into his orbs, sleepy yet warm, "keep this between us."

And that is how you find yourself every weekend on the bar (that he, surprisingly, owns), wearing the dresses he bought you, drinking free alcoholic beverages and at the end of it all, your limbs are entangled with his. Passionate 'lovemaking' as he liked to call it.

You love the thrill of this forbidden romance.

Sneaking kisses behind closed doors, hugging each other goodbye whenever he insists to drives you home, sucking him under the table while he did his best to talk to a student that needs his help, then fucking you on the said table, right on top of the papers he's checking.

He made you happy, and you know you make him happy as well, you can see it in his eyes. But it was more evident on you, as Beomgyu pointed out how 'bright' you are that the shift kind of scares him.

You only brushed it off with a smile, telling him that you're only taking care of yourself. Even if you badly want to tell him the whole story, you suppressed it, keeping your promise with Jongho intact as to not ruin both of your reputations. Besides, only a few months left before your original PE teacher returns, then you can let loose. Announce the blossoming relationship with Jongho without any care in the world.

---------------------------------------------------

"No."

One word. It only took him one word to stain your proposal and plant a seed of doubt in your brain.

"What?" you scoffed, crossing your arms in disbelief, "What do you mean no? Are you ashamed of me?" you accused, hurt at his blatant rejection at the idea of becoming official after his contract in your university.

"No, of course not baby, listen to me," he cupped your face gently, "I'm sorry, we'll talk about this tomorrow, alright? I'm kind of stressed right now because of all the work." he smiles, giving the crown of your head a peck.

You sighed and held his hands that are still on your face, rubbing your thumb on his skin, "Okay." you resigned, trusting him with all your heart.

Come next day and everything shattered. Your trust, your heart, your world.. cluttered on his palms.

You were casually humming a tune you've heard on spotify, a pep in your steps as you walked leisurely to Jongho's office, ready to continue the conversation with him from yesterday.

Then you were frozen in your position as you heard the topic from the principal's office by accident. You weren't a nosy person, but hearing his name sparked a troubling curiosity within you.

"Mr. Choi, we really appreciate you. I was even thinking of making you a regular here." your principal speaks, but his next words brought a ringing sound in your ears, messing with you, mentally and emotionally.

"Too bad, you're about to be married soon, and abroad too!"

You heard Jongho chuckle, but that's not all, a honeyed voice laughed as well. A woman's voice.

You couldn't help but take a peek inside, and there he was, the man that you have feelings for, with a girl beside him.

A prettier, sexier, older girl. Someone who looks like she got her shit together.

Someone who is better than you in all aspects.

"Actually, me and my fiancé thought of getting married here," the lady placed her hand on Jongho's chest, leaning her head on his left shoulder, "but he insisted on getting married in Paris! Isn't he a romantic one?"

She giggled like a goddamned witch (that's all in your head because right now, you're full of hatred), and then, at that moment, the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Why he wanted to keep your relationship a secret.

Why wasn't he keen on taking the title as your boyfriend.

Because you are not the main, not the original, you are the other girl.

The other girl that everyone despised. The one that you read on tiktok and stories, the home wrecker.

On this occasion, you kind of also loathed yourself. Only there to make him satisfied, to keep him company. You're convenient, but right now, you're thrown out of the picture because his one and only is here.

You've had enough of this bullshit.

You were about to turn around, ready to drown yourself in sadness and self-pity, but then you made eye contact with him. His eyes widened, dread obvious in his features. Despite the tears making your eyes glassy, you willed yourself to stand up against his betrayal, giving him a hard glare as if telling him, 'I hope you're happy, you traitor, don't show yourself in front of me ever again.'

Then you walked away, your back straightened and with your chin up. Certainly, you are not about to ruin yourself, not like this.

On the other hand, Jongho was quick to excuse himself from the meeting, giving some lame excuse and running after you, seeing you walking down an empty hallway.

'Perfect.' he thought, speeding towards your direction, catching you by your wrist and turning you around so suddenly that it gave you a whiplash. Upon meeting his worried face, you immediately pushed him away, the anger in your face that once held love for him squeezed at his heart.

"Y/N, let me explain. I-"

"Shut the fuck up." you rudely cut him off, balling your fist on your sides to prevent yourself from doing something that you'll regret.

"Please, give me a chance to explain." he pleads, but the more you hear his voice, the more it makes you feel worse.

Honestly, you just want to go home and cry. Pathetic, definitely, but you couldn't care less, you had to get these negative feelings out of your system.

"Didn't you hear me?" your voice shakes, but you continue regardless, you are about to give him a piece of your mind.

"I said shut up. It's not worth it, you're not worth it."

A look of hurt flashed on his visage and it somehow sparked something in your pride because that's good, you want your words to pierce through him like a knife. You want to give him pain as well.

"Don't say that, Y/N, I-" he starts bargaining again, to which you blocked again with a sarcastic laugh.

"Oh, I'll say what I want to say. Don't tell me what to do, Sir Jongho." you specifically emphasized the petname that you would usually use inside the bedroom to give him a sense of what he had done.

"Will you please just let me say something?!" he whisper yelled, frustrated at your attitude.

You raised an eyebrow, the audacity of this man to act like a hotshot when he's the one in the wrong here.

"The floor's all yours then. Talk." you challenged him, only for him to turn silent, gaping like a fish in front of you because really, he went here without any prior thoughts.

"What are you waiting for?!" you yelled, raising your hands in defeat, worn out from this dumb confrontation.

What is he even gonna say though?

That he's sorry you caught him? He's sorry for hurting you and all that shit.

He knew what he was doing, he's not a kid, but he went through it all for the sake of adventure. You are a territory he trespassed, and he's about to pay the consequences.

"I really did like you. This," he pointed between you and him, "it's real."

He hung his head low, not having it in him to face you.

Real your ass.

"You like me?" you asked, hating the way he earnestly nodded his head, "If you really did like me, then you wouldn't make me do this." you stepped towards his figure, the eerily calm tone you're using doesn't sit well with him.

"If you like me, then you would've been honest with me." you jarringly shoved him.

"If you like me, then you should have not given me any hope that I have a chance with you."

Another shove.

"If you like me, then why the fuck do you have to put me in this position?!" you sobbed, giving him a last miserable shove. He accepted all of it, unmoving on his spot on the floor, watching you break down.

"You like me... but you love her. Right?"

"I do."

Well, that was a slap on your face. Of course he loves her, enough to break your heart. Enough to not choose you.

"Y/N, I'm truly sorry."

"No, you're not." you looked at him one last time, "Being guilty doesn't mean that you're sorry."

Then you're gone, leaving him in the hallway while he's having an internal battle with himself.

---------------------------------------------------

"Dude , what the fuck?" Beomgyu scrunches his nose, watching you mope around for the past few weeks. He picked up a used shirt from your floor, grimacing when something sticky adhered on his fingers.

"Go away." your muffled voice sounded from under your sheets, making him sigh in defeat and sitting down on your bed. He sets his hand on your foot that was sticking out of your blanket, giving it a tender massage.

"You know, you need to help yourself in order to move on." his soothing tone smoothens the scowl on your features, lifting your blanket from your body and facing your bestfriend.

"I know that." you mumbled sadly, "I know that.. but it's easier said than done."

After your 'break-up' with Jongho, you two went your separate ways.

You did all that you can to avoid him, the PE classes were hell and most of the time, you pretended to be sick so you won't have to attend the lessons and see his face. His presence alone made you want to throw up.

When he's gone for good, there was a moment of desperation within you, wishing that he'll call you. Hoping that maybe, he'll realize that you're the one for him. Praying that he'll choose you instead, that he'll come back to you, begging for one more chance.

All of those went down the drain when you stalked his social media, photos and videos of his extravagant wedding all over the feed, and you couldn't help but cry.

That girl in the gorgeous, white dress could've been you. It should've been you, the one he's saying his vows to, promising to protect with all his might. It would've been you, the one he will love until he's grey and old.

Although you know, right from the start, it was never you.

The denial stage was better than the acceptance stage, this shit is by far the worst you have ever gone through.

Like they all say, facts do really hurt.

You're trying your best to heal, but the insecurities are gnawing at you. Unanswered questions kept you up all night, the dark bags under your eyes are the tell tale sign of it.

You blinked when Beomgyu sighs again, bringing you out of your stupor.

"Come on up." he says, pulling you up suddenly, throwing a hoodie on your face, "Let's go somewhere."

You groaned, "No." you muttered under your breath, proceeding to lie back on the comfort of your bed to no avail, since Beomgyu, being the stronger one, dragged you down with him until you were out of the house.

"My god!" you protested, pulling away from him with a half-hearted angry glare, "You can't just drag me like that!"

"I can and I will!" he yelled back, glaring at you with the same amount of heat that you're radiating.

"And why is that?" you raised your eyebrows, putting your arms on your hips like a mom demanding an explanation.

“Because I care.” he whispers, and you completely hear it. You did think that your ears are playing some kind of game, but then Beomgyu repeated the sentence with more conviction.

“Beomgyu.. I, what do you mean by that?”

“You don’t need to think too much about it.” he started to voice out his thoughts, which was a bombshell since your friend, in spite of his stubbornness and motor mouth, rarely displays what he really feels, “I’m just tired of seeing you like this, you know?” he looks into your eyes, waiting if you’ll retort or something, but when he sees that you’re waiting for him to finish, he goes ahead and takes the opportunity to speak.

“It’s not like you to mope around because of some guy who can’t treat you right. I know, it’s difficult but I can’t stand seeing you so hopeless.. I, this is not the Y/N that I know and love.”

Your breathing hitched, ‘Is he?’

Beomgyu took your hand in his, the familiar coziness of his skin against yours somehow gave you a sense of solace, a feeling that he always brought with him whenever he’s with you.

“You’re not alone, alright? So let’s go get some ice cream, my treat.” he smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but beam back, pouncing at him so suddenly that he almost stumbled back. Thankfully, his balance and core are great, so no one was hurt at the collision.

“Thank you.” you mumbled, giving some space and intertwining your fingers with his, “I appreciate this so much.”

His eyes softened, the bright yet soft orange hue of the sunset cascades on his side profile, further highlighting his charms (how on earth are you only noticing this now is another mystery for you to solve.)

“I appreciate you too,” his eyes crinkled, a mischievous glint on his brown orbs as he disconnected your hands and ran away from you, “only after you shower though.” he shouts, laughing like a maniac.

You were left dumbfounded, of course he’ll find a way to ruin such a sweet moment.

Still, it wouldn’t be as fun as he didn’t. So you chased after him, ready to punch him in the gut for the playful remark he threw at you.

“Beomgyu you dick! Come back here!”

---------------------------------------------------

taglist:

@hyuckilstan @gwenchwana @minkiflwr @bloomingsann @btsreader12 @hwadump @songmingisthighs @isaluvvs @minkysmilk @jngwyz @fairygirl18 @jcngh0-hq @justyoonsworld @v-lvs-yungi

a/n: last one down! tysm for all the people who read and supported this set of fics (even if i slowed down in the middle) i really, really appreciate you all!! thank you for all the feedbacks and comments!! 💜💜

NEXT UP! ATEEZ MINISODE SERIES!

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merakiui · 1 year

Text

yandere!Azul thought 4: what starts as a contract for no strings attached intimacy soon turns into something complicated when you find yourself swept up in a certain cecaelia’s charm, unaware of just how deep his love swims.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, female reader, contractual fwb, mention of blackmail, attempted sexual assault (from nameless student, not azul), obsession, pregnancy mentions, characters written as 18+)

“It’ll be easier if you stop struggling,” Floyd grumbles, his fingers digging into your arm with so much force you think he might snap the bone. “Jaaade, tell our shrimpy to stop squirming so much!”

Jade smiles at his brother’s whining, feigning blissful ignorance to your current predicament. “It would be in your best interest to relax. Broken limbs are not a pleasant experience.”

“Neither is kidnapping! I already told you I didn’t do anything. I never even signed a contract.”

“Not yet.” He peers down at you, challenging you with a single yellow eye. “Although we can’t ignore it when a precious friend fails to heed Azul’s summons. That’s not very polite, is it? And since you’ve chosen to be oh-so-cruel, we have no choice but to resort to similar treatment.”

You gaze into his mismatched eyes, brows furrowed in annoyance. “You’re the worst.”

“I don’t think you qualify as the best in this scenario.”

“Azul just wants to have a simple chat with you. No need to be such a meanie,” Floyd adds, forcing you upright when you begin to drag your feet. His sharp teeth wink at you when he grins, and it’s enough of a threat to cow you into temporary submission.

As you allow yourself to be escorted through the grand, aquatic halls of Octavinelle, where you pass fellow dorm members going about their day through a magnificent glass tunnel, you know deep in your heart that this ‘simple chat’ will be anything but simple. They hardly pay you any mind; most avert their eyes as to not get caught up in whatever nonsense you’re currently bound to. The Leech twins are enough of a repellant. Stay away if you value your skeletal structure and unblemished skin, their combined presence boasts. You stare at the ocean that sprawls beyond the confines of the dorm, its depths dark and spiraling and tempting.

I wonder how much force you’d have to apply to the glass before it shatters, you think, coveting a means of acquiring superhuman strength to test your curiosity. Maybe the glass can’t be broken after all and I’d end up looking as graceful as a mer-turned-human trying to walk on land for the first time.

You’ve learned that it’s not so frightening to be approached by the Leech twins when you’re on pleasant terms and they’re not actively tugging you along like you’re nothing more than a weightless rag doll. Unfortunately, this is their usual treatment of those who try to evade payment or break the terms of their contracts. Even though you haven’t done anything of the sort, they’re still pulling you into the gilded lair that is the Mostro Lounge. Apparently—according to your most benevolent friends at Octavinelle—ghosting Azul is just as sinful as cheating your way out of a contract.

You try to stay away from the suspicious dealings that happen in Azul’s VIP room when you can, but it’s only a matter of time before it catches up to you. Perhaps this is your day of reckoning and you ought to start counting your blessings and penning a will with what little time you have left.

Aside from ignoring him, you’re not sure why he would be so insistent on meeting with you. Azul’s ire is not something you wish to toy with, lest you enjoy the coils of two dangerous eels. You surmise you’ll get your answer to every burning question once you’re seated in front of him, listening to the twins’ footsteps as they click out the door.

There’s no time to get a breath in before Azul’s own confidence fills the room like hot air, stifling any excuses you might’ve had at the ready. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and, with the lenses glinting under the dazzling light, he declares, “Let’s make a deal.”

What a greeting. He’s really something. You’d throttle him if you could, but then you’d probably find yourself at Floyd’s mercy as he returns the favor.

“Not happening.”

Azul sighs and runs a hand through his silver hair, so deceptively soft it reminds you of clouds and candy floss and cotton—gentle things that shouldn’t contain razor blades. And yet, when it comes to Azul, he’s a sea sponge full of hidden tricks and sharp objects. But right now he’s not wearing his fedora or coat, and he’s a portrait of defeat as he looks into your eyes. An inkling of sympathy bubbles up in your chest. It must be tough managing academics, a café, and everyone’s wishes in order to maintain a benevolent façade. But you know better than to feel bad for Azul Ashengrotto—someone who would trade you in an instant if it was to his benefit. So you find yourself slumping in the chair, no longer interested in the deal he’s trying to proposition or the sad image he’s carefully manufactured for your discerning eyes.

I should’ve known this was his goal. Was it really worth dragging me out of Ramshackle for?

“I ask that you hear me out.”

“If you had Jade and Floyd bring me here—against my will, might I add—just so you could get me to sign one of your scummy contracts…”

“I can assure you it will be worth your while.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh. “All right. Fine. But make it quick. I’m hungry.”

It can’t hurt to hear him out. Or so you think.

He grins, but there’s something lurking in his elated countenance that puts you on edge. He leans forward, hands steepled and elbows propped on the surface of his desk. Azul is in his element—a businessman profiting from shiny half-truths, and you’re the poor soul he’s ready to entrap.

“It seems you run a special sort of…trade among the student body here.”

You raise a brow. If he intends to squash your side hustle, you won’t allow it.

“Don’t tell me the services I’m offering are stealing your customers.”

“Certainly not.” He chuckles, but the amusement does not reach his eyes. “Sex sells. I couldn’t possibly compete with such a grand industry.”

“Get to the point, Azul.”

“Very well. I would like to enlist your services for myself.”

“I’m guessing there’s more to it than that. Let’s see the contract, then.”

Its golden shine nearly blinds you, so bright you could mistake it for a miniature sun. The terms have been written in neat, curling script. At the very bottom of the document that tempting line sits, empty and awaiting a signature. You scan the words, but none of them truly register within your mind.

“You had a field day writing this one,” you mutter. “If you wanted a handjob, you could’ve just asked. I shouldn’t have to sign a contract for a simple exchange.”

Octavinelle’s charitable Housewarden bristles at your forthright statement. “That is not the point! Did you even read the clauses outlined in the contract?”

“Not really. Care to elaborate?” You bat your eyelashes at him, lips turning downward in an innocent pout.

Rolling his eyes, he says, “In exchange for your services, I will grant any wish or desire you may have. Whatever it is—no matter how complicated or outrageous it seems—I’ll see to it.”

You swipe the contract from off his desk and read through it closely. This time the sentences click and you eye him with suspicion. “In other words, you want casual sex. This wouldn’t be a one-time thing.”

“If you consider it from both sides, it’s mutually beneficial. Sexual endeavors have been proven to reduce stress, improve one’s mental and physical health, and—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get that, but I’d only be servicing you. According to this clause, I wouldn’t be allowed to see anyone else for however long this deal lasts.”

“That’s only fair, is it not? If I dedicate my time to meeting your demands, you should dedicate your time to servicing me.”

“That’s not how this works. Besides, if I wanted to toe the line of lustful romance I’d have come to you already.”

“Oh? Are you saying I’m a prime candidate for what you humans call ‘holiday flings’? Well, (Name), I’m honored. Truly. You know you can always come to me if—”

“And now you’ve made it to the bottom of the list. Congrats.”

You glance at the contract once more and frown. There’s no denying that some of these terms are questionable. Not only are you unable to service the other students, you’d also have to keep the relationship a secret. You suppose Azul still wants to retain his current reputation without the tarnish that comes with a contractual fuck buddy. Who are you to decline, though? It would be reasonable if it weren’t for Azul’s tendency to cheat others and find tight loopholes to slip through. And he’s attractive enough. It’s a tempting exchange: sex for money, food, academic help, anything at all.

“Is there a limit to the amount of wishes you’re willing to grant?”

“We’ll do it this way—one wish for every meeting. You’re free to be as greedy as you’d like with your wishes. I suggest you make the most of this offer. It’s only available for a limited time.”

“Huh. That’s…weirdly generous of you.”

“I’m delighted you think so.” He indicates the pot of ink sitting atop his desk. “Well? Are the terms acceptable? If they are, just sign on the line and it’ll be a done deal.”

“Hold on. I never said I’d sign your contract. It’s not a bad offer, but I don’t want to subject myself to your wrath or the Leech brothers’ methods of…negotiation if I break any of the terms. I like my bones healthy and intact, thank you.” You set the contract scroll back on his desk, content with your decision. It’s better to play it safe, no matter how intrigued you are. “If you really want it, just pay me and we can—”

“That’s not enough,” he snaps. You’re not sure if you heard correctly because moments later his dark expression brightens and all traces of envy vanish like a curtain of rain parting to reveal a rainbow. “I understand your hesitance, considering my reputation has its shadows. But what is a risk without its possible reward? I can assure you these terms are honest and sincere. It’s in the writing, after all.”

“So it’s just a contract for sex? I don’t have to act like your girlfriend or anything?”

“Not unless you want to.”

Your narrowed gaze pierces him, as if to peer at the core of his soul, but you can’t dissect his angle. It’s difficult to imagine Azul’s contracts as straightforward deals with no strings attached, but then again he’s still just like the rest of the students here. He has his own cravings and you’re the only female on campus, a blessing that has come with its fair share of boons. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to go through with this. You might even be able to procure lots of premium tuna for Grim and some promising study guides for your friends, who most certainly need it after their most recent scores.

“If I sign this contract, how long would this arrangement last?”

“Two months.”

“Two months,” you parrot slowly, tasting each letter. “Two months?”

“Is that not agreeable? I’m certain I can offer you much more than whatever pocket change the others give you.”

It’s a fair point. You’re not trying to sell yourself cheap, but you’re not picky either. You’re willing to accept any form of payment, even though Madol is always preferred. After all, you need to make enough for you and Grim to be able to afford the expenses of campus life. This deal with Azul could easily solve some of the monetary issues you’re facing, especially since Grim’s bottomless stomach is the reason your budget is dwindling.

He sits there, hands clasped, and waits patiently for your reply. Awkward tension thickens in the air as the both of you stare at one another, challenging the other to speak up. Eventually, Azul decides to fill in the empty silence with his own smooth voice.

“In exactly two months, it’ll be the fourteenth of February. Or, coincidentally enough, Valentine’s Day. That is when this deal shall come to an end, regardless of where we may stand. You won’t owe anything. That’s something I can promise.”

“Not unless I violate the terms. Speaking of which, some of them are…strange.” You indicate a specific clause hidden amongst the paragraphs of swirling cursive. “Like this one. I’m not allowed to say ‘I love you’ once the contract has been signed. Why’s that?”

Azul follows your pointing finger and hums as he reviews the paragraph. “It would be troublesome if you fell for me. Using that pretty voice of yours to confess your true feelings—what a devious scandal! All of the students who lust after you would be utterly heartbroken and we can’t have that now, can we? It’s best if you keep your voice for other admissions, lest you find it locked away for all of eternity.”

“You really hold yourself high, don’t you? I’m not in love with you, so don’t flatter yourself.”

It’s difficult to make out most of the words in that clause because they’re all bunched up and connected with fancy loops and curls. Even though you consider yourself to be somewhat decent at interpreting cursive, the writing on this contract is almost foreign to your eyes. You’re not quite sure what happens if those three words are spoken, but it can’t be anything positive if it’s outlined so extensively.

“It’s all right if you refuse,” he adds. “Although it would be a shame if your private endeavors intersected with your school life. Good grades are not easy to come by if you slack, but I’m sure you’re aware of this.” His smile is sharp and wicked. You feel it’ll cut into you if you stare for too long. “Should you find yourself in the academic deep end, you’re more than welcome to come to me. I’ll always be here to assist you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“It would be even more unfortunate if the fools who believe in your fake love learned of your nonexistent loyalty.” He tilts his head, amusement waltzing across his face like a ballerina on a glittering stage. “Photographic evidence is very reliable. I wonder how fast those bridges will burn once they realize you’re only with them for materialistic gain. Love is not easy to come by, but you seem to dish it out with ease. Isn’t that curious?”

“Now you’re just reaching. You don’t have any photos.”

“Perhaps you’re correct and this serves as an empty threat meant to coerce you into signing.” He pushes the pot of ink towards your reaching hand, fishbone pen within your grasp. “But that also means there’s still a chance they exist. It would be fry’s play to let something so fragile slip from my hands. I imagine every romantic who’s clung to you like seaweed won’t enjoy the sight. A scorned man is rather troublesome, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Some of them pay a lot! I need that money. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

Who am I kidding? Of course he’d do that to me.

“It can be avoided, so long as you provide your signature. A small price to pay to prevent irreparable damage.”

Seconds tick between the two of you. Your gaze drifts from him to the contract.

It’s not so bad, the tiny voice in the back of your head pipes up, and you don’t have the heart to smother it. It speaks nothing but the truth. Two months can get you a lot. Expensive things, Grim’s premium tuna, yummy snacks, resources to cover rent and maintenance... And all you’d have to do is spend an hour or two with him.

“Okay. All right. Fine! Two months and that’s it.” You swipe the pen from his desk, dip its pointed tip in the ink, and scrawl your name on the line. “You’re lucky I’m desperate.”

“Desperation is a businessman’s closest ally.” He meets your fierce glower with a bright smile. The contract is snatched from your hands and rolled up, an important document that will no doubt find its home in the darkness of his vault. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you. I look forward to what’s to come.”

You wish you could say the same.

Two months. It’s an odd timeframe for something that shouldn’t have an exact timeframe at all, but this is purely contractual and you can’t expect this exchange with Azul to last forever. You suppose that if you accept your temporary fate and agree to the role you’re meant to play the days will pass quickly—fleeting moments that dissolve like sugar on your tongue. And it might even be enjoyable if you focus on the good things rather than the dangers lurking beneath the charming surface.

Azul calls you into his VIP room four days later. It’s quite the hassle walking to the Hall of Mirrors and excusing yourself from every conversation that springs upon you. You never realized just how many guys you’ve formed one-sided relationships with, and it’s a thought that lingers in your mind as you polish off what remains of a bag of gummy candies.

By the time you’ve arrived at the Mostro Lounge, seated before Azul and awaiting a command like a well-trained pet, you’re already reflecting on the contrition that comes with hasty decisions.

Let this be a lesson learned, you tell yourself. Think a little more before acting.

“So.” You admire the shell lamp on his desk, if only to occupy yourself. It curls into a smooth, cream-colored spiral. “What do you want? Office sex? A blowjob? Want me to hold your hand while you work through all that paperwork? I’m good at moral support, you know.”

He narrows his eyes at you, unamused. “The winter holiday is approaching. I’m assuming you have no plans.”

“None at all. You’ll probably go back to the Coral Sea, won’t you?”

“I’d rather not deal with the ice and frigid, sunless waters unless it’s absolutely necessary. Besides, I couldn’t leave you here while we’re in the midst of an arrangement. What sort of gentleman would I be?”

“How chivalrous.” You roll your eyes. “But it’s boring to stay on campus if everyone’s going home for the holidays.”

“Are you proposing we go somewhere?”

"It would be fun. I’ll bring Grim and we can go somewhere cozy. You can make that happen, right?”

“Of course I can,” he says flatly. “Must you bring that nuisance, though?”

“Grim’s my friend. You can bring Jade and Floyd if you want. I don’t care.”

His gaze shifts from you to the papers littering his desktop and you realize you’ve lost him.

“Or we could go. Just the two of us. Make it a private trip…” Every syllable is like acid in your mouth. “A resort would be nice.”

“Most resorts are booked for the holidays. It would be difficult to make a reservation now.”

“Then we’ll stay here.”

Somehow this feels more like a discussion between indecisive lovers instead of two acquaintances who are now contractual friends with benefits. Perhaps this entire act is nothing more than a circus and you’ll be destined to spend the next two months with a metaphorical clown nose and a gnawing sense of idiocy.

“If you’re truly invested in a resort trip, I could see what’s available. The timing is poor, but there’s always a way around these things.”

“It’s not a big deal. Staying here won’t be so bad either.” You fidget in your seat, not accustomed to casual talk with Azul. The both of you aren’t best friends, but you aren’t complete strangers either. You were there to witness his rise and fall firsthand and it’s something that brought the two of you slightly closer in the aftermath. But you wouldn’t say that you hang out with him as often as you do with your other friends. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

Azul glances up at you from his paperwork, pen poised in his delicate hand. “Not quite. We have yet to discuss boundaries.”

“I think I’d be okay with anything as long as it’s safe and we talk about it beforehand. What about you?”

“Anything related to my mer form is off the table.”

It sounds like he might add ‘for now’ to that sentence, but he shuts his mouth and continues to write.

“That’s fine. As long as you’re comfortable.” You flash him an encouraging smile. “If it makes you feel better, we can take this thing slowly. We have two whole months, after all.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a terrible idea...”

“We don’t have to rush into anything if you’re uncertain...or inexperienced.” Your compassionate grin quickly morphs into a playful smirk. “Making a fool out of yourself wouldn’t be a good look for you, would it? An inexperienced Azul must be a marvelous sight to behold.”

“I enlisted your services, not a clownfish who likes to run her mouth,” he says with a scoff. “And I’m plenty experienced, I’ll have you know.”

“With your hands and imagination, I’m sure.” He shoots you another look and you raise your arms in surrender, a laugh spilling from your lips. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be serious from now on.”

“You are so—” He shakes his head. “Honestly...”

The way in which he practically sighs the word sparks an odd sort of curiosity within you. You’ve never been privy to Azul behind closed doors—the Azul who tears his heavily guarded walls down when he has no need for masks. If you could pry him open like a clam and peer at the vulnerable pearl that lies within, you might come to understand him more than you did before. You hope that’s what you’ll glean from doing so because even though you’re bound to him via contract you want to get a better analysis of him.

“We have to start somewhere,” you say, admiring the way his hand moves effortlessly across paper. You’d like to charm him into comfort because, despite the nature of this agreement, you wish to be comfortable, too.

He risks a sideways glance at you, trapped between paperwork and persuasion. His fingers tighten around his pen ever so slightly and you don’t miss his searching eyes as they come to rest on your lips. You shed all of your apprehensions at once because this is business and you can’t let fear cloud your sensibility as you move forward in your performance, seeking his approval and satisfaction. A deal is a deal, after all, and your signature is a testament to that.

No turning back now.

“Do your kisses taste like salt, or will they be sweet like sugar?” It’s a silly question—an icebreaker, if anything—but it has him quirking a halfhearted smile. Part of you hopes he’ll divulge more details on the nature of his kisses, even if the act of kissing is something you’re well-versed in and have done enough times for it to be routine.

“You’ll have to decide for yourself.”

You rise from your seat. Each deliberate step brings you closer to Azul until, eventually, you’re standing before him like a sinner on trial. He gazes up at you and there is a hint of subdued anticipation in his expression. When his hand finds the small of your back, your fingers ghost over it and guide it to your waist. Azul squeezes your hip, almost experimentally, before he yanks you onto his lap.

You lean in until your nose is touching his, legs straddling him, and wrap your arms around his neck.

“This is okay, right?”

“Of course,” he murmurs, nearly dazed as his fingers trace your hip, mapping the curvature like a painter’s expert brushstroke. “It’s more than okay.”

“Captivated so soon? I guess my charm really is irresistible.”

You wink at him and he responds by tilting his head to seal the distance between the two of you. His kisses do not taste of the briny, tumultuous ocean. Rather, they taste of tea and you envision an overgrown field of wildflowers as you savor the floral notes on his lips. His other hand comes to rest upon your back as he holds you against him, unwilling to let your bodies part, and your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers running through silvery locks with exploratory intent. Azul sighs into your mouth, melting like a glacier.

“Well?” His lips are centimeters from yours. You curl a strand of his hair around your finger, enchanted by its softness. “What’s your deduction?”

“Tea. And not the cheap kind.”

His trademark smirk tugs at his lips. “You taste of…candy.” As a cheeky afterthought, he adds, “The cheap kind.”

“You’re right on the money, but maybe the benevolent Azul Ashengrotto is okay with cheap.” You pluck his glasses from his face and gingerly place them on the desk behind you. “For today, at least.”

His sarcastic retort is swallowed in another smoldering kiss, and as your panting breaths are stolen by greedy lips that pursue your own whenever you pull away for a momentary respite, you can’t help musing how good he is. In the back of your mind, you ponder whether he’s had practice or if this is all some primal instinct that’s been embedded since birth. It’s hard to imagine Azul locking lips with his pillow as if it’s a real, tangible person, and it’s a humorous thought that spurs you onwards in your endeavors. You tug on his hair, intending to dig as deep as you can in search of every touch Azul finds pleasurable. You seem to have found the correct spot, for he grips you more forcefully, groaning against your teeth.

By the time you’ve mussed his hair and shared more than a few sloppy kisses, you separate yourself from him. His arms shoot out to hold you in place and his glazed eyes hold a strange glint of fear—as if he’s just come down from a glorious high and has fallen prey to encroaching paranoia.

“Someone likes kissing,” you tease, evading his hand as he reaches for your uniform shirt with the intent to tug you against him for the passion he so desperately yearns for.

He hums his agreement and allows his palm to find the side of your face instead, cradling it as if it’s fragile porcelain. His thumb traces your jaw in smooth circles and you lean into the warmth, unaccustomed to such a careful touch. The fabric of his glove is a welcome embrace.

“You’re soft.” The mumbling is wrapped in honeyed cumulus. “So soft…”

You’d be softer if he disposed of the gloves.

The tenderness with which he regards you spills into your cracked heart, and for a moment you’re certain this is the real Azul. Or, at the very least, a fraction of his true personality—one that has lost its barbs and deception and is deliciously honest. But it could just be wishful thinking, a mere delusion resulting from some sort of phantom decompression sickness.

Your hand travels down the expanse of his chest, feeling fine fabric rustle beneath your palm, and you stop just above the strain in his pants. Azul is broken from his lustful stupor, having returned to this plane of reality by gentle, wandering hands.

“Is this okay? Or is it too sudden?” You feel obligated to ask because it eases your nerves. You’re not sure why you’re on edge, but your conscious suspects it’s because the private sight before you should be off-limits. In this moment Azul is a portrait framed in dappled light and you are simply observing him from afar, unable to touch him without direct approval, lest you find your wrist snatched by a protective curator. “We can stop here if you don’t want—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

That’s all the confirmation you need.

So you slide off of him with the grace of a cat, catching his gaze as if it’s a luminous firefly you intend to bottle. Where there was once fright, there is now a desire spiraling in his stormy blues. It’s a look you’ve seen on many students when you admired them during your salacious exchanges, but none wear it quite like Azul. Even when his face matches the shade of cherries—even when his tongue darts out to wet his lips and his hair is tousled and clothes wrinkled—he still resembles seraphic perfection, and it’s so alluring that you practically dive into his ocean eyes, sinking deeper towards a yawning maw that houses a lurking monster.

As you lower to your knees, expert fingers working to unzip his trousers, you realize you want to meet that beast, if only to stare him in the face and ask why he chooses to cloak himself in shadows despite his radiance.

Once you’ve freed his length from the confines of his boxers, you admire its generous size and girth, smiling at the slight upwards curvature. Gazing at Azul, who’s watching with so much intensity you’d think he’s trying to ascertain whether this moment is real or fake, you press your lips against the head of his cock. It’s a delicate gesture that has him turning away from you, a hand flying up to muffle his voice.

“You can look,” you tell him, hoping it sounds like a suggestion. “There’s no need to shy away.”

You drag your tongue along it, which earns you a shudder, and lick the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip. For a second you pull back and, without ceremony, spit into your hand. That has Azul’s head snapping in your direction, a mixture of confusion and disgust crossing his countenance.

“What?” You blink at him.

“Why—” He pauses to clear his throat, rebuilding his default persona with practiced finesse. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t think you have any lube around, so saliva will have to suffice. Even though it’s not as effective...”

“You humans are so peculiar with your use of fluids,” he mutters, but there’s a spot of intrigue in his tone.

“We’re insane,” you exaggerate with a chuckle.

You’re leaning in again, wrapping your slick fingers around the base of his cock. You aren’t surprised to learn how well-groomed he is, and for half a beat envy strikes you. His life seems so whole—so put together and flawless, even down to the dick you put your lips on. You almost wish it were like that for you; you wish things weren’t a fractured puzzle with missing pieces. It’s a desire you can’t force, unfortunately, because Crowley has yet to discover a way to send you back to your world. For now you can only hold onto hope as you distract yourself with the friends you’ve made so far.

You wonder how long you’ll have to spend in Twisted Wonderland before you start to accept it. Maybe you’ll reject the notion of returning home when it’s finally presented to you in the future. If it’s ever presented.

A strangled gasp slips from Azul and it frees you from your melancholy. With dainty strokes, you take your time fitting him in your mouth, only stopping at where your hand rests halfway, and bob your head back and forth. The rhythm is easy to settle into, and it has Azul sucking in sharp breaths as his hands clutch helplessly at the armrests of his chair. Your other hand crawls up his leg until it reaches his thigh, and you pat it in an effort to coax him into shameless enjoyment. Just relax, you want to tell him. His hand grasps yours, fingers interlacing.

This is new, you think, looking at him through your lashes.

In all the blowjobs you’ve given whilst at this school, you’ve never once held hands during it. But if that’s what Azul wants, you’ll accept it without criticism. Bare skin meets the fabric of his glove and it reminds you that there’s still a barrier between the two of you. There are many, actually, and you’ve only crossed the first threshold.

Your hand squeezes his length in a tighter hold and that prompts a low moan from the depths of his throat. It’s a beautiful sound, and you hope to hear more of him as he unravels before you—a perfect ball of yarn fraying at temptation’s doorstep.

“For today…” His words are coated in lust and pronounced in a hiss. “For today—ah, no—for two months, you’re mine and no one else’s.”

You hum your compliance and the vibration causes him to tighten his grip on your hand just as another moan tumbles from his kissable lips. Had he not been wearing pristine gloves, his fingernails would have surely dug into your skin, but you wouldn’t have minded the rough treatment. You’ve encountered all sorts of temperaments at this school, some more hostile than others. You can handle a little bruising.

Your lips come off of him with a wet pop, and you lick a stripe up the underside of his dick before placing another gentle kiss to the tip. You open your eyes to gauge his reaction. Deep crimson has settled onto his cheeks and is climbing to his ears, and even when he seems trapped in his own haze he’s ethereal under the blue hues of his VIP room. You hold his stare as you close your mouth around him once more and resume the slow, sensual pace you’ve adopted since you started. His other hand cards through your scalp and for a moment you think he might force you to take all of him at once, so you prepare yourself for the mouthful. But then he brushes a few stray strands from your face, delicate as a butterfly’s wings, and you don’t feel the stretch as his cock is shoved to the back of your throat. Instead, he allows you to take as much of him as you’d like, opting to utilize a fistful of your hair to prevent you from detaching yourself. And if you really focus on his treatment, it’s almost as if he’s petting you. Carefully. Mindfully. Sweetly.

Oh.

You’d thank him if you could, but that’s not possible when your mouth is full. And so you opt to show your gratitude in another way—a way that’s wringing him of every delicious sound you’ve ever heard him make. It’s almost criminal you’ve yet to hear such saccharine love cries spill from his lips, as plentiful as a rushing waterfall, and it’s all due to the pretty contract you signed. You put more effort into the speed at which you savor him, letting a few moans slip through for the fun of it, and Azul hisses out a colorful word that doesn’t quite reach your ears.

You feel almost lucky to experience this secret side of him.

“It’s a shame this mouth has tasted so many others…” he grumbles and you choose to ignore the complaint, only opening your ears to his breathless gasps and groans.

Azul squeezes your hand with so much force it feels as if he’s trying to tear it from your wrist. He’s caught between moaning and babbling nonsense, incoherent praises pouring from his silver tongue like raindrops on a dreary day, and all it takes are a few expert strokes and your talented, hollowed mouth and he’s crying out in ecstasy as he shoots his creamy load down your throat. You pull off of him, cum dribbling past your lips, and your tongue slips out to collect it before it can stain the floor.

“Wait, hold on! You don’t have to—” He stops mid-sentence as he watches you swallow it all in one gulp, unbothered by the consistency and taste. “Swallow… Ah, my apologies. H-Here.” He fishes through his pocket and produces a silken handkerchief from within.

You take it from him, marveling at its softness, and dab at your slick lips. “Thanks.”

“Consider it remuneration for…that.” He clears his throat and retrieves his glasses before working to clean himself with another handkerchief. “An even exchange, if you will.”

You exhale through your nose, amused. “It was like salty pudding. Kind of, but not really. I’ll know for sure next time we do it.”

“I beg your pardon?” He’s fit himself back into his boxers, trousers zipped and adjusted appropriately. He’d look presentable if it weren’t for his tousled hair and rumpled uniform, evidence of the past few minutes, but even then he’s still a pleasant sight for your eyes.

“Your semen.”

He absorbs your words and then flusters. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t compare it to pudding.”

“I think it’s fine. Your kisses are sweet and flowery and your cum is salty like the ocean. It’s a good balance between—”

He coughs, rather loudly, and you replace your words with jovial laughter. Rising to your feet, you hold his handkerchief out to him, suppressing a playful smile. He takes it from you and folds it into a neat square before placing it on his desk.

“Well, I hope today was satisfactory. You have my Magicam handle, right? Just message me on there whenever you want to do this again.”

“You’re leaving?”

You stare at him. “There’s no reason to stay. Plus, I have to make sure Grim did Professor Crewel’s homework.”

“At the very least, allow me to prepare some tea for you. I’m certain the taste in your mouth can’t be very appealing.”

“I find it’s quite the delicacy, actually,” you tease. “But what’s the catch?”

Now it’s his turn to ogle, brow furrowed as if he doesn’t quite understand the implications of your question.

“The catch. Nothing’s free here.”

“Oh. Right. Well.” He stands from his seat, smooths the wrinkles in his outfit, and adds, “Do you wish to have tea at this moment?”

“Sure, if you’re offering I don’t mind—wait. Wait!”

“And there we have it. Your first wish and it’s so simple. I hardly have to exert any energy.” He flashes his pearly whites at you in a smirk that’s more teeth than lip. “You’re too kind to me, (Name).”

You stick your tongue out at him while he grabs his coat from where it hangs limp on the leather sofa and drapes it over his shoulders. He pats his hair down in an effort to look somewhat together before placing the fedora on his head and putting his glasses on. You move to follow him through the door, but he stops you.

“There are patrons out there. Recall that we aren’t meant to be seen together, lest someone put two and two together.”

“Ah, right.” You fall back on your heel as you remember the stipulation outlined in the contract. “I’ll wait here.”

He doesn’t spare you another word and slips through the now open doorway. Left to your own devices, you could snoop through the many tomes lining the shelves, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. So you flop onto the sofa and listen to the faint chatter that drifts in from outside. Part of you wonders if anyone managed to eavesdrop, but knowing how noisy the Mostro Lounge can get it wouldn’t be surprising if your activities went unheard. At the very least, you’re certain the Leech twins might know of what occurred if they happened to linger near the door. You’d invite them in for the same treatment if they were willing to pay, but according to the contract you aren’t permitted to service anyone outside of Azul.

It’s a shame, but luckily Azul can provide you with anything and everything; so two months of time with him is more profitable than what you’d make in a week servicing the other students. It’s not exactly a loss, and as long as he doesn’t try to cheat you this arrangement will start and end smoothly.

You raise your hand towards the ceiling and flex your fingers, recalling the way his hand fit in yours so effortlessly. There’s a lot you don’t know about Azul. You don’t know what he does in his spare time. You don’t know the things he finds interesting. You don’t know why he chose to hold your hand or treat you with such caution. You’re only familiar with the businessman: the clever, scheming octopus who masquerades as a human with enough faux confidence and bravado to kill a man. And beneath that there is self-doubt—a constant, deteriorating fear that if he does not possess everything he is nothing. He’s an enigma decorated in ornate locks, and you’d like to discover every key until the chains have rusted away and you’ve worked out his complexities.

The door opens on smooth hinges and you sit up, your arm lowering to your side. In walks Azul, holding a saucer with a porcelain teacup. The fragrant scent of herbal tea fills the room and he sets it on the coffee table with an elegance that could rival Pomefiore’s. He lowers into the cushion across from you and nods towards the beverage. Steam rises from the liquid in wispy curls, aromatic tendrils that entice you to drink despite its scalding temperature.

“I sincerely hope you find it enjoyable.”

“I better because it was my wish,” you mutter, lifting the dainty cup from its accompanying saucer. You blow on it in an effort to accelerate the cooling process before glancing at Azul. “I won’t be fooled a second time, Ashengrotto. From now on I’ll choose my words wisely.”

He leans back and smirks. “A wisefish will fare better in the sea than a clownfish. You’re learning.”

Was that…a pun?

“Well, this ‘clownfish’ had you gasping like a beached mer.” Now it’s your turn to bask in amusement as you sip at the hot tea, careful not to burn your tongue. “I’d say I did a pretty good job, too.”

He rolls his eyes, but colors reminiscent of a ripened pomegranate are already climbing up his face. “It was an acceptable way to unwind. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

The flavorful tea rolls down your throat smoothly. “You liked it. I’m good at what I do. No need to skirt around the truth.”

“Sure. Fine. It was…okay. You’re…okay. Mere stress relief, if anything…”

With the way his voice trickles into a murmur of reservation, you get the impression that he’s not exactly confident in admitting the obvious. You surmise you might be the same if this was your first time getting intimate with a classmate. It’s almost invigorating to feast your eyes on his reactions. If only some of your other clients were as entertaining as Azul.

As you work to finish the tea, a single thought lingers in the back of your mind. Yeah, that was definitely a pun. A fish pun.

Your meeting with Azul is purely chance—a ‘luck of the draw’ one might say—and it’s no longer awkward to be caught up in him whenever the two of you are alone together. The past two weeks have been filled with exhausting study sessions, coercing Grim into putting paw to paper, and balancing Azul’s requests in the privacy of his VIP room. The latter feels more like work than the other two, but at the very least you’re rewarded after every exchange.

Azul really can work miracles you’ve concluded. Not that you doubted his capable nature to begin with, but something about him always seemed too good to be true—too perfectly manufactured. A lie inlaid in fool’s gold, and he was simply tipping poison disguised as a panacea into everyone’s gullible ears. Perhaps you’re just as bad as the rest because you’ve signed his contract; you’re trapped for two months, forced to walk the daunting line of staying within the terms.

But it’s an agreement that has pulled you out of your looming financial crisis and has provided you and Grim with delicious foods. And all it costs is an hour spent with Azul, catering to his whims like a doll who only knows how to obey the strings that set her elegant body in motion. You couldn’t have asked for a better deal. Of course you know to keep your wits about you when you willingly enter the too-good-to-be-true lair of a beast and you’re careful to accept the tea he prepares after your acts, ready to hear the steep price for his so-called generosity. So far he has yet to trap you in some elaborate con and you’ve done well to satisfy him with each encounter, but you remain wary of him and his plans. He’s always scheming, and there’s no telling if he intends to help or hurt you with his well-kept secrets.

And if you know anything about Azul and his knack for self-preservation, you’re certain it’s the latter.

You’ve yet to cross into any other territories regarding sex. Azul seems to be content with kissing and stuffing your mouth full of cock and those aren’t tall orders. You manage them well. But you can’t help wondering if it’s truly satisfying for him. He can have anything he wants from you, in any position and in any location, and yet he chooses to move at a snail’s pace. You aren’t faulting him for it, but falling into the same routine isn’t nearly as exciting as the dread of not knowing what comes next.

Maybe it’s safer this way. At least you know what to expect when you stride into the lounge.

“So the clownfish can study.”

“I can do tricks as well.” You gaze up at him from the thick textbook resting on your lap. Suddenly, the once peaceful air in the library’s dimly lit alcove feels colder than it actually is. With your back pressed against the chilled, snow-stamped windowpane, you view Azul from your makeshift fort of cushions as if he’s a prince standing just outside of your glass palace. He’s leaning against the bookcase in front of you, arms folding casually over his chest, and he makes no move to cross into your space. “What trick shall I perform for you today, Mr. Ashengrotto?”

“I’m not in need of your services at the moment.” Faux surprise paints itself on your face and he tuts softly. “Our paths just happened to cross, that’s all. I’m here for matters unrelated to you.”

“That’s a shame. I was here for you.” You turn the book towards him so that he can observe its cover. A panorama of the ocean has been printed on both the front and the back, and a beautiful coral reef resides in the bottom corners while a school of fish swim clustered in the deep blue. “I’m doing research on merfolk.”

“And why is that?”

“They’re interesting.”

“‘Interesting,’ you say.” He narrows his eyes at you, not quite believing or trusting the innocence in your claim.

“I’m serious! I want to learn about your species. Is that so wrong?”

“You could just consult me instead of an outdated, dust-filled textbook.” He gazes past you at the falling snow outside, each tiny flake fluttering through the gloomy sky like coconut shavings. “Although a lesson will cost you.”

“And here I thought we’d reached a point in our relationship where certain favors are free of charge...” Your gaze finds a particular passage on the page and you skim it with brewing curiosity. “Since you aren’t here for my mouth, I can only assume you’re looking for something. In that case, I won’t distract you.”

“Very well.” He peels himself off of the shelf, arms falling to his sides. “I wish you a most pleasant afternoon.”

The conversation should have ended there—you were fully prepared to bid him farewell and continue with your reading—but your hand just had to seize his wrist before the words could escape your lips. And now you’re left with a bizarre predicament, one that has Azul staring down the length of his arm at your fingers secured tightly around his wrist. There’s nothing you can say to rationalize this sudden contact. Truthfully, you have no idea why you grabbed him and you don’t really want to know the reason, wherever it may hide within the folds of your brain.

“Can I help you?” he finally asks, brows raised.

“It was…a reflex,” you admit with a sheepish laugh, but you don’t pull away. Instead you make it worse by tugging him towards you. “A clownfish reflex. No, that’s not it. A-Actually, I was practicing my grip. Y-Yeah! My grip for when I—um—hug my friends tomorrow. In the Mirror Hall! When we say goodbye! Yes, my grip.”

“Oh?” Azul flashes a cocky grin at you, head tilting as he studies your grimace. “Did you know that an octopus’s tentacles function on their own? It seems your hand isn’t connected to your brain.”

It sounds like a cruel dig. It feels like a cruel dig when it embeds itself in your heart, but it’s just the sobering wake-up call you need.

“I guess it’s not,” you mumble, fighting through the confusion in an effort to keep him entertained. Or maybe you really do want him to stay and acting like the clownfish he says you are is your clever way of distracting him from his main priority. You choose to remain perplexed instead of dwelling on that possibility. “Sorry. I’ll let go of you now.”

Once you release him, you’re overcome with a wave of relief. It’s odd that you’d reach out for him when it’s Azul who usually does that, sending terse, to-the-point messages whenever he requires your service. Azul gazes at the empty spot beside you and seats himself before you can come up with another outlandish explanation for your behavior. With this new proximity, his shoulder pressed against yours, you can smell the expensive cologne he takes great pride in wearing—can hear the rustling fabric of his uniform as he scoots closer to peer at the open textbook—and you’re swept up in the murkiest current, tugged along the rolling surf like a tiny boat with shredded sails.

You meet his stare with bemusement. “I thought you were busy.”

“If tolerating a clownfish counts as ‘busy,’ then I am, in fact, drowning in work.”

“You can’t stay away from me.”

“I’d say it’s the opposite.” His gloved fingers wrap around the book and you let him commandeer it. While he scrutinizes the paragraphs of text, you catch yourself admiring his handsome side profile. Once again, it’s almost impossible to fathom sitting beside someone like Azul, whose own fineness ought to be preserved in a museum and not in a slice of this ancient school, where dust is more prevalent than polish. “You do realize I’m an octo-mer, yes? Not a full octopus.”

“I know that,” you retort, yet his disapproving expression stabs you with a terrible shard of shame. “I was just looking at octopus facts to see whether or not any of it correlates to your behavior as a merman.”

“Should I ask why?”

“My intentions are as pure as the snow outside.” His scoff prompts a chuckle from you. “It says the octopus is an intelligent escape artist. Aah, I wish I could fit inside whatever I wanted without having to worry about getting stuck. Not literally, though. That’s not a wish. I’m just thinking out loud.”

“Speaking of, you’ve yet to name your wish from our last meeting.”

“You’re right.” You hum low in your throat, ideas populating in your brain at once. Eventually, after much internal deliberation, you decide to ease into it with a simple inquiry. “What’s your opinion on lingerie?”

“Lawnger ray… I don’t believe I’ve heard of that species of ray before.” He blinks at you, glasses sitting tilted on his face.

“Lingerie isn’t a fish.” Gently, your skilled fingers adjust his glasses, a warm smile blossoming on your lips when he wrinkles his nose at you. “Humans wear it. Think of it like…pretty underwear.” Withdrawing your phone from your pocket, you tap at the screen until it’s filled with images for Azul’s viewing pleasure.

He stares at your mobile as if he’s trying to see beyond the nonexistent cataracts in his pastel hues. “Humans are fond of this? I don’t see what’s so practical about wearing scraps of fabric.”

“It’s for fun or to feel sexy. Lots of couples wear it during foreplay. Some wear it during sex. I guess it depends on preference.”

“Foreplay?”

“It’s like easing into sex, but you’re exploring each other and building up to it through things like kissing, role-playing, and touching. If we were to do it, I’d give every inch of you my attention. From your lips to your chest to down there. It’s supposed to heighten arousal by exciting both parties.”

“And this ‘lawnger ray’ somehow helps?”

“If I wear it for you, you’ll understand.” As you say that his eyes drift from the screen to you, raking over your chest and then back up to your face. “But I also found slippers that look like fish, so I’m really stuck on what to wish for right now. Do I put my needs before yours? Are fish slippers better than sex?”

Azul deadpans and the electric tension in the air dissipates like smoke crawling through an open window. “Fish slippers do not sound like a worthwhile investment.”

“Oh, but they are!”

“To think you’d proudly wish for something so foolish... And in my presence, no less.” He shakes his head, sighing. “Have you no shame?”

“But they’re cute. You wouldn’t get it.” Pocketing your phone, you level him with half-lidded eyes. “Or maybe you prefer the ‘lawnger ray.’”

A scowl darkens his features when he hears your mockery of his mispronunciation. “Perhaps you’re less of a clownfish than I initially thought.”

“Then what does that make me now?”

“A megamouth.”

“A what?”

“It’s a species of shark. You wouldn’t get it.”

Now you’re reaching for his hand of your own volition like a marionette with severed strings. “Maybe you’d be willing to enlighten me, a poor, unfortunate soul who lacks marine knowledge?”

He shrinks away for a fraction of a second, but then he reassembles his confidence so quickly that you hardly notice it was deteriorating to begin with. His palm meets yours, fingers not yet interlacing. He stares at you and the rest of the library falls away into ash and dust and the scent of weathered, crinkled pages, and it really feels like you’ve found yourself at the end of the world in this cramped alcove with Azul as your only companion.

With your heart thrumming on newfound adrenaline, you murmur in a tone that you hope is filled with enough allure to tempt the most sinister devils: “Let’s make a deal. You’ll teach me about yourself and I’ll treat you as I have these past few weeks. If you’re feeling generous, you’re more than welcome to throw in those fish slippers as a bonus. I won’t complain.”

“You’re something else entirely. If you want it, work for it,” he says, but he’s listening, considering the bait you’ve dangled before him.

“That’s the plan. So do we have a deal?”

“Allow me to amend the terms. One lesson. No fish slippers. You’ll come see me after the Mostro Lounge has closed tonight.”

“You can do better than that, Ashengrotto. Where’s the challenge you love so much? The high stakes?” You’re well aware that speaking his language isn’t enough to entice him into agreeing. If you really want to wriggle inside Azul’s hearts like a worm in an apple core, you’ll need to sell your charm and negotiation skills as if it’ll put food on the table. And it technically does, as ironic as that sounds. “Let’s make this interesting. If I cum before you, I’ll gracefully accept this lesson as my wish. I’ll even let you choose lingerie for my previous wish. But if you cum first, I’ll be awaiting a pair of fish slippers. Does that sound acceptable?”

“All right. I’ll bite.” He winks at you, and your heart does a tiny somersault inside your chest. Smirking, he finally intertwines his fingers with yours. “It’s a deal.”

Not wanting to dwell any further on that internal response, you jump up from the cushion, hand parting from his, and brace yourself against the bookcase. Glancing over your shoulder at Azul, you wiggle your hips playfully. “You said it yourself. I’d be better off taking a lesson from you instead of that old textbook, so there’s no need to use it anymore.”

Azul seems to be debating the risks that come with this wager, his eyes clouded with uncertainty, and for a moment you think he might back out, cowed into a premature defeat at the thought of some nosy student stumbling upon the explicit display. But, to your delight, he shuts the book and sets it aside, rising to his feet in one fluid motion.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Since you think I’m such a megamouth, I’ll use something else instead.” You lift your pleated skirt to reveal the pudgy flesh of your thighs. “If it’s okay with you, that is.”

“Naturally.” His hands find your waist, gloved fingertips ghosting over your bare skin. “I do hope you’ve prepared yourself for defeat.”

“Like I’ll let that happen.”

Reaching into the depths of your uniform blazer, you withdraw a small jar that fits in the palm of your hand, unassuming with its clear, gel-like appearance. Azul watches as you make quick work of undoing his pants, tugging them down almost impatiently, before yanking the cork out of the bottle with your teeth. After spilling a generous amount into your hand, you work his flaccid cock in a loose fist. There’s something uniquely appealing about doing this in a corner of the library, where you’re pressured into silence to avoid getting caught. You wonder who’d chew you out if they discovered the both of you. Just what sort of punishment comes from fucking in the library? As intriguing of a mystery as that is, you’d prefer to keep your record clean (for the most part), lest it come back to burden you in the future.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to stiffen with your gentle ministrations, each stroke slow and deliberate. Azul hisses out a breath when you pull away, and you hardly have time to react before he’s shoving you against the bookcase, slipping his slick length between the softness of your thighs. His arms wrap around you and he rests his forehead in the crook of your neck as he moves his hips, searching for the right pace. You chew your lip and stifle a dreamy sigh at the lewd delight the friction provides.

“Let’s start with the anatomy of an octo-mer,” he murmurs against your skin, and despite how textbook it sounds you shudder involuntarily. Had it been anyone else, you’re certain that pairing this topic with your current situation would have squeezed a laugh out of you. But since it’s Azul, you listen intently, even if it feels like the beginning of a lecture. “We’re eight-limbed invertebrates with three hearts. Our blood is blue, which you humans seem to find abnormal, even though it’s not that different from your own blood. It’s only blue because of haemocyanin, which contains copper instead of the iron you humans have in your blood. If you think of it like—”

“That’s great, but tell me about you.” You crane your neck and offer him a grin. “The elusive Azul Ashengrotto... I wonder what sort of habitat he dwells in. I wonder what his favorite foods are, if he hunts for prey with his silver tongue or his bare hands, and if there’s more beneath the clever conman than he lets on. Maybe he’ll say yes to the fish slippers if I kiss him drunk. Oh, I’ll have to take notes. The Ashengrotto species is not immune to kisses and blow—ow!”

A sharp pinch to your side. And then his low warning: “You’re really pushing it, Miss Megamouth.”

Laughter trickles out of you. “My bad. I’m just curious.”

“Why?” The one-word query sounds so brittle and sad, almost as if he can’t fathom why you’d ever want to know such information, and your playful nature softens.

“Because we’re so obviously more than strangers and yet I hardly know anything about you.”

“Right... In that case...” His fingers grip your chin, a touch so benign you’d think he’s handling glassware, and he guides your head so that you’re no longer looking at him. “I...like to collect things.”

“Like?”

Something wet touches your neck, as fleeting as a sun shower. You can’t tell if it’s his lips or a tongue, but it traces its way down your skin until it’s dampened your uniform collar. Your heart recognizes the liquid well enough, but you can’t bring yourself to confront him on the matter.

“Coins, mainly. Contracts. Magic…” His intonation falters and he clears his throat. “Interesting things.”

Your fingers wrap around the shelf to steady yourself, and you inhale sharply when he makes a sudden, quick thrust that has his dick rubbing against your clothed pussy.

“I—hah—hope our contract...made it into your collection.”

“Of course. I take pride in every arrangement, no matter how personal it may be.” He squeezes your hip playfully and the melancholy gradually evaporates. “Ours is by far my favorite.”

“Even though I can’t give you any magic?”

“You’ve given your time to me. That’s incredibly valuable. Priceless, I’d say.”

“And yet it’s the price I pay in exchange for your ‘bottomless generosity.’”

“Oh, hush.”

Now you feel his lips on your neck, a sensation so wonderful and warm that you can’t help tilting your head to offer him more of your bare skin. You hum your approval, eyes fluttering shut as you resign yourself to the moment. The only sounds that permeate the crisp silence are the delicious squelches of skin on skin, Azul’s lustful whimpers, and your soft pants. He holds you against him as he fucks into your thighs and presses delicate kisses into your heated skin.

For the first time since you arrived at this school, you feel so secure and wanted—genuinely wanted and not just for secret exchanges behind alluring architecture. It’s reassuring to be held and kissed and touched, a special sort of comfort you’ve found in Azul. You wonder if this is just another sugary dream you’ve trapped yourself in and Azul is merely a performer in the play orchestrated by your mind. When his hand moves to unbutton your blouse, skillful fingers tugging your tie down, you realize this isn’t just an alternate reality constructed from the secret desires locked away in the confines of your heart. And knowing this is so very conflicting because you’ve never done anything like this with previous clients. Nothing has ever been as emotion-driven as this currently feels.

But you’re as good an actor as Azul. Perhaps the both of you realize a certain level of showmanship is required for this unique friendship.

Friendship. Since when did the two of you become friends? Was it that day in the lounge when he’d first proposed this arrangement? Or was it the minute you met him after he’d trapped so many unfortunate souls in his tricky contracts, and you, Jack, and Grim had debated whether you should sign Ramshackle away under the dimming glow of the VIP room? Or maybe it was the day you sat at his bedside in the infirmary, offering your ear while he agonized over his ruined reputation and the fact that everyone—that you—had seen his true self: a clumsy, crybaby octopus who can’t exist without gilded lies and stolen skills.

In the midst of his self-loathing, you’d placed your hand over his trembling, bandaged one and said, “Ruined reputation or not, you’re still you. And the people who really, truly care for you won’t abandon you because of everything that happened. If they’re really your friends, they’ll forgive you. I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re just relieved you’re alive.” He stared at you, confined in his own silent awe, and with his defenses momentarily compromised you delivered a quick smack to his arm, to which he immediately flinched away from. “But that also doesn’t mean you can pull a stunt like this again. If you do, I’ll turn you into takoyaki and feed you to the twins!”

Azul's wry laughter had him grimacing seconds later. Despite the pain that flashed on his face, he managed his classic smirk. “I’d like to see you try.”

“There he is! Welcome back, Azul,” you said, grinning through the discomfort of your own wince-worthy bruises. If he noticed the way your arms wrapped protectively around your stomach, he didn’t verbalize it, instead choosing to peer at you with his lips pursed in a thin line. Thinking, as always, of what to say next.

“I never want to let you go.”

Your heart trips over itself and every musing promptly disintegrates. “S-Sorry?”

“Ah. It’s…nothing,” he whispers, smiling against your skin.

A shudder racks through you when he tugs your bra down to free your breasts. The cold air immediately hardens your nipples and you shiver against him. His gloved hands fit perfectly over those tender mounds and he handles them with his usual gentleness. Even though he’s murmuring about his affinity for the piano and how he’d like to play you a piece he composed, all you can focus on is the euphoric feeling of his dick sliding between your thighs, back and forth in a drag that sends electricity up your spine.

You whine pitifully, a snuffed sort of sound that only entices Azul more. With a breathy chuckle, he rolls your puffy nipples between his fingers, and more lovely moans cascade from your lips. There’s no point in hiding your obvious enjoyment from him—not that you had any intentions of being opaque with him in the first place. You want to unravel with him, fending off orgasmic highs for the sake of preserving your pride and winning a bet. And as you push back against him, clamping your thighs around his length, which has him hissing lowly, competition catches a spark and ignites.

“You can cum whenever you’d like,” he reminds you, and you bark out a chuckle that’s more gasp than laugh.

“Only if you cum first.” You wriggle your hips against his pelvis and sigh dramatically. “It’s not nice to make a lady wait.”

“My sincerest apologies.” Derisive as ever, it hardly carries an ounce of sincerity. One hand detaches itself from your breast and you observe him in your peripheral as he pulls his glove off with his teeth. It’s tucked between your breasts next, and you roll your eyes at him, a humorous grin settling on your face when his fingers dip between the cleavage, a fleeting, teasing touch. His ungloved hand travels further down, ghosting over your stomach, before finding the delightful space between your legs. “I won’t keep you any longer, Miss Megamouth.”

His hand slips into your panties and the pads of his fingers brush along your clit. You jolt against him, posture going rigidly stiff.

“Hey, no fair…” Your whine is loud in the desolate quiet of the library.

“If I recall—” accompanied with another determined thrust— “you never specified what can and cannot be done in order to achieve victory. That was your first mistake.”

You attempt a weak scoff, but his finger grinds against that sensitive nub, rolling in precise circles, and your legs tremble. “I just... J-Just made it easy for you. That’s all.”

“Oh, is that so? Your mindless generosity rivals that of the S-Sea Witch.”

“Ooh, was that a voice crack? Are you close?”

“N-Nonsense.”

“There’s no shame in cumming first. So—haah—be a good boy and cum for me, okay?”

The sweetness in your voice is enough to elicit the tiniest whimper, and so you clench your thighs tightly around him again, certain that this is enough to guarantee your well-earned win. Azul pulls you against him in a way that mirrors possessive greed. But just before you can tease him any further, you look up and find someone peering right back at you through an empty space between the many texts that line the shelf.

“My, my.” Jade tilts his head at you, a wide smile sharpening on his lips when he observes the situation laid out before him. “Pardon my intrusion. I do hope I’m not interrupting your extracurricular.”

You open your mouth to retort, but Azul rests his chin on your shoulder and replies in a voice that’s now surprisingly composed, “You’re right on time, actually. We’re just about finished here.”

“But I haven’t even—oh!” Your fingers curl around the ledge when Azul tugs on your perky nipple and squeezes your clit with his other hand, and before you can stop yourself you’re biting into your arm to muffle your keening cry as your orgasm washes over you unexpectedly, soaking your panties and leaving you shuddering in the aftermath.

“Your second mistake,” he whispers against your skin, pride encasing every syllable, “was thinking you could beat me at my own game.”

He slides his slick cock out from between your thighs and removes his hands from you, instead guiding you around to face him before forcing you to your knees. Through hazy, lust-filled eyes, you meet his victorious stare. Pulling the other glove from his dominant hand, he grips your chin, forcing your lips apart, and he pumps himself a few more times before releasing his sticky load all over your face. By pure instinct, your tongue darts out across your lips to gather the cum that’s smeared on it like pearly gloss. You don’t miss the quiver that wracks Azul’s rigid frame. He clears his throat and assumes his usual poise, though the reaction is not lost on you.

“To conclude our lesson with a final fun fact.” He retrieves the handkerchief Jade offers through the gap in the bookshelf. “Should an octopus become bored or stressed, it may resort to autophagy as a means of stimulation.”

“Is that right?” You peer up at him through your lashes, intrigue crawling across your face.

“Luckily, I have no need to feast on my limbs. You’re plenty stimulating.” After cleaning himself up and sliding his gloves back on, he passes the frilly cloth to you, gazing sidelong at Jade. “Let us be on our way. Time is of the essence.”

Jade bows his head in agreement before turning to address you, a hand over his heart. “I would suggest you stay warm on this dreadfully cold day, but it seems you’ve already found an adequate heat source.”

And then they depart, leaving you and your flustered heart on the floor.

“Damn it! I nearly had him,” you grumble, gripping the handkerchief in a tight fist. The loss doesn’t cut very deep, but it does provide you with some useful insight. You’re left to dwell on it as you button your blouse and clean your face.

The Ashengrotto species is not immune to praise.

Grim is treated to the sight of you twirling around your room at the crack of dawn. He narrows his eyes at you, unimpressed with your melodious humming or the arrhythmic ballet you’re performing.

“Yer dancin’ and singin’ like yer in love. It’s gross.” He buries his face in his paws. His next words are muffled, but they reach your ears nonetheless. “Some of us are tryin’ to sleep. Nngh...”

“You’re not going to believe this!” you exclaim, jumping from foot to foot. “Look at this!”

Despite his initial complaints, Grim still lifts his head from the bed to observe the neatly wrapped box in your hands. “Is it food? If not I’m goin’ back to bed.”

“Hold on! You have to be awake for this.” Grinning, you hold the parcel’s accompanying envelope between two fingers. “Voilà! A letter.”

“Ya lost me.”

“It’s from Azul.”

Your furry companion pulls a face at the mention of Octavinelle’s slippery Housewarden. “Not that guy… What does he want now? I’m not washin’ dishes again! No way!”

“Dunno. Let’s find out.” You set the box beside you and sit on the edge of the bed, turning the letter over to analyze the golden stamp and the sender’s name scrawled on the front in looping script, delicate letters connecting to form a pretty slant. “His handwriting’s really nice.”

“Ya might as well kiss him at this point,” Grim mutters, sticking his tongue out in disgust. Oh, Grim, if only you knew... “He’s nothin’ but a no-good, lyin,’ cheatin,’ fraud!”

“But he’s also rich. Or… Yeah, right? Isn’t the majority at this school rich?” The inquiry hangs heavy in the air while you break the wax seal and tear the envelope open to get to the letter that rests within. It’s a short message—hardly worth the fancy stationery—and you read it aloud. “‘Dearest Clownfish, enclosed you will find those vile slippers. They are not cute and I refuse to waste brainpower fathoming why humans are charmed by peculiar oddities such as these shoes. I suppose that is the nature of contrasting species and the limitless curiosity that dwells in the capacity of one’s brain. In any case, I shall await your arrival at the Mostro Lounge tonight. 9:30 p.m. Do not be late, Miss Megamouth. Otherwise I will send two of my finest escorts to retrieve you.’”

Miss Megamouth. You roll your eyes. I liked ‘Dearest Clownfish’ better.

“I don’t get it. Why’s he want you to come down at night?” Grim snatches the parchment from your hands. “Sounds suspicious…”

“I’m…washing dishes.”

“Ugh. Good luck.” He casts the paper aside and you catch it as it flutters midair. “I’m goin’ back to sleep now.”

Riddled with excitement, you wave Grim off as he yawns and curls up under the blankets and pull the package onto your lap. It’s the size of a shoebox, and the wrapping paper is an iridescent silver. When you tilt it one way, it shines purple. Another way and it’s blue. Unable to speculate on the truth in his letter, you shred the wrappings and tug the lid off. Sure enough, a pair of fish slippers rest within and your heart skips a beat.

“Weird.” You run your finger over the smooth material. “He’s so weird.”

And his generosity lingers with you for the rest of the morning.

Farewells are not so depressing when they indicate a temporary absence and an eventual return. When you throw your arms around each of your friends, laughing at the way Deuce’s cheeks burn as pink as the flamingos in Heartslabyul or the way Ace grumbles into your hair about how he won’t miss you, you realize that a few weeks without them won’t be the end of the world. If this had been the last time you’d ever hear their voices and feel their comforting warmth, you’re certain there would be more emotions. Plenty of tears to out-rain even Kalim’s Oasis Maker.

That isn’t to say you aren’t sad to see them vanish through the impressive mirror, its foggy surface devouring each student like the powerful jaws of a Great White. You wonder if it’s ever sent a student to the wrong location before. Then again, if you came here through some old mirror’s summons then you’re certain that’s not too far from the realm of possibility.

Envy tugs at your heart when you pull away from Jack, whose embrace is far too tight and tense yet endearing enough. You feel the jealousy coil around the beating muscle until it’s constricting it, and you have no choice but to force a smile as you send the rest of your friends off with hugs and, for those who are too stubborn, a cheerful fist bump/high-five—or, if you’re Riddle, a stiff handshake. Really, you’d have thought he’d be more relaxed in the time following his Overblot. But you’re not Riddle and the both of you have different feelings about the things that keep you awake at night.

Still, you wish you could leave through that mirror, if only to see your loved ones for a coveted day of holiday cheer.

You and Grim are starved after wishing everyone safe travels and happy holidays. He’s sprawled in your arms while you carry him from the Mirror Hall, groaning about how if he isn’t fed within the next few minutes he’ll shrivel into nothing. A drama queen, that Grim.

“Ya walk too slow!” he declares after a full minute of whining. “If ya ain’t gonna walk fast like a good hench-human, then I’ll just get a head start.” And with a huff, he jumps from your arms, landing perfectly on all fours, before trotting off in the direction of the cafeteria. “And I won’t be savin’ ya any food. Not even a morsel!”

You watch him go with a fond grin. Maybe this winter holiday won’t be so terrible after all. You’ve got Grim and the ghosts to keep you entertained and when it comes to bed-warming you have Azul.

“(Name)!”

You turn at the utterance of your name and spot a student you’ve dubbed the Pomefiore Pest. He’s nice, if not irritatingly insistent, and he’s been sending you message after message wondering where you’ve been and why you haven’t responded yet. Thank the Great Seven for that glorious mute button; it works wonders. You were hoping you could evade him for a little longer, but what is life without its inconveniences?

“Oh! Hey… You? What’s up?”

He falls into step beside you. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought I’d catch you at the Hall today, but you were so busy with everyone else.”

“That’s me—the busiest bee on campus.” You wink at him. “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah? I think that much should be obvious.” His brows knit into the beginning of a glare, but he catches himself before he can scowl outright. Instead, he clears his throat and says, “I want to use your mouth today. You’ll let me, right? I’ll give you double from last time.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m about to eat right now. Maybe later?” You try to force as much dejection into your tone as possible, hoping it’s enough to garner his sympathy and drive him away.

“There won’t be a later, though. You’ll just keep ignoring me. I get that you’ve got stuff to do, but we had a deal. I pay you and you suck. That shouldn’t be so hard to follow.”

For a student from Pomefiore, his vocabulary sure is crude. Surely Vil has taught him better. You’d jest if you could, but he seems slightly worked up for your liking. And from observing Ace’s interactions with Riddle, you’ve learned it’s not smart to poke a seething bear.

“I really wish I could, but I can’t. I’m busy right now.”

“You’re going to see Housewarden Ashengrotto, aren’t you?”

That stops you in your pursuit of good food and even better company. You gaze at him with a frown.

“Why would I?”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute.” With a sigh, he folds his arms over his chest. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with that guy. It’s impossible to get near you without those Leech brothers getting in the way.”

Someone’s perceptive. Or maybe you just like to watch, you stalker.

“You think so?” You rack your brain for a suitable scapegoat. It would be so easy to play it off as a fake crush or part of some elaborate plan to get closer to Azul to learn all of his secrets, but no one’s meant to know about Azul’s involvement with you. And you’re really not itching to break that term on this beautiful, albeit chilly, winter morning. “Give it time. In a month or so, we can get back to our usual routine. New year, new me, right?”

“I’m not waiting that long! Why can’t we just do it now? This was never a problem before.”

“Is it so wrong to want a break? You should put yourself in my shoes and try sucking half the school’s dicks. Maybe then you’ll understand.”

“You little—”

With an offended scoff, he seizes your wrist and yanks you off the cobbled path in the opposite direction. You stumble along, glancing at him and then over your shoulder at your destination as it grows smaller and smaller. The wintry wind whips at your face, snowflakes cutting into your frosted skin like a dozen intricate blades. Your annoying acquaintance says nothing when he slams you against the nearest surface, but the frustrated expression he wears speaks volumes about his intentions. You don’t react when he pulls your blazer open and sloppily unbuttons your shirt, too dumbstruck to realize the gravity of the situation. But once it dawns on you, your heart nearly stops.

“Hey, wait a minute.” You reach out to push him away, but he snatches your hand and places it just above his crotch.

“You can take your break after I’m done using you, got that?”

“You can’t be serious,” you say with an awkward laugh. “It’s snowing.”

“So? The weather doesn’t mean anything.”

You jerk away when his hand slips under your shirt to give your breast a squeeze that’s so rough you’re certain his fingernails will leave crescent-shaped indents in your skin. Wincing, you squirm in his grasp when his knee slides between your legs.

“Stop it. This isn’t funny anymore.”

“Now you know how I felt when you ignored me, you stupid slut.”

That’s as far as he gets because he’s doused in a surge of water seconds later. Shocked, he detaches himself from you and grabs at his soaked clothes. You can’t tell if he’s feeling the chill or is just so enraged he’s started trembling, but you hope it’s the former. Standing a few meters away and tucking his magic pen back into his breast pocket is your aquatic savior.

“Oh dear. What loutish behavior and towards a lady, no less. To be devoid of common courtesy and basic manners… Were you raised by barbarians?” Azul tuts as he covers the distance with graceful strides. He shrugs his coat off and drapes it over your shuddering frame before facing the drenched student. “It’s insulting an ignoramus like you resides in Pomefiore.”

“H-Housewarden Ashengrotto!” he manages to say through chattering teeth. “I promise t-this isn’t what it looks like.”

“No? Then am I a fool to assume (Name) wanted to be treated so callously?” He narrows his eyes at him as he stands in front of you like a protective knight in finely ironed uniform. You wrap his coat around yourself, relishing in the scent of his cologne. If you really think about it, it’s almost as if Azul’s hugging you. “I’d prefer not to waste my precious time or breath on a poor creature such as yourself. Lying will only hollow your grave and further cement your guilt.”

The Pomefiore student trips over his own tongue as he attempts to keep up with Azul’s quick wit. Eventually he grinds out a halfhearted excuse about how you were just playing hard to get and that you’re not normally this cold. According to him, you just needed a push in the right direction.

Azul chuckles, and the sound is cruel and harsh. “If I recall, you said the weather wasn’t a problem. I do hope you enjoy ice sculptures. They’re popular around this time of year, are they not?”

And with that, he turns on his heel and guides you away from the student, whose feet are now frozen to the ground. You ignore his shouts and inauthentic pleas for forgiveness as you walk beside Azul, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. Even his hand on your back is a comfort and you don’t quite hear his voice as you walk, focusing on his touch and presence rather than his words.

Azul’s determined gait comes to a halt in the courtyard under leafless trees with their gnarled limbs reaching towards the gloomy clouds above, and he’s looking at you with so much concern it twists your heart into knots. Your stare slides from him to the trees, and they remind you of a skeleton’s hands with their bent fingers scrabbling for a handhold in the vast, endless sky.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m…just a little shaken, but I’ll be okay.” You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’m glad you showed up when you did.” Your breath materializes before you in a puff of air that’s reminiscent of fire-breathing dragons. Your grip on his coat tightens. “Um… That student will be fine, though, right? I know he’s terrible, but freezing to death can’t be ideal or enjoyable.”

“Jade and Floyd will carve him out once the ice has reached his knees. I surmise the chill will have worked its way into the very marrow of his bones once they’re done. Hopefully this little lesson will leave him with plenty of time to reflect.”

Yikes.

“I can pay you back for saving me. I know nothing’s ever free with you, so just name your price and—”

“Is that really all you can say?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is your brain wired so foolishly that you’d sell yourself without having considered the consequences?” he snaps, glaring. “If you used a sliver of your brain… Honestly. Things like this wouldn’t happen if you didn’t throw yourself at every student like a slab of meat!”

Shock digs into you like a sharp blade and you take a step away from him, betrayal flashing across your face. Suddenly, his coat feels less like a welcome embrace and more like a heavy burden.

“I wasn’t suggesting anything sexual. I meant a favor or something…” With narrowed eyes, you meet his frosty scowl. “Is that all you see me as? Just some toy to be passed around amongst the students here?”

Azul’s expression softens for a moment. “That’s not what I—”

“No, that is what you meant, you ass!” You shrug his coat off and shove it at him, disgusted at his insinuation that you’re nothing more than a human sex toy. “I do all of this for a reason, but you wouldn’t know anything about that because you’ve never been forced into a strange world with no way out. You try making enough Madol to live in Ramshackle! You think I enjoy what I do? I don’t even know half of these guys and I definitely don’t like any of them.” You inhale a breath of icy air, hold it, and then exhale slowly. Arguing won’t accomplish anything, and throwing meaningless insults around would just add more fuel to the already flaming fire. “Now that I know what you really think of me, I’ll be leaving.”

“You misunderstood me. I only meant to say—”

You’re already walking away, gritting your teeth as you force yourself to remain composed. Hot, salty tears gather in your eyes, but you’re not quite sure why you’re on the verge of crying. It’s strange; you’ve never cared about Azul’s opinion before. So why now?

When you make it back to Ramshackle Dorm, you flop onto your bed and allow hidden emotions to seep through the cracks. Even the prepackaged sandwich Grim salvaged from the cafeteria fails to lift your spirits. Instead, he curls beside you and listens to your tearful rant. And when you’ve exhausted yourself, he lies on your pillow and falls asleep with you.

Nine-thirty rolls around, but you’re too busy playing card games with Grim and the ghosts to bother with the time.

After a week of ignoring countless summons from Azul, narrowly dodging the twins, and ranting your frustrations to Grim over tuna cans and candy, your rebellion ends at two in the morning when a slew of notifications shake you from your peaceful slumber. With a sleepy groan, you reach for your phone to shut it off when your eyes catch sight of the sender. It’s Floyd, and he’s bombarded you with one-word messages that spell out sentences when you skim through them.

He’s relentless, you think, irritated. I’m sure Azul told him to do this. The octopus doesn’t want to look desperate.

Yawning, you mute Floyd’s contact just as a final message populates: come to the lounge, shrimpyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!! :D

With so many exclamation points and an emoticon that would have been disarming had it not come from Floyd, you wonder if it’s truly worth getting out of bed for. But then you realize that it isn’t a suggestion—it’s a demand—and if Azul really wanted to see you at this very moment he’d send the twins to fetch you regardless of your willingness or the state of your consciousness.

I hate him, your brain concludes, but your heart houses covert disagreement.

Since you value Grim’s beauty sleep and are against paying for the damages that will inevitably come should the twins break into Ramshackle Dorm, you slither out of bed. Throwing a robe on over your nightwear, you slide your feet into your fish slippers and stomp out into the cold. The walk is frigid, and the chill bites fiercely, but irritation fuels you as you storm through the Hall of Mirrors and emerge at Octavinelle’s entrance, a foul tirade brewing on the tip of your tongue.

Before you can burst through the doors of the Mostro Lounge to confront Azul, someone’s hands shield your face.

“How much is Azul paying you, Floyd?”

“You’re good!” he exclaims with a breathy giggle. “I thought for sure you’d guess Jade.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where’s your slimy boss? I need to have a word with him.”

“Azul is waiting inside.” Jade’s voice. “Before you decide to converse with your fists, I suggest you take a moment to appreciate the view.”

“The view? What are you—hey!”

Floyd twirls you once before shoving you into the Mostro Lounge. The doors shut behind you with a resonating boom and you can hear the faint sound of footsteps as the twins depart. Frowning, you survey the dimly lit lounge. The aquarium’s luminosity dyes everything in an icy blue, an eerie hue that reminds you of submarines cutting through the deep, dark sea with a single searchlight. Someone claps and a spotlight clicks on, illuminating a table filled with drinks and finger foods in a pale yellow-green glow. Some of the dishes are recognizable—like the tower of chocolate-covered fruits and sparkling juices in champagne flutes—but some are foreign to your eyes—like the green clusters of what looks like tiny grapes and the seashells with a filling unknown to you—and you assume these originated from the Coral Sea. You gaze up at the octopus-shaped chandelier, brows furrowed.

“Humans have the most interesting terminology. What was it? Oh, right. ‘Comfort food.’” Azul stands before you with his usual debonair grin. Unlike you, he’s still dressed in his uniform and he looks presentable and perfect. As expected of a showman. “I would like to indulge in the comforts of good food with you. You’ll join me, won’t you?”

Your only response is the longest, loudest sigh you can muster.

Azul fidgets. “It’s not exactly a resort, but it’s still something.”

“Resort? Oh. You...remembered that?”

“Of course. I have an impeccable memory, after all.” He chuckles at your unimpressed glare. “For tonight, Octavinelle shall be your resort.”

“Wow, Azul. You’re really...” You trail off and his eyes widen in anticipation, awaiting praise. Your next words are like salt to the sensitive octopus that lives within him. “The most foolish clownfish I’ve ever met. No, more than that. You’re a megamouth and an annoying, pathetic, mean-hearted octopus. All three of your hearts are mean.” You cross your arms over your chest, but your defiance soon shrivels. “But…I also signed your contract, so I guess that makes me your contractual fool.”

“For two months,” he agrees, and you roll your eyes. “I deserve your ire, and now that you’ve rattled off such endearing adjectives I would like to formally apologize. It wasn’t proper to say those things to you. You were right. I don’t know how it feels to be forced into a magical world with no way out, but I can at least relate to how helpless you must feel. I, too, felt helpless when I came to the surface for the first time.” He clears his throat, awkwardly wringing his hands. “In any case, I do hope you’ll find it in your human heart to forgive me.”

“That depends. Is this entire feast for show, or are you genuinely apologizing?”

“I am genuinely apologizing.” He huffs. “And here you are in my humble lounge, fishing with your doubt. That saddens me.”

“Keep running that mega mouth of yours and I’ll leave without an ounce of forgiveness. I don’t take kindly to being woken from a good dream, Ashengrotto.”

“And yet you remain.” He whistles as he steps around you, a playful glint in his bright hues. “In the business, that’s known as getting your tail fin in the door.”

“I only came because I didn’t want to get kidnapped.” Shaking your head in disappointment, you stride towards the buffet and plop down in the booth. “And I’m only staying for the food.”

He lowers into the seat across from you. “Then please eat to your heart’s content. Free of charge, of course. Consider this an extension of my apology.”

Forgoing hesitation, you reach for a champagne flute, which houses a liquid that’s as blue as the sky and as frothy as sea surf, and admire its shine when it catches the light. “You must want something in exchange for all of this. The Azul I know wouldn’t go out of his way for an apology.”

“Your skepticism wounds me. I’m a gentleman.”

You take a long sip from the sparkling juice, savoring its sweet effervescence. “What do you want?”

“Patience, my dear. Comfort food is meant to be enjoyed in tranquility, not suspicion.”

Your heart jumps at the words ‘my dear.’ The aquarium looks much nicer at that moment. Coral twists in an array of colors and various species of fish swim freely, undisturbed by the meal taking place right in front of them. You catch yourself wishing to join in their aquatic world, a breathtaking place where your heavy feelings turn weightless in the deep blue and you can simply float away.

“Truthfully, I had intended to share this moment with you many nights ago.”

“So that’s what you meant in your letter,” you muse, hazarding a glance at him. He’s bathed in that same dappled light from the VIP room and you reach for him, wanting so badly to run your fingers through his hair, over his chest, on top of his hand. But then your fingers pluck a chocolate-covered fruit from the silver platter and you bring it to your lips. “The fish slippers are comfortable, by the way.”

“It seems you’ve taken quite the shine to them. I’ll admit they’re unique.”

A subdued smile threatens to blossom, so you bite into the strawberry. Sweetness coats your tongue at once, and a delighted hum escapes your pursed lips. Azul’s expression softens at your obvious enjoyment.

“Why’d you get them, though? I lost our bet.”

He rubs at a nonexistent stain on the tablecloth. “You looked so enthusiastic talking about those dreadful shoes. It was hard to not want to get them after enduring your ramblings.”

You freeze in your pursuit of another bite, the half-eaten strawberry poised at your mouth. “So it was a gift?”

“It was not a gift. I do not give...gifts.”

“You so do!” You slap the table and smirk. “Maybe I should lose our next bet.”

“Perish the thought. There won’t be another bet.”

“Fine, fine. But you admit it’s a gift, right?”

“Ugh. Honestly... Yes, it was a gift. I suppose it’s because you’ve charmed me.”

“O-Oh. Um…” You force a scowl despite the rising heat in your cheeks and add, “Well, I’m not charmed. I’m still angry at you.”

A sudden laugh bursts from him, unrestrained and filled with honest amusement. You gawk at him, bewitched with shock. Real, raw laughter sounds so musical coming from him—a sound that can only be produced when he’s effortlessly comfortable. Your resolve melts, and with another saccharine nibble you begin to dismiss every hostile barb that once occupied your thoughts. This Azul, you’ve decided, is by far the most enjoyable to be around. His shoulders lose their stiffness as he leans back against the cushioned booth, pure joy scrawled on his youthful face.

“For the record, I don’t truly see you as a piece of meat. It’s a distasteful comparison—an immature gibe, if anything. You’re more than that, but I’m certain you’re aware of this fact.” When you don’t reply, he smiles at you. A real smile, not his usual smirk-grin that he wears for confidence’s sake. “I’d say you’re quite the siren or something akin to a dessert. Sweet and tempting, a tantalizing human with a pretty voice and a pretty pair of legs. From every angle, you really are a painter’s finest work. I’ve found myself immersed.”

Sitting before him, clad in an oversized robe, sleepwear, and fish slippers, you do not feel like a painter’s finest work. Hell, you don’t even fit the classy theme of the Mostro Lounge, and you almost refute his claims outright. But with his gaze pinned entirely on you, you absorb his flattery like a greedy sponge in a puddle.

And with another sip from the flute, your heart pounding out an erratic rhythm and head swimming with elation, you realize you’ve shipwrecked into Azul’s three hearts. Even if his honeyed sentiments are insincere—even if he’s doing all of this to gain your trust and forgiveness—you want him to reciprocate for just a minute.

“It’s nice to feel wanted,” you whisper, and he perks up at the truth you’ve just uttered. “Knowing that someone waits for you and enjoys your company… I guess I just wanted to feel like I mattered here. I can’t use magic like you. I can’t grant wishes or fly on a broom. There’s not a magical bone in my body. For the longest time I felt so…useless and alone. There’s only one thing I am good at here and that’s making everyone else feel wanted. Because when I do that—when I’m able to give everyone else whatever it is they want—it makes me feel like I belong. Like I have a purpose.”

Azul stares at you and the silence that stretches between the two of you is so palpable that you hurry to shove another chocolate into your mouth. Why did I just say all of that? I probably sounded like an idiot. He reaches for your hand and you meet him halfway, fingers interlacing.

“But you’re not alone.”

“Not anymore,” you agree, squeezing.

“And who cares whether you can use magic?” Azul exhales noisily. “Honestly, there are plenty of respectable professions out there that don’t require any magic. Plus, the fact that you were even able to come here in the first place is magical enough. Call it destiny or fate or, Sea Witch forbid, ‘luck,’ it’s not every day Night Raven College is graced with a fascination such as yourself. And you’re very wanted! I want you, so don’t think for a minute that you aren’t... Ah. No, that’s not what I—well, it is what I meant. But... S-Stop looking at me like that! Forget I just said that! I meant, I want you as... As a companion. Like a friend! A contractual friend, all right? So stop smiling like a fool!”

He yanks his hand back and picks up his champagne flute, huffing around the rim. A flustered Azul is so very rare, and it’s a rich sight you savor.

“Oh? So we’re friends now?”

“We’re just two souls engaging in mutually beneficial affairs.”

“That’s a very roundabout way of saying we’re friends.”

He raises a loose fist that’s not entirely threatening and your heart floats.

“Azul, I really—” You bite your tongue. “I’m…sorry for calling you an ass and ignoring you. You deserved it, but right now I just want things to go back to normal. That way we can end on positive terms come Valentine’s Day.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He lifts his glass from the table; the golden liquid winks at you as it sloshes with the movement. “Shall we toast to that?”

You raise your flute and the two glasses join with a gentle clink. And it’s at that exact moment when you feel a tightness in your lungs—the kind that’s reminiscent of suffocation and drowning. You down what’s left in your glass before turning your perplexed and slightly unnerved stare on Azul, who regards you with a growing smirk. Just when you thought you’d gotten a glimpse of the real Azul, he returns to his scheming self. Your throat continues to close up despite the liquid that travels down it, and it’s a familiar feeling that brings forth a recollection of your visit to that fantastical museum in the Coral Sea.

Azul reaches for something under the table before passing it to you. It’s another gift wrapped in that same translucent paper from before.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I’d like to see it on you at the very least.” He rises from his seat, fingertips ghosting over your shoulder. “You did say I’d come to understand the allure of lingerie if you wore it for my eyes.”

You listen to his retreating footsteps, wasting no time in tearing the present open. Inside lies a beautiful two-piece in the same shade of purple as Octavinelle’s crest. The top is bejeweled with pale gemstones, beads, and small seashells—polished baubles that glimmer when touched by the light—and strings of pearls hang low from the straps. The bottom is a short, wrap-front sarong skirt. Sequins wink at you when you lift it from the box to feel the sheer material between your forefingers.

It’s innocently modest, almost like a swimsuit, and you wonder what the significance is in this particular set. He must have browsed dozens of types and designs. There’s a reason he does everything, after all. Perhaps this is just a stepping stone in some bigger plan. The mere thought that he’s orchestrated all of this, down to the very foods you indulged in, kindles nervous excitement within you.

You don’t have any time to admire the design any longer, even if you want nothing more than to gush over its beauty, so you strip as gracefully as possible and change into the outfit. Your sleepwear and robe are discarded in a haphazard pile, and you secure one final chocolate from the table before following the path Azul took. There’s a ladder that leads up to the aquarium and you grab at the sturdy rungs with determined hands, breathless exhilaration fueling every step.

I wonder what his plans are, you ponder once you’ve reached the top, where the yawning mouth of the aquarium waits. Peering down at its illuminated depths, you note a stunning coral reef, dozens of colorful fish, and a spotted eel curled within the rock formation, its mouth parted to reveal rows of razored teeth. It reminds you of the twins.

Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest and you’re about to jump in when a hand fits into yours. Azul spins you around to face him, his other hand settling on your waist. You blink at him, unable to utter anything as your lungs shrivel. You have half of a mind to scold him for such an underhanded method, but you’re too speechlessly awestruck to do so. Instead, you allow him to guide you towards the water’s edge.

“Drown with me,” he whispers and you’re so ready to comply. You want to fall, fall, fall into the deep, spiraling blue. And your wish is granted without the need for deals or signatures. He tugs you against his chest and allows gravity to take the both of you.

With a resonating splash, saltwater envelops you in its whimsical embrace. The fish scatter at once, hiding amongst the reefs and in openings spotting the coral. Your eyes snap open in the water, lips parting in a soundless gasp, and you’re immediately put at ease when breathing comes naturally. Something slips through the bubbles and mist. At first you don’t recognize the creature who regards you with horizontal pupils and sharpened fangs, his beauty suspended in the angelic light as if he’s been frozen in time. But then a tentacle nervously curls around your arm, and your mind reels in an attempt to keep up with the sight that’s currently blessing your eyes.

“Y-Your mer form!” you sputter, reaching out to touch him. He flinches and you stop short, hands grasping water.

“It’s…weird. I’m aware. My apologies. I’m not sure why I assumed this would be a good idea. I just thought that maybe—well, you spilled your emotional guts, and I thought that it would only be fair if I—”

“I don’t think it’s weird.” You hold your hand up and watch as he slowly lifts his palm to meet yours. “You’re still you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He swallows thickly, eyes darting to and fro, unable to settle on your face for more than a minute. “But this form is so… So very undesirable. I’m weak and clumsy and—”

“Beautiful,” you insist, closing your hand around his. “You’re so beautiful.“

Tears well in glassy eyes, an indication of grief withheld for years. You wonder if anyone’s ever told him that before. Or perhaps he’s never allowed anyone to refer to him in such a lovely manner, for when he peers at himself in the mirror he sees the opposite.

“I don’t need your pitying words.”

“They’re not pitying. They’re the truth.” Maybe it’s because you’re feeling especially emotional tonight or it’s your lack of sleep that has honesty sitting at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t stop yourself from admitting every single thought that crosses your mind. There’s something else that’s dying to escape the confines of your throat, three precious words that are locked away in your heart and are begging to be set free. You almost give in—you want to give in and allow the water to cradle your sentiments as it currently does you—but you can’t. “You’re amazing, Azul. I don’t know of anyone else who’s as dedicated and strong as you are.”

“Yes. Well.” He opens his mouth to retort and whatever self-deprecating excuses he had at the ready dissolve immediately. He shuts his mouth with a sigh.

“I like your true form.” Your fingers trace his jawline, holding his cheek with mounting fondness. “And I think you should like it, too.”

His gaze flickers to your midriff and a trembling tentacle curls tentatively around it. You glance at it as it holds you with such precise care—as if you’re precious pottery that might shatter at the slightest touch.

“But I hurt you,” he whispers mournfully. “Back then when I…”

Your head snaps up to view him. He averts his eyes at once, cowed into humiliated submission. You weren’t expecting he’d remember and you certainly didn’t think he had noticed your pain all that time ago. Has the guilt always lingered with him? Has he always been crushed with that memory?

“You remembered,” you mumble in disbelief, yet your voice sounds louder in the surrounding water. Almost as if you’ve been enveloped in a bubble. In fact, now that you’re realizing it, you don’t feel nearly as wet as you should. The lingerie isn’t sticking to your skin, soaked through with saltwater, and your hair is still in pristine condition. You surmise some unknown enchantment is to blame for this puzzling coincidence.

“Of course!” His tone rises in pitch, bordering manic panic. “How could I not? I was so cruel to you. Even if I wasn’t truly conscious for most of it, the fact still stands that I hurt you and endangered so many others. But I… I was just so terrified. Terrified of losing you like I’d lost my contracts…”

“Azul…”

“And to go so long without properly apologizing—horrible! Absolutely disgraceful,” he adds with great haste. “That’s why this form… It’s not pretty. It’s not cute. It’s ugly and gross and squishy. I hate it. It’s only good for causing harm. That’s why I—”

“Azul!” He snaps back to his senses when you place your hands in his and gingerly guide them to your mouth. And then you place a single kiss upon each. He nearly melts into a puddle of weepy octopus. “None of what you say is true. You’re lying to yourself.”

“I’m not,” he says, but his voice falters. “I... It’s not proper to say things you don’t mean. I’d much rather you tell me I’m hideous now than continue dragging this nonsense out any longer.”

“Oh, Azul, delusion is not a pretty look on you.”

“So... So you don’t find me repulsive?” he ventures nervously. “You truly, honestly don’t?”

“Not at all. You take my breath away. Literally.”

His tentacle comes down upon your thigh in a soft smack. It’s a lighthearted admonishment, coupled with an unamused groan, and you find yourself laughing in delight.

“Can we make another deal?”

“That depends. What will this deal entail?”

“You can kiss me as much as you’d like, but you must first look me in the eyes and tell me that you’re beautiful. And you have to mean it.”

“What? Why? That’s—” His protests die in his throat. “I suppose...I can do without kissing for tonight.”

“How about this? Repeat after me.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not going to—”

“I, Azul Ashengrotto, am beautiful and wonderful and smart.” A delicate smile sprouts on your lips. “Go on. Your turn.”

He exhales dramatically, a bluish tint settling on his cheeks, and parrots the affirmation in a shaky mumble.

“And I’m not ugly, gross, or squishy.”

“And... Ugh. Honestly, (Name), this is completely senseless! What good is this going to do?”

“If you want to accept compliments, you have to accept your reflection first because it’s what the mirror will always show you whether you like it or not. And mirrors never lie. Your mer form is perfect as is, and so are you, Azul.” You lean in to press your lips against his cheek. His frown wavers. “I like you for you. That’s the truth. And I’m honored you’d feel comfortable enough to show me this form. That means a lot.”

Azul’s shoulders tremble with his inhalation, and you think he might cry. But after composing himself and chasing away creeping waterworks, he places his hands on your shoulders, sliding further down to caress your arms. He’s examining you like one might a rare luxury, handling you as though you’re a priceless artifact he’s only just unearthed from the murky depths of the ocean, and there is a certain glint in his eyes—one that reflects the truth in your heart.

“You’re perfect...” he admits suddenly. “You’re so perfect. Far more beautiful than I could ever be.” You open your mouth to object, but the tip of one of his tentacles prods at your lips to shush you. “I understand the appeal of lingerie now. It’s very nice on the eyes.”

“I told you you’d like it.” You kiss the tentacle briefly. It jolts in response, drawing back only slightly so that he may observe your pretty lips as they curl up in a wicked smirk. “But you’re avoiding our deal. To think the master of contracts would do such a thing...”

“I don’t recall agreeing. We never even shook hands, therefore it has no relevance.” He peers at you for a short while before sighing, the tension in his shoulders slackening. “But if what you say is true... If you really don’t find me unattractive... I... I suppose I can be beautiful. For tonight.”

“Just tonight? Why not forever?”

“Because forever is much too long of a delusion.”

“Whether human or mer, you’ll always be beautiful to me.”

Azul exhales a disbelieving laugh. “You sycophant... You really are a siren, aren’t you?”

“I learned from the best.”

His eyes roll, but there isn’t annoyance in the act. Rather, a lopsided smile stretches on his face and his blue eyes are alight in the ethereal glow of the water. You touch one of his hands, admiring the seamless transition from black to grey. His skin looks so sleek—almost like the wax job of a newly built ship—and you’re certain that if you were to watch him swim he’d cut through the water without hindrance.

And to think that you get to experience Azul in such an intimate setting. You’d never have imagined this is where you would be with him last year, where you’d previously been at one another’s throats. Call it unresolved sexual tension or Azul’s determination to get you to sign a contract, but you’d avoided him and all that he was solely to prevent yourself from falling into one of his schemes. Now that you’re here with him, you realize the nature of your arrangement has only gotten so much more comfortable since you first started. It doesn’t feel like an obligation anymore. It doesn’t feel like he might cheat you out of something.

It really feels like he might feel the same things you feel. Or, at the very least, you can delude yourself into false hope, a balm that pairs nicely with the cracks in your heart—cracks that only Azul seems capable of filling in this moment.

“I’d like to try something,” he murmurs, his voice muffled in the water. You nod mutely, and a nervous smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Anxiety does not suit a suave individual like Azul, but you suppose all negative feelings are undeserving of residence on such a handsome countenance. A tentacle traces up the length of your leg, slowly, enticingly, winding like ivy along a garden trellis, and he inhales a shuddering breath. “Would you... Ah, well, if you wouldn’t be opposed to this... Would you maybe, possibly, hopefully like to...”

“Fuck in your mer form?” you finish and he blanches, his eyebrows knitting in disdain.

“When you put it like that, it sounds so vulgar.”

“I’m sorry. Would you have preferred ‘make love’ instead?”

Azul pinches your cheek in what can only be considered lighthearted scolding. “I would have, yes. Very much so.”

You open your mouth to correct him—but this arrangement isn’t built on love—and promptly close it. You’re certain he’s well aware of that, even if it isn’t spoken outright. Instead, you throw your arms around his neck to mold yourself against him, to feel his hearts beating against yours.

“But only the tip. I don’t think I could do any more than that.”

“Is that so? What a pity,” he teases, and you scoff at him. “Perhaps we should add another month to our agreement? That would be more than enough time to properly accommodate that tight, little space between your legs...”

“Now who’s the vulgar one?” You press your forehead against his and swallow the truth. “Two months is enough.” But it’d be nice to do this forever.

He pouts at you—truly pouts!—and says, “The tip it is.” And then he’s glancing at your lips. “May I kiss you?”

“Kiss me until I’m dizzy.”

He seals what remains of the distance, a mere sliver of space, and you melt into him. His mouth is sweet against yours, a missing piece that finally completes your puzzle, and you tangle your tongue with his, sighing into him as though the sound is enough to keep the both of you afloat. Unlike the floral flavor from your first few kisses, his mouth tastes of chocolate and some fruity drink—pineapple, most likely.

You pull away briefly to catch your breath. He’s staring at you so intently now, horizontal pupils flicking about your body as if scanning you. He looks good without his glasses you’ve realized. But then Azul always looks good regardless of whether or not he’s wearing his glasses, and it’s a happy thought that trickles through your head like a stream slicing through a mountain.

“I won’t hurt you this time,” he whispers, and a tentacle curls around your hand, lifting it to his lips so that he may place a tender kiss upon it. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

“I trust you.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

“Should I be scared instead?”

“Now there’s a question.” He hums and runs his fingers along your throat, a sly smirk settling on his face. “Fear is very delicious to us creatures from the deep. I wonder how yours might taste... Will it be salty or sweet?”

“Who knows,” you say in a sing-song. “You’ll just have to find out for yourself...”

He’s decorated you in his tentacles, twining them around your legs and waist, and it occurs to you that escape is impossible. But no matter how intimidating he may act, you could never be frightened by his real form. Even if he has the strength to subject you to a bruising death, he holds you so carefully, merely exploring every inch of you with curious touches and suctions. His hands cradle your face, pulling you in for another candied kiss, and your fingers wrap around his wrists to keep him there while you exchange breath as if the both of you are the only oxygen sources to exist in this wondrous world.

And this time he isn’t wearing gloves, and you’re no longer standing on the other side of the Do Not Cross line in the museum that confines his portrait. Now you’re right in front of him, offering yourself as a sacrifice at an underwater altar, and there aren’t any thresholds you must work to overcome. Even if there are still mysteries yet to be uncovered—and you can’t say you know Azul as well as you would like to—you’re astonished that such a relationship like the one you began with him could ever blossom into something so perfect.

Maybe Azul was the key to your heart all along—the single variable needed to solve the complex romance equation you’ve been unable to answer.

A stray tentacle slithers beneath the fine fabric of the sarong skirt, coiling between your thighs, and Azul smiles to himself as he curls another around your chest, the tapered tip sliding under the bra studded with remnants of the sea to take hold of your breast.

“Did you know,” he says conversationally, “that an octo-mer can taste with every sucker?”

“Really? Then I expect you to tell me my entire flavor profile by the end of this.”

He laughs a mystic laugh that surrounds you like wool stretching around your head, muffling all outside noise. You reach blindly for one of the few free appendages, to which he obliges and wraps one around your forearm, constricting good-naturedly. You guide this one to your other breast so that he may toy with both of your puffy nipples. He wastes no time in fondling you, utilizing his suckers in even succession. One moment you can feel the intensity of the suction as it squeezes you and then it relents, only to come back much fiercer. A people-pleaser to the core, he seems to be well aware of every touch you find pleasurable, and the idea that he may have found some covert way to study you in order to glean this secret information sparks gratification.

Perhaps he, too, has watched you from his own boundary, unable to indulge in the museum that houses your brilliance for reasons that will remain unknown to you.

Another tentacle finds your other hand—the one that isn’t currently stroking the tentacle that bestows tantalizing touches to your breasts—and briefly you’re considering how he can keep track of so many limbs. But you’d expect nothing less of Azul, who’s had years to master the art of multitasking with ten arms at his disposal.

The tentacle between your legs pokes curiously at your clit, and you inhale a quavery breath.

“This nub...” he mumbles, partially to himself, as if he’s in awe of the sexual anatomy that composes the human form. “Your pretty, little pearl...”

Your hand covers his tentacle, halting his exploration. His eyes flick up to meet your wide grin. “Did you...call the clit a pearl?” A giggle rises in your throat, and his face colors the deepest shade of blue.

“D-Don’t laugh! I’m trying to...” He looks away, chewing his lip. “Trying to be romantic...”

“No, no. It’s plenty romantic.” You bring it back to your thighs, pressing the sucker-lined side flat against your slit. Azul sucks in a sharp gasp. “You’re so cute, Azul.”

That seems to fluster him even more, for he pushes the tip of one of his tentacles past your lips, effectively silencing you. Never one to pass on an opportunity for teasing, you run your tongue along the underside. The contact has Azul suppressing a delighted shudder.

“You really are so peculiar,” he mutters, but there is an incredible amount of adoration twined throughout every syllable. “To call someone like me ‘cute’ without a shred of apprehension...”

Azul tuts at you, taking note of the half-lidded stare you level him with when your eyes meet, and he strokes along your pussy slowly. The lazy swipes are accompanied by another tentacle, its tip rubbing perfect circles into your clit, and you grind down against every limb satisfying your lower region out of carnal instinct.

“I find you much cuter when you’re like this, restrained and at my mercy.” He tilts his head to survey you from another angle, blue hues observing every tentacle that’s laced itself around your body, sliding between your thighs, breasts, and even your armpits. You remain in the very center of such a desirable piece of art, working diligently to lather the tentacle thrusting into your mouth with as much saliva as possible. Though it’s impossible to tell whether you’re successful in your endeavor when it mixes so freely in the water. You think you’re doing well because there’s a breathiness to his next words that has you humming in satisfaction. “Although my surroundings seem so empty without your pretty voice to fill the silence. That’s most unfortunate.”

He’s flattering you now, laying lovely adjectives on his phrasings as if he wasn’t the one to silence you in the first place. But for once you’re glad to have been quieted because it allows you to focus on his electrifying touches while he speaks. To think you were once so averse to his voice solely because of its grand intonation and the snarky, backhanded remarks that would always fill the spaces in his sentences.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be very fair to call you Miss Megamouth right now...” He chuckles to himself, bringing his knuckle to your hollowed cheek to pat it endearingly. “And you aren’t a clownfish either, certainly not when you’re dressed as—how do you humans call it? ‘Eye candy,’ was it? So then that would make you my tempting siren or my sweet, little mermaid. Which do you prefer?”

How about angelfish? you try to say around the thick appendage, and by some marine miracle your suggestion does not go unheard.

“Angelfish! Isn’t that beautiful? And so very fitting, too.”

You've never seen so much innate tenderness settle on his face before, softening his gaze and adding another exquisite level to his beauty, and it’s a scarce sight you engrave into your memory so that it will linger for years to come.

Azul presses his lips to your forehead, sighing blissfully when you squeeze your legs shut to lock the tentacles between your thighs in place.

“I’d like to call you that forever... May I?”

The tentacle in your mouth withdraws, much to your disappointment, so that you may provide him with a response.

“Of course. But I’m going to miss the other names you’ve given me.”

“Those aren’t going anywhere.” He offers you a small smile. “I’ll admit I’ve grown rather attached to them.”

“Then... Can I call you something, too?”

His hand fits into your awaiting one and he presses his body flush against you. “You may call me yours.”

Even though you know you’re treading a dangerous line, you wrap your arms around his neck and mumble into his mouth, “I like the sound of that.”

He fits his lips on yours again and the last of your apprehensions wither away. You kiss until you’re dazed and breathless, clinging to him as if you’re intoxicated. Every one of your sighs and moans are swallowed in heated, open-mouthed kisses, each more sloppy than the last. He’s still massaging your pleasure points with a dozen circular suckers, all of them attaching to you like persistent barnacles, and you arch into his grasp, a string of pleasant praises falling from your lips.

“Feels good... Really good. Hah...”

You grab at him for another kiss, and he closes the gap in seconds, his hand resting upon your lower back to keep you pinned against him. Your fingers tangle through his hair, and it is indeed softer than the clouds above. You think he might have been modeled after a deity because it’s nearly impossible to fathom how he can look and sound so divine, even in the midst of mindless ecstasy. You’d worship him entirely if you could, though you know that doing so would only feed his ego. But maybe you want to inflate it a little, if only to be granted the smiles and laughter you’ve fallen for ever since you found yourself trapped in the net he’s cast.

Azul does not suppress his needy whimpers when he separates from you, his face twisting into the approximation of blissful desperation when he drags a thicker tentacle along the lips of your pussy. You moan around a teasing remark, your own playful composure slipping into submission.

“Wanna put it in,” he mumbles hastily, nearly panting his desire, and he’s flushed blue from stimulation. “Please, angelfish...”

“Mm, yeah... G-Go ahead.”

More tentacles hold you steady in the water, and you peer deep into his sea-tinted hues, hoping to catch sight of his very soul.

“Just...take a deep breath. I’ll be gentle. It’ll fit.”

“You look like you’re holding back. Am I that tempting?”

He sighs dreamily. “You have no idea how much I wish to ruin you right now.” The tip prods at your entrance; you bite your tongue in anticipation. “I want nothing more than to stretch you wide enough so that no one else will be able to ever again—to mark you from the very inside so that you’ll be addicted to my every touch. That way—” It pushes past rings of tight muscle and a subdued groan spills from his lips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and you’re certain you’re leaving half moons in his skin. If it hurts, Azul doesn’t seem bothered by the pain. Instead, he holds you even closer, peppering your face with dozens of fleeting kisses. “That way... Haah. That way you’d only look at me. You’d only need me to properly fill you. No one else could ever satisfy you like I can...”

Most of his ramblings fall on deaf ears, for you’re so focused on the way your pussy stretches to accommodate him. He’s much bigger than any human male, but that’s to be expected considering he’s not fully human, and even if the stretch is more uncomfortable than you thought it’d be his attentive touches distract you from most of the ache. You pull him in for another kiss, squeezing your eyes shut, but then the tentacle working its way inside you suddenly bottoms out so deeply that you tear yourself away from him, choking on a gasping moan. You bury your face in his shoulder, crying out in a mixture of pleasured pain, and Azul brings a hand to the back of your head, stroking slowly.

“You’re doing so... Mmh... So well, angelfish. I told you it would fit without issue.”

“That...was way more than just the tip!” you hiss, and his delirious laugh comes out strangled.

“And yet it went in so easily! We were made for each other. See?” He rocks the tentacle once and it fills you entirely, further stretching your gummy walls. When you pull away to survey it you can see its outline bulging against your stomach. Azul sighs happily. “You’re so pretty... And all mine. Mine to mark and fill forever.”

All you can manage in response is another feeble whine.

His hand comes to rest on your stomach. “When you’re officially mine, I’ll kiss you here every night.” To cement this promise, the tentacle pokes at the spongy opening to your cervix and you melt in his hold. His deceptive blues flit to your eyes, which then admire your lips and then your stomach and then the way your pussy has swallowed so much of the tentacle that’s writhing within you, and a smirk sharpens on his lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my dearest angelfish?”

“Yes. Of course. Always,” you babble dumbly, numb to rationality. “That sounds like... Aah, like a dream.”

You roll your hips in an effort to take more of him, and he responds by thrusting the tentacle in and out of you, searching for a suitable pace. Any other words quickly melt in your mouth, reduced to mindless utterances of pleasure. Azul’s self-control seems to be slipping much like your own logical nature because he’s gripping you tighter than he was before, his tentacles curled possessively around every inch of you, as if he must mold himself to your form to truly connect as one with you. He’s tugged your bra down in his impatience and your breasts spill out with newfound freedom, though both are quickly covered by a reaching tentacle. His suckers affix to your nipples, and you throw your head back in pure bliss.

“It’s a dream that will soon be our reality,” he whispers, and a tentacle grasps your chin to guide you into another messy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth.

You lick into his mouth with desperate fervor, swallowing the taste of him with every magnetizing connection of your lips. The tentacle that pistons in and out of you continues to batter your sensitive cunt, leaving you clawing at his back as you move your hips to the best of your ability, shamelessly moaning the filthiest of things. How good it is. How you never want this moment to end. How no one else could ever fuck you as good as Azul can. You think, for a split second, you’re losing your mind because Azul is the only one whose image is imprinted in your brain, strung up in your thoughts like a constellation in the night sky.

You’ve never felt so overwhelmingly full before, and you’re almost certain that by the end of this you won’t be able to think of anyone else because there isn’t any other person who can possibly compete with Azul’s octo-mer form.

At some point, amidst every delicious suction and touch, you can feel your climax mounting, and Azul moans so salaciously when you tighten around him. But just before you cum, he’s suddenly pulled out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You stifle your disappointed whimper when he turns you so that your backside is pressed against his front. Two tentacles curl around your legs, spreading them wide, and another set hold your arms apart. He embraces you from behind, hands closing around your breasts, and the tentacle slides in in another quick, deep thrust that has your vision whitening.

Azul’s lips practically sear your neck when his teeth graze your bare skin. “Octo-mers are venomous,” he warns, as if it’s a reminder you ought to remember. “But I’d never—mmh—never hurt you. Just wanna keep you numb and dumb for me. Numb so that you can’t run away and—” He breaks off with a whimper, panting wet, hot breaths in your ear. “And dumb so—hah—dumb so...”

He’s quickly derailed from his ramblings, his pace having spiraled into something erratic and quick, and the tentacle is practically pummeling your cervix now. You’re crying in his arms, a broken wail ripping from your throat when he sinks his fanged teeth into your neck to muffle his own waterfall of love cries as he fucks into you a few more times. Another tentacle splays across your stomach, cradling it gently, while the one inside you stills at the entrance to your womb, filling you to the brim with copious amounts of viscous cum. There’s so much that it leaves you completely stuffed, and when you gaze at your stomach through teary eyes it’s bloated in a way that makes you appear pregnant.

In the midst of your own orgasm, which descends upon you so suddenly that it has you squealing, you manage a few semi-coherent phrases, all admitted in a garbled rush: “Please fuck me forever! You feel so good! Oh, I’m... I’m cumming!” You stiffen against him, struggling to catch your breath, while the tentacle limply fucks you through the aftermath. “L-Love you... I love you, Azul!”

“Me too!” he exclaims, gasping, and tilts your head so that he can capture your lips once more. You taste salt, ink, and blood all at once, and the contrasting flavors linger on your tongue when he pulls away. “You’re my everything... My perfect, pretty angelfish...”

You’ve never been anyone’s everything before, but right now you want to be exactly that for him. That, and so much more.

“Do you really mean it?” you whisper hoarsely, still catching your breath. Every word seems to dry up in your mouth, as if your own voice is shriveling from the sheer amount of stress it’s undergone. You wouldn’t be surprised if it’s reduced to a mere mumble come morning. “Do you like me?”

“Did I say that?” he teases, and you squirm in his grasp. He laughs and strokes your stomach to settle you. “Humans and their loveless sex traditions continue to baffle me. I couldn’t possibly picture myself chasing a relationship in which love is nonexistent.”

“We call those one-night stands.”

“Fascinating. Where I’m from, we refer to such relations as ‘eat or be eaten.’” A dark fingernail traces its way from your hip up to your ribs. “Shall I devour you now that we’ve thoroughly enjoyed ourselves?”

“If that’s the case, have fun tasting all of the cum you’ve emptied in me,” you joke and he stiffens, his face coloring blue. You crane your neck to shoot a disapproving look at him. “You really had no issue cumming inside, Mr. Azul ‘Just the Tip’ Ashengrotto.”

“Yes, yes. Forgive me for succumbing to my instincts.” He rolls his eyes with an indignant huff, a grin settling on his flustered features. “If you’re so worried, you can choose from all sorts of contraceptives, some more magical than others.”

“They better be magical! With how much you came I wouldn’t be surprised if I was pregnant within the next few weeks.”

“Could you imagine?” he muses, spinning you to face him. The tentacle inside you twitches, but he doesn’t remove it. “The two of us. Parents.”

“We’ve skipped ahead too many chapters. I can’t even keep Ramshackle in good shape!”

“And yet there’s no one else I’d rather tackle parenthood with than you.”

You sandwich his face between your hands. He reaches up to touch each hand, his larger ones covering yours. For a long minute, the two of you hold eye contact until, eventually, you exhale noisily. There’s a numbness that’s become increasingly prevalent and is slowly spreading its roots with every passing second, and you suspect Azul is to blame.

“Azul, you didn’t.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to, my dear.”

“‘Octo-mers are venomous,’” you repeat in a silly tone, and that prompts a devious smirk from him.

The tentacle inside you slides out, and you shudder bonelessly against him. Its slick tip prods at your lips next.

“Let’s continue our lesson from the library. I do hope you’ve taken adequate notes. You’ll need them if you want to recall octo-mer anatomy. But since I’m so very generous, I’d be more than willing to thoroughly teach you.”

Azul is just as insatiable as he is cunning.

Rustling sheets rouse you from your slumber. You blink through crusted eyelids and snuff the groggy yawn that rises in your throat, peering at the figure who lies on his side, his stare fixed on you. A smile softens his features when he notices you’ve awoken and he reaches out to pet your cheek.

“Good morning, my dear. Actually, I should say good afternoon. It’s rather late in the day, but you deserve to sleep in. You had a long night.”

It was definitely long, you think, recalling what felt like hours of endless sex. You’re not sure how you wound up in Azul’s room, where the scents of sea salt and chamomile tea combine effortlessly, but you think he might have carried you here after your late-night tryst. Your memory halts at the moment when you went limp in his arms and he’d stilled inside you to spatter your walls with thick, plentiful amounts of cum. After that, though, reality falls away and you’d found yourself swimming weightlessly in a dream composed of calm oceans and a breathtaking coral reef beneath still waters. Now, lying beside him in his bed, underneath a shell-like canopy that obstructs the ceiling’s light fixture, you bury your face in the pillows, thoroughly worn to exhaustion. Azul’s melodious chuckle fills your ears.

“You tasted like the sweetest pudding,” he adds cheekily. “A little salty as well. It was very delicious.”

The callback to an old joke has you swatting lazily at him.

No fair. You’re supposed to be the one who tastes like pudding, you try to say, only nothing comes out. You lift your head and attempt to speak again. Like before, there isn’t a single sound that tumbles from your open mouth. Confusion dawns on you slowly, almost like a rising sun, and you grab at your throat to try to force the words out. All you can do is open and close your mouth uselessly, and your befuddlement quickly morphs into raw horror.

Azul smiles and props himself on his elbows, head tilted curiously. “What’s that? You’ll have to speak up. I’m afraid I can’t hear you.”

I can’t speak! you want to shout, but it’s become impossible to will your tongue into action. You clamp your lips shut and glare, hoping one question comes across clearly: What did you do?

“I suppose you’re looking for this, right?” He reaches under his pillow and withdraws a nautilus pendant. It glows faintly when he fastens it around his neck. When he speaks next he sounds exactly like you, even down to the breathy lust your tone had taken on while you were in the throes of an orgasmic high. “‘Please fuck me forever. You feel so good! Oh, I’m cumming! L-Love you... I love you, Azul!’” He clears his throat and his voice deepens. “As musical as these words are, one of those phrases is forbidden. You’ve violated our contract, my dear, and so now your voice is mine to keep. I promise to take good care of it while it’s in my possession.”

Foolishly, you open your mouth to exclaim, but he cuts you off with your voice.

“‘But I never even offered my voice as collateral! You can’t take what isn’t yours!’ is what you wish to say, yes? On the contrary, if you’ll recall, I specifically told you that uttering the phrase ‘I love you’ would lead to this mishap.”

You said no such thing, you think bitterly, but then you’re hit with his cryptic warning from long ago: It’s best if you keep your voice for other admissions, lest you find it locked away for all of eternity. Upon realizing that he’d dangled the truth in front of you from the very start, you bring your hands to your face in hopes of scrubbing the regret from your muscles. You were too absorbed in trying to maneuver his mischief back then that you failed to pay closer attention to his wording, and now it’s landed you right in the trap you were attempting to avoid. I messed up. I messed up big time.

“Your voice really is marvelous! I could get away with so much now that it’s mine to use. Where should I start? Ah, perhaps I should call some of your friends and tell them how much (Name) can’t stand to be with them? Or maybe it would be better to ruin your little ‘business’ before it can spiral out of control. Better yet, I should just—”

You lunge at him without much forethought, scrabbling for the necklace in a blind, frustrated panic. Azul laughs at your desperation, a little too pleased to engage in the scuffle. You’ve managed to pin him beneath you, your hands curled so tightly around his arms that your knuckles grow sore from the sheer pressure of your grip. He looks up at you, a mocking grin pulling his lips apart—lips you’d kissed more times than you’re able to count. Lips that you’d thought would be truthful for one night. Lips that run faster when telling perfectly orchestrated lies.

Azul’s gaze crawls down your neck, where a dozen circular-shaped bruises paint your flesh, evidence of the areas his suckers had once lavished with tight suctions.

“There’s no need to be so aggressive, Miss Megamouth. If you wanted me that badly, you could have just said so. Oh, wait. You can’t.”

You slimy cephalo-punk! You sneer at him, a dozen curses trapped on your tastebuds. I never should’ve trusted you!

Part of you wants to slap him, but the other part—the part that still clings to the affection you received last night—has you restraining the violent urge. Angry tears well up in your eyes instead and you release him, sitting back on your haunches. You wrap your arms around yourself despite the sheer, lacy robe that provides a semblance of cover. He was right. You really can’t beat him at his own game.

“Don’t look so glum. Fortunately, I’m willing to negotiate an exchange.” He sits up, smooths the wrinkles in his nightwear, and removes the pendant. It’s dangled before you, the charm twisting innocently, and you reach for it, only for it to be ripped away with an accompanying tut. “Not so fast. If you want your voice, you’ll have to give me something of equal value.”

What could possibly have the same worth as my voice? your disbelieving expression seems to inquire.

Azul grins and leans down to procure something from the safe at his bedside. A golden contract scroll winks at you under the light, and you throw your head back with a silent groan.

Another deal. Of course. What was I expecting?

“I’ve given the road that lies ahead plenty of thought, and I’ve realized that I can’t imagine a future without you. Since you were quite vocal about your feelings for me—” He stops short to peer past the contract and at you, a single brow raised. “That was the truth, was it not?”

Slowly, you nod, suddenly hot with embarrassment. You’ve never truly despised Azul. In fact, ever since you signed his contract and became his friend with benefits, you’ve found yourself falling even further into an unexplainable love. Even now, when he holds full control over your vocal fate, you want nothing more than to pull him under the duvet and make a mess out of him in this luxurious bedroom. By some strange miracle—perhaps it’s the delusional film that’s obscured your eyes ever since you met him, twisting his every trick into something attractive—you find yourself admiring the air of self-satisfaction that surrounds him.

Azul’s next smile is far more sweeter than its predecessor. “Good. In that case, I also love you.”

Your reaction must have betrayed your true thoughts because he barks out an amused laugh.

“Is it really so surprising? I’ve loved you for quite some time now.”

For once you’re relieved he has your voice because it prevents you from sounding like a flustered, speechless mess. All this time and he actually liked me? Azul likes me. Me, who can’t compete with him on any level? It almost sounds like a cruel joke.

“Did you think my flattery and gifts were empty and meaningless? I can assure you that everything I’ve said—every compliment and sweet nothing—has been the undeniable truth.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“I’m serious! You’re so critical. That stings, angelfish.” As wounded as he looks, he’s quick to recover, shoving the contract at you for your perusal. You read through every line. “Fret not. I’ve drafted another arrangement that will benefit the both of us. In exchange for your voice, our current relationship will be nullified and we will officially become lovers. You’re to put an end to your affairs with the other students. From now on, I’ll help you with every problem that comes your way. Although it would be very convenient if you could just move into Octavinelle and take up a job at the lounge. We’d be much closer. I promise I’m a very kind boss. You’ll be paid wonderfully, both in and out of the lounge.”

You glance at him, brows furrowed. Is that really all he wants? A real relationship and for me to stop getting involved with everyone else? As ideal as that sounds, it feels a little too good to be true. But what other options do you have? Without your voice, you’re powerless and vulnerable, unable to stand up for yourself when the students get too rowdy. You’d be forced to agree to your friends’ every whims, and that would mean allowing Grim to empty your monthly budget on whatever it is he happens to be craving at that moment. It’s a predicament with plenty of terrible outcomes, and the only thing that can prevent such an issue is your voice.

“You look at me with such distrust. I was very transparent with our first contract, was I not?”

He was, in a way. You look between him and the contract. It’s shorter than the previous one, every term outlined stiffly in cursive. This one feels too simple to be a contract drafted by Azul’s intelligent hand, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe things will only get complicated after you’ve signed and have found yourself in another inescapable mess.

But isn’t this a good thing? You like him and he likes you. He can grant your every wish and this time you won’t have to forsake your own pleasure in order to ensure his needs are met. And you won’t have to tiptoe around his deceit. The both of you will be in equal standing, in a relationship where honesty and mutual understanding are valuable facets of a loving bond. You like him, after all, and he likes you.

So why does your love feel empty and insincere? Why does it feel like you’ve woken from a long, everlasting dream to face the harsh backhand reality serves?

Azul twirls his magic pen and that mystical fishbone pen materializes. Its tip is already stained in ink and it’s poised just above the parchment. You look at him again and he nods encouragingly.

“I meant it when I said I love you, and I will continue to mean it for the rest of my days.” He reaches for your hand and you flinch away. This stops him, and he narrows his eyes at you, perplexed. “I will always love you, angelfish. You’re the only one I’ll ever love.”

You wish you could force him to prove it, but even then you’re not sure what else he could possibly do. But then you realize something and you pantomime writing. Azul catches on rather quickly because a ballpoint pen and a notepad appear before you. Hurriedly, you scribble something on an empty page before turning it towards him.

If I sign your contract, you have to promise no more tricks. And you have to get me the most magical contraceptive you have. And you have to be a good boyfriend.

“No more tricks. You’ll get the best of the best, both from the contraceptive and me,” he promises, and this time there isn’t any malice behind his smile.

And I won’t lose my voice again in the future? is the following written inquiry.

“Not unless you scream yourself silent the next time we—” Your unimpressed scowl cuts the rest of that sentence short. He chuckles and takes your hand in his. Your other grasps the fishbone pen. “Do we have a deal, my dear?”

You look from the notepad to the contract, where a nameless line awaits your penmanship. There’s a weird ache in your gut—a foreboding dread that has you hesitating. Azul seemed so angelic last night, but in the crisp light of his bedroom he’s a devil with concealed horns.

Do you honestly love him, or was that simply something you uttered in the heat of the moment? Why is your love for him beginning to shrivel after it’s been growing for weeks? And why are you no longer happy to know he reciprocates your feelings?

I need my voice, you think, disregarding every other doubt. That’s all that matters right now. I’ll figure out my heart later.

You scrawl your name on the glimmering parchment, and like before it rolls itself up and Azul snatches it with a pleased hum. You watch him place it within the safe, which soon closes and locks with an echoing bang. Before you can theorize what the combination to open it is, he stands with the pendant clutched in a resolute fist.

“How unfortunate that I must break a perfectly good shell...” At your impatient glare, he raises his hands in surrender. “Very well. I’ll return it now. You wouldn’t be Miss Megamouth without your voice.”

With just a little more pressure he smashes the nautilus into a dozen brittle pieces, and from the debris your voice comes trickling through in an aureate fog. It surrounds you momentarily, like the smoke from a cigarette, before slipping through your open mouth, down your esophagus, and into your very being. You cough once, clear your throat, and croak your first words out.

“Did it work?” Upon hearing your rough pronunciation, you exhale a relieved sigh. “Yes, it’s back! Thank you!” Your happiness is short-lived, though, because you’re quick to turn your ire on Azul. He allows you to grab a fistful of his shirt and drag him up to your face. “Don’t ever take my voice again, you slimy sea creature.”

Azul smirks and leans in to kiss the tip of your nose. “So cruel. And after all we’ve been through...”

“Ugh. Whatever.” You release him and fall back onto his bed with a tired groan. “Seriously... That was terrifying.”

“I’ll get you something to drink so that your voice won’t be so gruff. Is tea sufficient?”

“What’s the catch?”

Azul clicks his tongue. “Must you be so wary of me? Can’t I do something nice for my dearest angelfish?”

“No, but you can certainly find some way to attach a dozen strings to a single cup of tea.”

“You know me so well, but this time I don’t need anything in return. I’m simply doing you a favor.”

You peer at him from where you lay. “Okay. I’ll take a cup then. You know the way I like it?”

“Of course. I’m nothing if not observant. I’ve brewed more than enough tea for you to know your preferences, down to the exact temperature.”

You nod, not quite listening to his boasting, and let your arm fall over your eyes. Azul steps out without another word, leaving you to dwell on the past few minutes. Though the contents of this second contract don’t sit right with you, you push your uneasiness aside in favor of focusing on the fact that Azul has admired you for a while now. You never would have guessed he’d loved you in silence because you only saw him as a lying cheat. Naturally, if he were to confess back then, you probably would have assumed he was trying to enlist your help with something. Either that, or he genuinely wanted to make your life miserable by subjecting you to some obscure con.

You wonder what part of you captured his heart. You’d made your dislike and distrust of him very clear, and you’d sneered at him every time he attempted to rope you into a scheme involving the Mostro Lounge and Ramshackle Dorm—it was something about a temporary branch café, but you wanted him and his grimy, slimy tentacles to stay far away from the property. Maybe his Overblot really did awaken something in him. Maybe he’d fallen in love with the you who was kind and patient—the you who visited his bedside every day while he recovered. Or maybe it was the you who soon became known for not-so-secret exchanges. Maybe he simply fell in love with the idea of squashing another business competitor. How that could happen is beyond you.

But then, if he really has loved you all this time, why did he want to engage in friends with benefits in the first place? It must have been awkward for him each time you’d come to service him, especially since you merely saw it as a contractual obligation. Had he pretended there was more to the act? Were his feelings for you the reason he treated you so carefully whenever you’d meet—so lovingly and sweetly?

At the very beginning of this, you vowed to undo every lock that kept the many facets of his personality hidden away. And even though you’ve come to learn some of his secrets, there are still so many things left for you to discover.

But do I really love him? It’s a haunting question—a lock that binds your heart and prevents you from unraveling the truth. Though with this one, you’re not quite sure you want an answer.

Azul returns with the tea and a pill, and you take both from him with a grateful smile. It tastes as it always does: floral and deliciously enticing. The fragrance soothes your frazzled mind, warming it to the thought of a relationship with Azul.

We’re dating now, you realize, awestruck. We’re dating...

“I feel like I’ve just finished sucking your dick,” you say, and he exhales a long sigh.

“I was going to say something far more romantic, yet here you are spouting obscenity.”

“But doesn’t it remind you of that? You’d always get me tea after our meetings.”

“Only because you were so intent on swallowing every time.”

“And you found it attractive every time.”

“Yes, yes. Spare me your ridicule.”

Now that you’re looking at him, with his unkempt hair and silken nightwear, the feelings you’ve attempted to stifle with uncertainty come swelling to the surface. He’s your boyfriend now. He’s yours. All yours to love and kiss and hold. All yours to tease and laugh with. He's the chisel who has finally sculpted you anew, filling your shattered heart with overwhelming sweetness, and this time you won’t turn away from it.

You open your mouth to ask a single question, but Azul beats you to it.

“May I kiss you?”

Grinning, you set your empty cup on his desk and tug him into bed. His arms lock you in a comforting cage, and he stares down at you with a lovesick smile. You hook your arms around his neck, mirroring his infatuation.

“Kiss me drunk, clownfish.”

A collection of empty bottles is locked away in Azul’s desk drawer, respectively labeled Love Potion. The intolerable flavor mixes well with floral teas, but that’s a trade secret you’ll never need to know.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #n/sfw #azul thought four #call him azul rizzengrotto because his rizz is immaculate!!!!#for once i have written an azul thought where azul is not actively suffering

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yois2aki · 2 months

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੭୧ chishiya with an introverted reader... . ۫

chishiya shuntaro x fem!reader (requested)

— warnings: fluff, maybe ooc chishiya, beach arc, fem pronouns, niragi doing niragi things, typical aib violence, swallowing razor blades lol...

— summary: chishiya is very enticed by the fact you seem to trust him so much, he can't help but tease you.

— word count: 1.6k

you were known around the beach, specifically for being on the quiet side, avoiding any compromising relationships, platonic or not, with people around you, knowing that would only be a flaw between others, especially in a place like the borderlands. people like this always managed to stand out more than intended between others.

it only half worked, though. when you first arrived in this sick world, it didn't take long for you to get invited to the beach, which you reluctantly accepted since there weren't that many options for you.

everyone there seemed untrustworthy and deceitful, especially the group of militants. so you decided to keep to your side, having a few acquaintances here and there but nothing too profound.

that was until a blonde guy named chishiya decided to do the job himself and approach you. you were never aware of the reason, but at this point, you didn't care. your only goal in a place like this was to never let your guard down next to others, but unfortunately, this man managed to make you. he could be using you all this time just to have someone to sacrifice when the needed time comes, and you would fall right onto it given how much trust you had put in him.

being friends with chishiya later on drove you to become friends with kuina as well, but still, you weren't as close to her as you were with the guy.

it turns out you were simply introverted, and having someone to confide in ended up helping you in a place like this, contrary to your beliefs. you'd continuously get teased by niragi for being so shy and reserved with yourself, but that didn't happen with chishiya. you could tell he was quite curious about your behavior as well; however, he didn't press it on you.

this reflected on the time you two spent together. you ended up sticking next to him more than you realized. people around the beach would be surprised if they went on a walk and saw one of you both alone. kuina was also after him sometimes, but it didn't compare to you guys's proximity. this only made him seem more suspicious, given that he only kept two people close, and even so, he would appear slightly reluctant to anything you guys did together.

before you could realize it, you were practically blabbering your mouth out whenever you were both alone, contrasting the personalities you made up around other members. and surprisingly, chishiya didn't complain, instead just staying silent for most of the time you talked. you weren't sure if he was even listening most of the time, apart from some occasional comments he decided to add when wanting to share his opinion about whatever matter caught your eye that day.

as of now, chishiya was sitting on the chair by his desk as you lied down on his bed, looking at the ceiling. his hands were moving around on a device, and you had no idea what half of its purpose was. sometimes, you would try and peek to see whatever he was doing with it, but upon recognizing the usual pliers and wires he must love so much, given he "spends more time with them than with you" (as you dramatically proclaimed a few days ago), you just gave up.

he looked very focused right now, and you knew better than to disturb him at times like these, but your boredom somehow managed to get the lead as your mind looked around for a chat theme.

"did you know that the human stomach can dissolve razor blades?" you ask out of the blue, your gaze still fixated on the ceiling.

he did not answer. instead, he stopped his movements around the device in his hands and gave you a side look. you could feel his gaze, so you immediately tried to explain.

"i'm not planning on anything!" you said it with a hurried voice, coming out with a tone of humor. "it's just a scientific fact."

he sighed, his attention turning back to the box to which he added two metals. it was now much harder to guess what the hell he was trying to make out of it.

"no, i did not know that." chishiya replied, his eyes never leaving the gadget he held as he kept fixing it. his voice was heard again shortly after. "but it's quite obvious, actually. the ph level in a human stomach varies between 1 and 3, which means it is very acidic. you could get away with swallowing a lot of things."

you could tell by the way he spoke that he tried to use easier words to make you understand, and honestly, that only made your heart beat faster and your cheeks redden.

"that doesn't mean you can do it." he stopped his movements for a second, talking with a stern voice, but quickly went back. he really looked more preoccupied with the piece of equipment.

you gasped as if you were offended by his remark, a chuckle leaving your lips right after as you rolled around on his bed. "i would never swallow anything suspicious. i'm not that insane."

"you considered pressing a button that had "don't press" written on top of it." he answered without thinking twice.

you laughed it off again, remembering how he had to physically pull you away from the tempting button you found together on a game you played. it consisted of finding the exit to a labyrinth as a killer chased the players. you knew where the exit was from the very beginning since, before entering the game, chishiya had the brilliant idea of going to a point high enough to study the whole arena. when you both finally finished the game, someone ended up pressing it, and the whole place blew up. at least you found out what it did.

"come on, i was curious!" you complained, still giggling, when the memories of chishiya being so done with you came back. "i would never swallow a razor blade, you know that."

"not even if it had "don't swallow" written on top of it?" he ironically asked, doing his best to make his voice come out nonchalant, but you could basically hear the smirk he held.

"chishiya!" you whined out louder, starting to laugh again.

after your fun died out, you got up from the bed and stopped beside him, a hand holding onto the back of his chair. "what miraculous electrical device are you making this time?"

at this point, chishiya didn't even question your choice of words, instead keeping his gaze on the item. "it's a taser," he replied sharply. "so i can bring some sense into the heads of idiots like you."

"i hate you." you admitted, rolling your eyes and turning around with a sigh, lying flat dead on his bed again. both of you knew you were not telling the truth, and he was about to tease you for it.

until he was brutally broken out of his line of thinking by an equally brutal niragi slamming the door open. you flinched at the sound, while chishiya just closed his eyes and sighed, frustrated.

"oi. executive meeting by eight o'clock. make sure not to skip it again, or the hatter might not like it." he exclaimed, referring to chishiya, not bothering about keeping his voice down or even lowering his gun to appear a bit more sociable. "oh. look who we have here..." now referring to you.

as niragi's eyes fell upon you, your eyebrows immediately furrowed as you looked away, sitting up on chishiya's bed, avoiding as much contact with him as you could.

"why are you always after this guy? there are so many better men in a place like this, and you choose him?" niragi asked with that sharp voice of his, which you profoundly despised, as he approached and pointed his gun at you. you didn't bother looking at it.

your cheeks were pretty warm from this whole interaction. you weren't scared of him physically hurting you, since chishiya wouldn't allow it and niragi knew it, but confrontations were always awkward with him.

you didn't even realize that chishiya finally let go of the device in hand, turning around in the chair and watching the scene with not too much interest. "she isn't that fond of me. actually, she just claimed to hate me."

your mouth fell agape as you looked his way with a gaze that could kill. you noticed he had a smirk, and all you wanted to do in that moment was wipe it out of his face, but you knew best with niragi there.

"oh, so she talks? now that's a surprise." niragi lowered his gun to his sides, chuckling at the end of his sentence. you could only lower your head in embarrassment and avoid any more conflicts.

"well, i'll be taking my leave. thanks for the attention, you both!" niragi yelled ironically, slamming the door shut behind him.

and as soon as he made his way out of the room, you turned your attention to chishiya, who had already mentally prepared himself to deal with your talking.

"i might not be the one dissolving a blade in my stomach, but i know who will." you said, trying your best to sound mad, which probably didn't work out because he didn't move a bit from his usual position.

"well, niragi might need to take care then." he said, turning around in his chair, back to his own world.

"i wasn't talking about him!" you rolled your eyes, fuming and concluding that it was useless to argue with him.

in truth, your tantrum didn't last much longer than 5 minutes, since soon you were already chattering about whatever came into your mind next. even if it seemed like not, chishiya was always listening, often adding a comment or two, but at this point, it was routine for both. it was entertaining to him to see how different you could be depending on the people present in the room and how you became much more comfortable with him around. he took pride in that.

— a/n: waaah this was so fun to write!!! i love making chishiya an insufferable one so i hope this was okay and fitted your likings... i think i ran away a little bit from the topic but i wanted to make chishiya as in character as possible because imo that's what makes him so interesting. ohh i love a jackass of a man......

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itsgxsly · 1 year

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back to you | part 1

Pairing: pierre gasly x reader

Summary: You didn't think you could hate the same man you loved. But Pierre had achieved just that, and now he has to do whatever it takes to make you forgive him, and maybe to make you fall in love again.

word count: 1,2k

warnings: smut

Everyone says that time heals everything. Time makes us forget. It makes us forget the grudge, the pain, the bad memories. Sometimes even people.

Unfortunately that had not been your case.

You did not know at what point in your life you had fallen in love with Pierre Gasly. It could have been one of those many times you'd seen him when you accompanied your brother to the Paddock, or maybe it was when you'd met by chance over the holidays and he'd greeted you with that brilliant smile. The same smile that you hated now, or at least that's what you always told yourself.

Pierre had always been polite to you. You were Carlos's little sister, one of his friends in Formula 1, so he had always been nice to you, even flirting with you on occasion, but without giving any sign that he felt anything beyond a formal relationship. Pierre was not a man of long-term relationships, and you were already well aware of that fact. You knew from your brother and some of the rumors going around the Paddock how his other relationships had ended. Maybe that should have been your first warning so you didn't get carried away that night long ago. Maybe you should have listened to your subconscious and walked away from it.

It's not like you planned for one second to end up the way you did that day.

It was common that during the summer break some drivers met sometimes outside of the constant competitions that Formula 1 brought. That Saturday had been one of those meetings, and in the end you had all ended up in a club in Monaco, where most of them lived, dancing and enjoying the night until the wee hours. You weren't usually a big fan of alcohol, so you were only minimally dizzy. From your place at the bar you could see Charles dancing strangely and you guessed that he already had more drinks than he could count. You couldn't see your brother, but you assumed he was talking to Lando somewhere. You could also see some of the guys' girlfriends chatting or dancing on the floor.

Distracted by keeping your eyes attentive to others, you didn't notice Pierre approaching you from behind until you noticed two hands placed on your shoulders. Startled by the sudden movement, you turned around, letting out a sigh of calm when you saw who it was.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you” while Pierre was apologizing you noticed how he slurred his words a bit and you smelled the alcohol in his. It seemed that he was enjoying his night.

You allowed yourself a few seconds to get a good look at him. From his hair a little shiny with sweat to his chest, covered by a white linen shirt that he wore partly open, revealing his chest hair and his chain with a cross. You turned your gaze back to his face and realized that maybe you had taken more time than you should watching him, because he was already looking at you with a smirk.

"Have you seen anything you like?" He asked you slightly tilting his head and getting a little closer to you.

You couldn't answer him, too distracted by his closeness. Pierre had never behaved this forward with you, but you blamed the alcohol in his body for making you blush like that.

“Is there a problem, chérie?” His voice was almost a whisper now because of how close he was to you. You hoped he couldn't tell how fast your heart was beating.

“Pierre…” You wanted it to sound like a warning, but it had to sound more like a plea from the way he looked at you.

"Tell me, chérie" his tone of voice was playful. He got closer to you if possible, caressing your waist with his hand lightly.

"Pierre, you're drunk" you reminded him in an attempt to get him to get away from him, but you didn't make any attempt of your own to get away from him either.

"I'm not that drunk. I know perfectly well what I'm doing” his words sounded self-confident and unfortunately for you, you believed him completely.

You should have thought better at the time. But when Pierre looked at you like that, you didn't hesitate for a moment to grab his hand and let him take you to the hotel where he was staying. You didn't think of any consequences along the way, too focused on his hand circling your thigh, close to where you needed it most.

You didn't think of anything when you arrived at his hotel room and Pierre guided you to bed between heated kisses, a fight of tongues and teeth while you undressed.

Pierre pushed you on the bed and you let yourself be controlled by him.

"Lie down, ange" was a simple command.

Once in bed his hands were all over your body. Your waist, your chest, your hair. Your hands went straight to his muscular back and then caressed his abdomen. He bit your bottom lip lightly and you let out a soft moan.

Pierre stopped kissing you and took off your underwear, you didn't have time to complain because he had stopped kissing you before he started leaving a trail of kisses down your chest and down to your stomach. Just with that he already had you completely wet. He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders, making you tense as he moved closer to your center.

You knew you weren't going to last long the moment you felt his tongue on you. Pierre didn't take long to find the rhythm that made your head spin with pleasure. His tongue worked at that rate without leaving a single spot unattended as his nose brushed against your clit. It didn't take long for you to feel that heat in your stomach and reach what you could have considered one of the best orgasms of your life.

Pierre looked at you from his position between your legs, your breath quickened and your face satisfied. He moved closer to you again and kissed you, letting you taste your own taste on his lips.

"Pierre" you begged his name, wanting even more of him.

"Tell me what you want"

“Fuck me.” You didn't know where that sudden confidence had come from, but you were desperate.

And he did it just as you asked. Pierre knew full well what he was doing. He knew how to bring every orgasm out of you and leave you shaking by the time he's done with you. You prayed that someone from the hotel wouldn't complain about the noise.

You didn't even move from the bed when you finished, both of you too tired from the hectic night. Pierre hugged you from behind and you let yourself fall into his warmth.

You felt like in a dream, in the arms of the man you could even say you had fallen in love with a long time ago.

But dreams are not always reality, and you verified it that same morning when you woke up.

Pierre was not there with you.

You thought that he could be in the bathroom or that he had gone out to train, but despite the fact that you waited for him for a while, he did not return. Neither he nor he returned your calls when you called him. Neither he nor he answered any messages. You went home embarrassed, angry and heartbroken.

Pierre was gone and it was clear that he wanted nothing to do with you.

author note: I had this fic waved for a while and now it's real. I don't know how many parts it will have, but I'm excited that it's my first complete story. And as Pierre's girl, my first fic had to be about him. Don't judge me too much for the smut, it's my first time writing it🫶🏻

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justabigassnerd · 2 years

Text

More Than Friends

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 4,147

Warnings - swearing, passing out, mentions of not eating/sleeping, mutual pining (dumbass edition)

Summary - y/n and Bradley have had crushes on each other since forever. Only problem? They're both dumbasses

A/N - not sorry about a new Rooster fic. Y'all don't stop me, y'all get whatever the fuck I decide to write. Yes, reader's callsign is Pegasus again I think I'm gonna stick with that for fics where reader is an aviator unless y'all really hate it. Anyway, I'll stop rambling now. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!

It was a typical Friday night at the Hard Deck. It was packed with navy personnel grouped with their friends as they drank and laughed. You and your friends in Dagger Squad were huddled in your usual corner, hogging the pool table to play amongst each other. You were playing against Bob as the others chatted and watched the game.

“I’m getting another round.” You hear Rooster announce to the group mere seconds after the all too familiar bell rang, signalling that someone was going to be paying a round for every person present in the bar right now. You glance up at Rooster from where you were lining up your shot at the pool table, seeing him coming over to you.

“Hey Rooster.” You smile, straightening up after taking your shot and watching as Bob moves to take his turn.

“Hey y/n/n. I’m getting us a round thanks to that lovely gentleman over there. Is there anything in particular you want?” Rooster asks, smiling at you as he stops just in front of you. You were fighting to keep the blush from your face at Rooster’s proximity, you had harboured feelings for him not long after the two of you hit high school, and you kept it secret for the sake of your friendship. You two were best friends, as close as can be and you’d not ever dare ruin the security of your friendship by admitting your feelings. You knew there was no way he liked you back anyway, so you were content with just staying friends. When your dad Maverick pulled Rooster’s papers from the naval academy, your friendship was threatened but after some explanation and pleading on your part, Rooster finally understood that you had nothing to do with what your dad did and so allowed you back into his life. After all, you were his best friend. That close call with your friendship was enough to scare you off ever admitting your feelings, almost losing him was terrifying, you never wanted to experience it again.

“You know what I like, Bradshaw.” You laugh, shaking your head as you turn back to the game when you catch Bob gesturing to the table with a small yet smug smile, impressed with himself. Rooster rolls his eyes just before you turn away and then crosses to the bar to ask Penny for more drinks. As Rooster walks away, Hangman crosses to you.

“You know Bradshaw totally likes you right?” He says once he reaches you, resting his arm on your shoulder.

“We’re friends Seresin. I’d be offended if he didn’t like me.” You scoff, shrugging his arm off your shoulder and getting ready to take your next shot.

“You know what I mean.” Hangman teases, poking you in the side just as you take your shot, making you squirm and mess up your shot.

“You’re so infuriating.” You groan as you stand up straight.

“And you love it.” He fires back with his signature cocky smirk, laughing as you shake your head.

“Unfortunately I do, because you’re one of my best friends, much like Rooster is.” You emphasise, watching as Bob takes his next shot.

“You know I hate to admit it, but I agree with Hangman. Rooster definitely has feelings for you. And it’s no secret you like him too.” Phoenix cuts in, crossing to you and taking the pool cue from your hand, taking your go for you.

“I don’t see any evidence that he feels like that.” You reply, glancing across the crowded bar to where Rooster was still patiently waiting for his drinks, striking up a conversation with Penny as she serves drinks.

“Trust me, he’s unbearable whenever you come up in conversation. If anyone mentions anything he could remotely relate to you he’ll be talking about you for hours. Also, he looks at you like you hung the moon. He has it bad for you.” Payback joins the conversation now, an empty beer bottle in his grip as he waves his hands around. Gradually more and more of Dagger Squad join the conversation, insisting that Rooster likes you.

“What’s got you guys all riled up?” Rooster asks, coming over with a tray of drinks for everyone.

“Hangman here was insisting he’s a better pool player than me.” You lie smoothly, smiling over at your friend who places the tray down on the nearby table, waiting for everyone to take theirs before he handed you your own drink.

“Well you’ll just have to prove him wrong now, won’t you?” He grins as you take a sip from your drink. You nod wordlessly and take the pool cue Phoenix was holding while Hangman takes the cue from Bob. Phoenix gives you a quick wink as you roll your eyes. Rooster sets up the game as you glare across the table at Hangman, knowing that if you looked at Rooster you’d be reduced to a blushing mess. His muscles flexed perfectly as he adjusted everything, and his sun-kissed skin was glowing under the lights of the Hard Deck. When he finished setting the game, he straightened and smiled at the two of you.

“May the best player win.”

As the two of you began playing, Rooster grabbed his beer and stood alongside Bob, making small talk as they observe the game.

“So, when are you going to admit your feelings for Pegasus?” Bob asks subtly, making Rooster choke on his drink. Since joining Dagger Squad, Bob had broken out of his shell a bit, being more comfortable with his team as time passed. When Rooster looked over to his friend, he saw a cheeky grin on his face.

“We’re just friends Bob. Besides, there’s no way she likes me like that.” Rooster says once he’s recovered from his coughing fit.

“Rooster, she definitely has feelings for you. It’s so easy to see.” Bob insists, grabbing a handful of peanuts and eating them. Rooster glanced over at where you were fist-pumping, bragging as you potted yet another ball while Hangman insisted it was a lucky shot and a gentle smile graced his face. Rooster had come close many times to admitting how he felt for you, but he always held himself back, reminding himself that he'd rather keep you as his best friend than lose you because he admitted his feelings.

When you finished your game of pool, beating Hangman within the next couple of turns, you decided to head home, not wanting to stay up too late. Rooster caught sight of you bidding goodbye to everyone and weaving your way in and out of patrons to get out of the bar.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mitchell?” He calls as he gets out of the bar, smiling as you turn to face him.

“Heading home, Bradshaw. You heard me in there.” You laugh as you face him.

“By yourself? In the dark?” He asks worriedly, glancing around at how dark it had gotten while you were all in the bar. He knew you were tough; you could fend for yourself much better than most, but it didn’t stop him from being terrified when you did things like walk home alone in the dark. When you nodded your head at his words, he instantly dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his Bronco.

“Nope, come on I’ll give you a lift. I was planning on heading home soon anyway.” He says, gesturing towards his car. You sighed jokingly but followed him to his car, climbing in the passenger seat as he got behind the wheel. The drive to your house was quiet, the sounds of the radio preventing silence as Rooster drove. You kept stealing glances over at Rooster, admiring the way his eyes shone under the streetlights. When you reached your house, Rooster stopped the car and turned to you.

“See you tomorrow. Good night y/n/n.” He says with a soft smile, making you lean towards him, enveloping him in a hug which he reciprocates without hesitation. As you climb out of the car and walk up the path to your front door, he keeps an eye on you, his body feeling as if it was on fire from the hug you had just given him.

The next time the team tried to get Rooster to admit his feelings was when you and the team decided to hold a movie night at your place. You had settled on one end of the sofa and Fanboy all but shoved Rooster to sit next to you as the rest of Dagger Squad took up every available seat, with some actively choosing to sit on the floor just so Rooster would end up sat next to you. When everyone settled down with snacks and takeaway pizza you played the movie. As the movie plays, Rooster ends up stretching his right arm across the back of the sofa. You weren’t aware of him moving his arm, but your subconscious caused you to lean closer to him as you tug the blanket you had wrapped around you closer. Neither you or Rooster were aware of your movements, you were so used to each other’s presence and being close wasn’t a foreign feeling for the two of you. Now filled with food and getting warmth from both Rooster’s close proximity and the blanket, you found it harder to keep your eyes open as the movie played. The lights were off and the only light in the room was coming from your tv, so you doubted anyone was going to notice if you dozed for a while. Your eyes closed for but a moment and the next thing you knew, you were slumping against Rooster’s side, his arm now wrapped securely around you.

“Sorry.” You mumble, moving to pull away but Rooster tightens his grip ever so slightly.

“You’re okay, you can sleep.” He whispers reassuringly, softly running his hand up and down your arm, lulling you back to sleep within seconds. Rooster tried to keep his gaze on the movie, but he couldn’t help looking down at you every so often, smiling when you snuggled closer to him. He loved the way you fit perfectly in his arms, and when he finally got the confidence to do so, he rested his cheek atop your head. However, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Coyote looking at him and shot a glare his way.

“Not a fucking word.” He hissed, knowing if Coyote started talking now, the whole group would start causing a ruckus and he wanted you to get some rest. Coyote’s eyes widened slightly at Rooster’s tone, but he quickly shook his head with a slight laugh.

“Geez Rooster, protective much?” He teases, making Rooster’s jaw clench as he carefully lifted his head off yours. The glare Rooster was firing Coyote’s way was finally enough to get him to back off. When the movie eventually ends, Phoenix turns the main light on, and Rooster instinctively shields your eyes with his hand, so you don’t get woken up.

“Phoenix, turn the light off.” Rooster says quickly yet quietly and when Phoenix realises you’re asleep she listens, turning the light off while Payback leans over to turn a nearby lamp on.

“Look at you, Bradshaw. So whipped for your girl.” Hangman grins as Rooster rolls his eyes.

“She was tired, I wasn’t going to let her sleep uncomfortably.” He defends as Fanboy laughs.

“And that’s why you’re practically cuddling her? You didn’t want her to sleep uncomfortably, sure. But you have Pegasus nice and comfy in your arms. When are you going to tell her how you feel?” He says through laughs as Rooster feels his face flushing red.

“Okay guys, let's wrap this up now.” Bob says, even though he would join in on the teasing occasionally, he knew when enough was enough.

“I’m with Bob. Now’s not the time. Let’s go before any of you guys royally fuck up.” Phoenix says sternly, pointing towards the door and every member of Dagger Squad, except Rooster, get up and cross to the door, bidding Rooster a quiet and awkward goodbye. When the door clicked shut, your eyelids began to flutter slightly, and you began to stir.

“Roo?” You ask quietly, curling further into him as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah?” He responds, waiting patiently as you open your eyes, glancing around for the rest of your friends.

“Where’d everyone go?” You question, the tiredness still evident in your voice as you shift your head to rest on his shoulder.

“They went home. I didn’t want to disturb you.” He explains, fighting back a frown when you pull out of his arms, rubbing at your eyes with your hands.

“I totally underestimated how tired I was. I’m sorry for falling asleep on top of you.” You apologise, stretching as you speak.

“It’s fine, y/n/n. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep on me.” Rooster teases, laughing as you shove his shoulder gently.

“I should get to bed. You should think about doing the same. According to dad, tomorrow’s training isn’t going to be easy.” You laugh, standing up and moving to the bottom of the stairs while Rooster heads to the front door, tugging his shoes on and just as he turns around to say goodbye, you wrap your arms around him for a quick hug which he returns without hesitation.

“Good night, Bradley.” You say softly before pulling away, allowing Rooster to move to open the front door.

“Good night, y/n/n.” He replies before finally exiting the house, gently closing the door behind him.

When Rooster had gone, you tidied up the living room before taking yourself up to bed to sleep. As you lay in the double bed, you found yourself missing Rooster’s embrace. He was always naturally so warm, and you were freezing, huddled under your duvet for warmth, wishing you could have Rooster’s arms around you once more to help lull you to sleep.

The day Rooster finally admitted his feelings for you was the last day he would’ve considered doing such a thing. You and Hangman were prepping yourself for your training session up in the air with your dad.

“Ready for me to beat you up there?” Hangman teases, pulling his aviators off and shoving them in his flight suit pocket.

“In your dreams, Seresin.” You scoff jokingly, shaking your head but immediately regretting the action. You’d been training so hard recently; you’d neglected to take care of yourself. You didn’t sleep as much as you should’ve been, and you’d often forget to eat. Any free time you had was researching flying techniques or getting one on one dogfight lessons with your dad when you could convince both him and Cyclone into letting you borrow the fighter jets for a bit. You had been exhausted the past few days, but you refused to let up, being just as stubborn as your father. When you shook your head at Hangman’s cocky attitude it made your head spin. Everything suddenly lost its focus, and the next thing Hangman knew was you were passing out right in front of him. Thankfully his brain kicked into gear quick enough to catch you before you hit the floor, kneeling down while holding you. He looked around frantically, hoping he could see someone who could help him. Within seconds, Maverick appeared in front of him, gently shifting you from Hangman’s arms to his own.

“Hangman, what happened?” He asks quickly, glancing from you to Hangman.

“She just passed out. I didn’t do anything I swear!” Hangman says defensively.

“I didn’t say that you did, and I know you wouldn’t do anything.” Maverick replies calmly, noticing you beginning to stir.

“Hey, sweetheart. Back with us?” Maverick asks sweetly, helping you sit up carefully as you open your eyes, blinking as you gain focus on your surroundings.

“What happened?” You ask, leaning against your dad as he looks down at you.

“You fainted. Damn near scared the crap out of Hangman here.” Maverick replies, nodding over at Hangman who still has worry written across his face.

“Sorry, Hangman. Didn’t mean to scare you.” You laugh weakly as Hangman smiles with relief.

“Scare me like that again Pegasus and you’re buying my drinks for a month.” He says, shaking his head jokingly as you mock salute him.

“Alright, Hangman you go and grab Payback and Fanboy. Tell them they’re training with you instead now.” Maverick orders and Hangman doesn’t waste a second in getting up and going in search of Payback and Fanboy.

“So, any explanation as to why you might have fainted?” Maverick asks as he helps you to your feet, leading you towards the Top Gun building, ignoring your complaints.

“Maybe I forgot to look after myself a little because I was focused on training?” You say, your inflection making Maverick turn to face you, concern all over his face.

“y/n, answer this next question honestly for me. When’s the last time you ate a full meal or slept a whole night?” Maverick asks and when you remain silent, trying to think of an answer he shakes his head.

“Okay, you’re getting some rest. I’m taking you to the rec room and then I’ll grab you some food.” Maverick says, taking you to the rec room, being grateful it was empty and sitting you down on the sofa before making sure you’re comfy.

“Dad, I’m okay.” You insist, grumbling at his overprotectiveness.

“You just passed out. You need to eat and rest. You’re staying here and you’re not training until I think you’re better. I’m saying this as both your father and your superior. I just want you to be okay, sweetheart. You can understand that, right?” Maverick says, sitting down beside you and you see the worry in his eyes as he spoke.

“I understand, I’m sorry dad.” You say, wrapping your arms around your dad in a hug which he returns.

“It’s alright. Now, I’m going to get some water and some food for you. Stay put, okay?” He says after you pull away, standing up and pressing a kiss to the top of your head before exiting the room, leaving you to lie back against the sofa cushions, not knowing what to do with yourself.

Maverick made his way to the food hall and grabbed one of your favourite meals along with a bottle of water and as he started the walk back to where you were he bumped into Rooster.

“Hey Mav, I thought you were training with Hangman and Pegasus.” Rooster questions, wondering why his godfather is walking around the halls with food when he knows Maverick never passes up a chance to train his pilots.

“I am going to take Hangman for some training but not y/n, Payback and Fanboy are going in her place.” He says, regretting not explaining straight away when worry crosses Rooster’s features.

“What happened to y/n? Why is she not training?” He asks worriedly, not removing his gaze from Maverick.

“She passed out earlier. She’s not been taking care of herself the past few days, so she needs to eat and rest up. Tell you what, you take this food and water to y/n. She’s in the rec room. Make sure she eats. Cyclone will have my ass if I don’t get to training soon.” Maverick explains, handing the food and water to Rooster and holding back a laugh when Rooster turned and immediately headed in the direction of the rec room, wanting to check up on you as quickly as possible.

“Goose, please send your son some damn courage so he can finally make his move.”

Rooster entered the rec room rather ungracefully, barging through the door and nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush. Your head snapped in the direction of the noise and immediately felt your head spin, making you lie down and squeeze your eyes shut to try and rid yourself of the feeling.

“Are you okay? Mav said you passed out earlier.” You hear the familiar voice of your best friend ask as he crosses the room to reach you.

“I’m all good Rooster. Don’t worry about me.” You say, throwing him a thumbs up and opening your eyes when the dizzy feeling subsides, making you brave enough to sit up once again.

“Have we met? I always worry about you.” Rooster says as he sits next to you, putting the food on the table in front of the sofa and handing the water bottle to you. You thank him quietly and take small sips from the bottle.

“Mav said I had to make sure you eat so you’re stuck with me until you do so. But be warned: take longer than five minutes to start eating and I will start the whole aeroplane thing with the fork.” He continues, smiling when he gets a laugh out of you. You pick up the box of food and the cutlery and dig in when you realise what it is. As you ate you could feel your body thanking you for each mouthful of food and every sip of water. When you finish the food, you place the now empty box back on the table and slump back against the sofa, feeling full and satisfied.

“That is exactly what I needed.” You say with a smile as Rooster shakes his head, watching you with a soft smile.

“You better start taking better care of yourself, Mitchell.” Rooster replies, nudging you with his shoulder as you roll your eyes.

“You know you didn’t have to come just because my dad told you to, right?” You say, turning to look at Rooster as his expression shifts.

“I didn’t just come because your dad told me to. The second he told me you weren’t training with him, and Hangman I knew something must’ve happened for you not to be training. When he said you passed out, I was already getting ready to come and check up on you. You’re my best friend.” He says, bringing you into a hug, resting his chin atop your head. As you hug, you hear him whisper.

“Talk to me, dad.” His small whisper makes you adjust yourself so you can look up at him.

“What’s up, Roo?” You ask, noticing him flush red at your question, clearly embarrassed to be caught out.

“It’s just you only say that when you’re about to do something you’re worried about. What’s got you so worried?” You ask innocently, making Rooster fight the urge to not double back on his next words.

“I like you, y/n. As in, more than a friend way. Have done since our high school days. You’re beautiful and amazing and I’ve fallen so hard for you. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way it’s just so hard keeping this in.” Rooster blurts, pausing once he finishes and beginning to second guess himself by your silence.

“Bradley, I feel the same. Ever since high school I’ve liked you as more than a friend I was just so damn scared of admitting it because I didn’t want to lose you as my best friend. We came close to it when dad pulled your papers so I figured it would be better keeping you as my best friend than losing you completely.” You admit, both of you now grinning ear to ear at the other’s confession.

“Can I kiss you?” Rooster then asks, leaning in, his breath tickling your face as he speaks and when you nod, he wastes no time connecting your lips. The kiss was slow and sweet. One of your hands rested on Rooster’s shoulders while your other found its way to the back of his head, your hands instinctively playing with his hair. Rooster was the same, one hand in your hair, messing with it while the other was resting on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You didn’t want to break the kiss but when the need for air became too much, you were forced to pull away, panting as you rest your forehead against his.

“I must say, Bradshaw. That kiss alone made the years of pining worth it.” You say with a cheeky grin as Rooster smiles.

“Come here, you.” He says playfully, bringing you in for another kiss. Once again, the two of you didn’t part until you needed to breathe. You always used to say that being hugged by Bradley Bradshaw was the best feeling in the world. At this moment you decided nothing was better than kissing him.

“How about I take you out on a date. Friday sound good?” He asks, laying back against the sofa cushions and tugging you into his side as you rest your head on his chest.

“Just text me a time and a place, Bradshaw.”

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerdwrites #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #maverick x daughter!reader #pete mitchell x daughter reader

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kremlin · 7 months

Text

An earnest call for your support: Help me determine if there is a gas leak in my house.

for a long time now, I have been reading and hearing about This Guy on the news, and have been reading all the articles and stories about him:

Above: Sam, tenting his weird-ass fucked up fingers like a real Wall Street Guy might do in a movie he saw

Yep, you already know this guy, his name is Sam, I'll be referring to him as Sam, as that is his first name, and not by his initials, which is what I imagine a pod person might do in an attempt to emulate human behaviour. Whatever. You already know him and what he did, I won't waste your time. Listen. Pay attention. This is not a post about this guy or what he did. That shit is boring as fuck. This is a post about a potential gas leak in my house. We'll get to that in just a bit. Remember.

I've read all the articles and all the op-eds and everything. About Sam. Let us explore the entire spectrum of media coverage of Sam and Sam's Big Ass Problem, starting from the bottom, with the worm-food-tier jackasses: What do people like Jim Cramer and Shark Tank Guy have to say about him?

Above: CNN's "Mad Money" Jim Cramer also doing a weird hand gesture while he tells your alcoholic cable-news-addicted uncle to put his money in some dumbass shit

Above: I think this is the Shark Tank guy? I don't remember his name. Could have sworn his suit had dollar signs and not question marks (?)

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Sam is a boy genius who is super duper smart and can move objects with his massive brain due to knowing about Tech, FinDom FinTech, and computer money, specifically Money Coding. Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court".

Moving on from the worm-food-tier to the mediocre-tier: The totally nameless basic bitch journalists at the New York Times or Bloomberg. What do these assholes have to say?

Above: Jim Fuckface, associate financial correspondent for Bloomberg. Jim enjoys winding down on a Friday afternoon by sipping a Bud Lite Lime and wearing his baseball cap backwards, which bears the logo of his local professional sports team.

Above: Kate Fuckface, columnist at the New York Times. Kate enjoys spending her time chatting and interacting with her friends on Social Media Platforms like Facebook and Instagram, as well as purchasing items on Etsy

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Displaying the characteristic awkwardness of incredible technical and financial genius, it was clear to me during our interview that Sam's depth of knowledge truly knew no bounds. Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court."

Finally moving on to the people that might actually have a clue about what they're talking about. Sam Levine and Michael Lewis:

Above: Matt Levine, author of a comedy email newsletter named Money Stuff that is 95% financial information by weight and somehow still usually funny as fuck.

Above: Michael Lewis, author of a bunch of really good books you haven't read that were made into pretty decent movies you have seen: Moneyball and The Big Short.

I'll summarize their conclusions: "Sam sure is a smart kid and seems to know a whole lot about economics and this digital currency, and I mean a whole lot, and even more about business, accounting, and finance. Bright kid! Unfortunately Sam committed massive fraud and will get his ass fucked in federal court."

A pretty goddamn clear consensus across the board on both counts.

I listened to the interviews the entire spectrum of people listed above conducted with him -- the ones during which they unanimously concluded how smart he is. I listened to many hours of ad-hoc, unscripted Twitter Space calls he participated in, where he fielded questions about his fraud and his business with complete strangers. I listened to them very carefully. And here is my problem! I came to a different conclusion!

Sam is a fucking moron. I am not talking about solely his intellect, or solely his decision-making abilities, or any specific criteria. I am talking about all of them.

There are two possibilities:

(A) I am correct and, somehow, literally everyone else is incorrect, most of whom know vastly more about these topics than I do

(B) There is a fucking gas leak in my house and I have completely lost all cognitive abilities, suddenly and unwittingly, and exist in a cartoon reality inside my skull that would allow me to reach such a wildly different conclusion from the same evidence.

The likelihood of (A) being correct is very nearly 0%. I mean, come on. I am not fucking around when I tell you how troubling this is for me. I wrote earlier that this isn't a post about Sam or his bullshit. This is a post asking for your help in determining whether I have lost my god damn marbles.

I'll give Sam one thing -- he has some nominal ability to bullshit. If he's writing a Tweet, or making a short statement, he can finesse his words that, on some level, mask how much of a dimwit he is. He absolutely can't do that through about six hours of unscripted interviews. Listen to that shit. Listen.

I am going to go check all the joints in the gas lines in my house as well as the ports on my stove and heater. I'll come back and write a follow-up post on outlining exactly why I think homeboy is an idiot. While I do that, please, go listen to the interviews and tell me what you think.

#words

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icycoldninja · 3 months

Note

Hi !! Could I request something with jealous or overprotective Vergil? If youd be interested in writing anything like that, but no worries if not!! Love your work! 🌻💖

Fear not, I love writing stuff like this. Thank you so much for requesting, hope you have a great day. Enjoy!

Jealous of his brother (Jealous!Vergil x Reader)

Vergil had a problem that he refused to talk about: he got insanely jealous whenever you were around Dante. He couldn't, and refused to, explain why he felt this way, but he did.

Maybe it was because Dante was so charismatic and easy to talk to, and he wasn't. Maybe it was because Dante didn't look as intimidating as he did, or maybe it was because Dante had the confidence to do things Vergil wouldn't even dream of doing.

Whatever the reason was, it made Vergil very insecure and envious of Dante whenever he saw the two of you together--just watching you greet his brother made his blood boil. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it, except sit and fume in silence, as he was doing right now, while he watched you and Dante chat about the latter's experience during a recent mission.

"...Yeah, then one of those Hell Caina bastards came stunblin' towards me, so I leaped outta the way like this-" Dante did a backflip, pulled his pistols out, and landed on the ground with his guns extended. "Then I pulled the trigger and ripped 'em to shreds!"

"Wow, nice!" You praised, clapping. From over in his seat, Vergil scoffed. Like that was so impressive, a stupid backflip. He could do a triple-spin mid-air! "That's pretty cool, you think you could teach me to do that sometime?" You asked, making Vergil's internal temperature rise even further.

"Love to. How bout this weekend?" Dante replied. When you nodded, Vergil stiffened like a board and clenched his fists.

"Sounds great," You responded, beaming. "I'll see you then. Bye." Dante winked at you, then walked off, presumably to partake in whatever debauchery he usually did. Vergil, on the other hand, busied himself with more noble goals: following you down the streets to your shared home. Once you had set foot through, closed, and locked the door, Vergil circled round to the back of the house, and from there, opened a portal with the Yamato because he never took his keys. He stepped through it and emerged in your living room, where you were reading a book.

"Y/N." His voice suddenly echoing from the corner startled you, but you quickly composed yourself.

"Hey Verg," You responded, setting down your book and standing up to hug him. Vergil accepted your embrace as stiffly as he always did, but something felt off this time. He appeared even more tense than usual, a sign that something was bothering him. "You alright?" You asked, gently rubbing circles into his back.

"...No," Vergil admitted, after a long pause. "No, I am not."

"What's wrong?"

"I...overheard you talking to Dante, earlier," Vergil confessed, sighing and wrapping his arms around you. "I...suppose...I got....jealous."

"What? Jealous? You?" You giggled, sinking deeper into his hug, flattered by the fact that he would feel jealous of someone because of you. "Why?"

"I...well...I was envious of Dante...." Vergil cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Because he...because you....seemed so...comfortable around him." You looked up at him, eyes widening.

"Really?" You asked, amazed. "You got jealous...because I was getting along with Dante?" Vergil let out a low grumble and looked away, his pale cheeks beginning to tint pink. You grinned and hugged him again, as tight as you could. "Idiot! Like Dante could ever replace you! We might be friends, but that's it! Nothing more." You reached up, cupped his check, and directed his gaze down to you. "No matter what, I'm always gonna love you, Verg. You're my favorite Sparda twin." Vergil's expression softened at these words, and he leaned down to place a brief kiss to your cheek.

"Thank you, Y/N. I am thankful for the affirmation." Vergil could now breathe easier, now that he knew his jealousy was unfounded and that you would always choose him over anyone else. The man of motivation was even more motivated now that he knew he was your favorite son of Sparda. Take that, Dante!

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fuctacles · 4 months

Text

For @steddielovemonth day 12th prompt by @acasualcrossfade

M | 1383 | cw: trans pregnancy | modern AU, ftmEddie

Steve wakes up and does the first logical thing that all people do. Checks his phone.

He blinks at the bright screen trying to decipher his notifications and sighs when he realizes the group chat is flooded with messages. It’s nothing new, although it never hit 99+ before. He scrolls up to catch up with whatever his friends have been up to at night. Wonders if he’s the only one that uses nighttime for rest.

He’s groggy with sleep and as he passes through the chat log, he’s struggling to make sense of the messages he’s seeing.

>>How about a gender-neutral one?

>>I vote Elrond!

>>WHO’S GONNA BE THE GODPARENTS

He scrolls and scrolls and finally reaches The Photo. And things, unfortunately, start to make sense.

It’s a photo of a pregnancy test.

He immediately goes to his chat with Eddie. Tries to type a message, fails, and hits the call button. It takes a considerable amount of time for Eddie to pick up.

“The fuck do you want?” he growls upon answering, voice thick and distant. Steve clearly just woke him up but he couldn’t give two shits about it right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me first? Wait, is it not mine? No, wait, you can tell whoever you want, of course, but, is it mine?”

“What?” Eddie sounds tired and angry which, fair, it’s 7 AM, not his usual waking hour.

“We skipped the condom a couple of times, but you said it’s not possible, not with all the hormones you’re taking. I’m not mad, I’m not panicking, I just need to know.” Okay, maybe he was panicking a bit, but not bad panicking. It’s just not something he’s prepared for. Is he ready to be a dad? Would Eddie want him to be the dad? Would Eddie want to be a dad? Would he even want to—?

“Shit, fuck, do you want it? Are you okay with your body doing… this? Are you okay?”

“Okay, deep breath, please.” Eddie sounds much more awake now and Steve follows his instruction, anxiously awaiting answers. “I’m not okay; I feel, frankly, betrayed by my body, but I think we’re talking about two different things. Why did you call me? So early, may I add?”

Eddie’s calm. So Steve can be as well. He breathes in and out.

“I saw the group chat. The photo?” He bites his lip. Maybe Eddie hoped he wouldn’t see it at all?

“What? Hold on.”

Steve holds, listening to the shuffling on the other end. He hears the springs on Eddie’s bed creak and thinks it’s finally time to get him a new mattress. Or, if Eddie is up to it, move in together.

He flinches when the soft shuffling of the bedspread is broken by a loud snort, followed by manic laughter.

Wasn’t it too early for mood swings?

“Stevie, baby,” Eddie finally wheezes out.

“Yes?” He perks up, eager for answers and hopeful from hearing the pet name.

“Please put on your glasses and look at the photo again,” is all Eddie says, before bursting back into laughter.

Steve frowns but reaches for his glasses, resting on their usual spot on his bedside table. Once secured on his nose, he opens the chat again and goes straight to the media folder to open the photo in question. He squints his eyes at it.

It’s a covid test, clear as day.

“You’re not pregnant,” he deadpans.

“Nope. Just good old corona.”

“Shit.”

Steve falls on his pillow, completely drained from the emotional rollercoaster. He thinks about calling in sick. He’s too humiliated to show his face to the world and, besides, how is he supposed to teach kids when he’s such a dumb idiot himself?

“And, for the record,” Eddie continues once his chuckles subside, unaware of Steve’s inner turmoil. “I would tell you first, and it would be yours. It’s just been you for a while and I’ve never fucked without a condom before.”

Steve did not know that. He slaps a hand over his mouth so no embarrassing sounds come out at the revelation.

“But yeah, it wouldn’t be possible on my current hormone cocktail. And I don’t think I’d ever be prepared for a little alien growing inside me. It’s one thing to say fuck gender norms for one day and wear a dress and another to completely overturn my body’s ecosystem for a year, maybe more, without turning back.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods because that’s all he can do. He knows a lot about Eddie’s body by this point, but possible pregnancy is not something that comes up in daily conversations.

“Besides, I’ve been talking with my doctors about getting an oophorectomy, so that will be off the table soon anyway.”

Steve frowns, not liking the sound of that but not wanting to assume anything. Again.

“What’s that?” he asks instead.

“Ovaries removal,” Eddie answers easily. “So the hormones they produce don’t fuck with my T shots.”

“Huh.” It will never cease to both anger and amaze Steve how much trans people have to go through to be themselves. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Mhm. How are you feeling?”

Steve frowns at his ceiling.

“Me? You’re the one with covid.” The fact suddenly, finally, sinks in. “Shit, how long will you be quarantined?”

“Just a week, don’t worry. But I’m asking because you kind of deflated there.”

Steve huffs.

“My boyfriend has covid, of course I’m—”

“No, I mean, are you disappointed you didn’t put a baby in me?”

Steve chokes on saliva and air, and has to sit up on his bed to take a proper breath.

“Eddie,” he wheezes out in a warning, his face going beet red.

“Are you?” he presses.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Open cards, baby. It’s not on the table, but I won’t be mad if you want it.”

Steve sighs. He worries this kind of thing might break their relationship. It was a topic he avoided, not only with Eddie, but with others he dated before him. Not many people their age are ready for kids talk, for a commitment like that.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Sorry if it’s a deal breaker.

“Don’t be sorry. Nothing bad about wanting to knock up your boyfriend.”

“Eddie.” This time his warning comes with an amused breath.

“What? Just because I won’t do it doesn’t mean I can’t play along.” He can hear him smirk from the other end of town where Eddie’s apartment is. “It’s no condom town, baby, from now on. I want all your cum inside, pushing it deeper with your fingers when you pull out. I’ll keep it inside while we watch TV. And then we’ll go again and again until it catches. Until you give me the baby you want so much.”

Steve whines, eyes closed and imagination running wild.

“Shit, I’m so wet. Didn’t know I have a breeding kink. Huh.”

“Jesus Christ Eddie, you can’t do this to me at the beginning of your quarantine!”

“Well, you’re the one who brought up kids! Which, I think we should have a serious talk about once I’m back in the world.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and presses his eyes closed with resignation. He should have seen it coming. He loves Eddie, which is exactly why he’s been avoiding the topic of a future together, of kids, of a family.

“Yeah, sorry I’ve been holding back but I think I’m ready to make this serious if you are.”

Steve makes a sound. Questioning and confused because it’s all he can give him now.

“I know it’s a long shot, but we could adopt, or find a surrogate. I can wear a belly if it does it for you? Dunno, we’ll figure something out. If you want to, of course.” He’s rambling, which is a sure sign that he’s being sincere.

“I want to,” Steve assures him quickly. He is so relieved, so excited and full of love, that he’s about to cry. “I love you so much.” And there it is, his voice is already shaking, eyes wet.

“I love you too, baby,” Eddie coos back. “Now, can we get back to the horny part? I know you have to get up for work soon.”

Steve laughs at that, hand promptly sliding down his body.

“Yeah, let’s.”

#covid au #inspired by markiplier #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #mine #ff #steddielovemonth #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #modern au #ftm eddie munson #trans eddie munson #transmasc eddie munson #cw: trans pregnancy #cw: pregnancy #tw: pregnancy

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patchworkgargoyle · 1 year

Text

Dudes Kissin' Dudes

So this post broke my writer's block...

Buckle up for a fluffy fic of Eddie thirsting over Steve at the bar after he overhears him tell Robin he's kissed dudes before. Modern AU, aged up, first meeting and first kiss, rated T, 3.1k words! Also posted to ao3!

One of the things Eddie loves about bars is people watching. Some nights he'll just sit at the counter and observe the throngs of people. It’s fun to admire their looks and their clothes and the way they dance, sometimes to make up stories about them in his head about who they are, why they’re here, what they’re in search of. He’s gotten quite a few NPC ideas from it, the occasional character or two.

The other thing he loves is the buckwild stories he overhears. No one gossips like loose-lipped drunks. He weaves some of those into his campaigns too but mostly he just gets to have a good laugh or a sigh of relief that he’s not living out that particular drama.

The bar Eddie visited tonight was a little further than home from usual, but the queer scene there was always great and there was a live band playing that he’d seen a few times before. He’d heard a few good stories tonight too–a woman walking by exclaiming about some roommate entanglement gone wrong, one person’s aunt having been arrested for an illegal zoo complete with an emu that almost disembowelled a guy and then escaped–so it’d been worth the longer trip.

For now, he sat at the bar nursing his third drink, one elbow propped up as he scrolled through instagram to snoop on whatever his friends were up to and hoping the lull in patrons passes. A couple people had come up to chat, but no one sparked any mutual interest. It was fine, he wasn’t really on the prowl tonight.

Or so he thought.

Two people approached the bar, just one stool’s distance away, and Eddie’s eyes flicked up from his screen on instinct. The one furthest from him, with a dirty blonde bob, wore a bright patterned shirt and suspenders combo that screamed lesbian, to which he gave an internal nod of approval and solidarity, but then her friend pulled up beside her. And oh. Oh, her friend.

In the dim lighting of the room he still somehow shone just a little golden. Mole-flecked, with a strong nose and wide, easy smile. Warm eyes that sloped in a graceful downturn made him look a little soulful. And his swooping brown hair that fell with a touch of deliberate unkemptness that made Eddie want to mess it up, see if it was as soft as it looked, dig his fingers in and pull. He can’t look at the guy’s lips too long or he’ll start imagining things he really ought not to do outside the privacy of his own bedroom.

Unfortunately he also wore the straightest outfit he’d seen all night: khaki shorts and a white and blue striped polo. He would’ve looked right at home at a frat party, even ordered a bland pale ale those types chug right from the keg. Sighing, Eddie returned to his phone. There was no way he’d waste any more energy mooning over a straight man. Of course, that doesn’t mean he won’t eavesdrop.

Settling in, the pair leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd. They started to catch up and the woman–Robin, he learns–went on a rambling rant about a needy client at what sounds like her translator job. Apparently the friend’s name was Steve, if Robin’s shouted, “Twenty-five pages in two hours. Two hours, Steve!” was anything to go by. He just listened with encouraging head-nods and appropriately offended gasps as he drank, sometimes surveying the other people mingling or dancing. Eventually, he stopped her with a smack to her shoulder, and pointed with the hand holding the bottle off in a corner.

“What about her?” he asked with an eyebrow wiggle, and Eddie narrowed his eyes as he stared at this guy.

“God, no. She’s way out of my league,” Robin says. Eddie relaxes, glad he’s not about to listen to some dude creep on someone.

“Are you crazy? Robs, leagues don’t exist, for one-”

She cut him off, claiming, “That’s what hot, confident people say to make us awkward ducklings feel better.”

“You’re not an awkward duckling, you’re a very majestic full-grown lady duck. And I bet you twenty bucks that lady duck over there would be thrilled if you crossed this pond to talk to her.”

“Please, for the love of god, never call me or another woman ducks ever again. That’s just weird.”

Sputtering, Steve said, “I was just following the- the metaphor!”

Eddie valiantly contained a snort while Robin rolled her eyes so hard her head rolled back with them. He appreciated the dramatics. But, looking at the woman Steve referred to, Eddie saw his point. He kept it to himself, but he believed in Robin.

Steve levelled a determined look at Robin. “Listen, I’m a phys ed and history teacher, not english, you get what I mean. You could absolutely sweep her off her feet.”

Frowning, with only a tiny bit of a stubborn pout, Robin fussed with the curling corners of the label of her own beer. “Well, what happened to this being girl’s night, huh? If I go home with someone–which I’m not saying I will, dingus– then you’re probably gonna have to hang around the bar all sad and alone and stuff.”

“Honestly, I’d probably go back and watch a movie with Roommate Greg.”

Robin made a face. “Not Greg. I can’t wait until he moves out.” Sighing, she finished her drink, left the bottle on the counter and asked the bartender for another. “I’d feel better if you’d be able to find your own lady duck here, but I think you’d be out of luck. If only you liked kissing dudes too.”

Eddie gave a silent, slightly ironic amen to that statement. But then, as if the gods themselves heard his plea, Steve said something that nearly had Eddie spitting out his drink.

“I mean, I have kissed dudes before.”

Robin went silent as Steve’s head turned to face her, her eyes wide, mouth open. Eddie’s phone screen had enough time to go black as he waited, on the edge of his stool, to learn more about this very handsome Steve kissing dudes sometimes.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve told you this before, Robs, it’s not that shocking.”

“Apparently you haven’t! I definitely would have remembered if my very straight male friend suddenly confessed to me that he’s ‘kissed dudes,’ plural, to my face,” she said, both hands gesturing wildly. She almost knocked over her refill.

God, Eddie wished he could see Steve’s face now, but he refused to move much in case they both realise he’s desperate to hear what comes next. He couldn’t even look away, he just stared like a weirdo, but he couldn't help it. This was juicier than killer emus. Eddie flat-out refused to acknowledge why, despite the tiny thrum of excitement in his chest.

Shoulders falling with a heavy sigh, Steve shook his head and leaned further into the bar, all too casual for this conversation in Eddie’s opinion. “It’s not that big a deal, jeez. Sometimes, with my old friends-”

“You do not mean Tommy and Carol.” Steve was quiet and Robin’s eyes got even wider. “You do not mean Tommy and Carol!”

“Well, yeah, it’s just. Y’know, when you’re hanging out at a bar and you’re at that happy tipsy point, not drunk, like, you’ve still got all your awareness or whatever, sometimes you just wanna show your friends you’re happy they’re around.”

“By… kissing them.”

“Uh-huh.”

“On the lips?”

The shrug Eddie witnesses is surprisingly easy for the sheer amount of obliviousness Steve was clearly carrying. “Sure. I won’t do it with someone who wouldn’t want it, of course, and after Carol saw me and Tommy do it a few times she’d asked him to stop, so we did, but if you’re confident in your sexuality it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“Steve. You are like my platonic soulmate and brother wrapped into one, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, but you are, on some occasions, extremely dense.”

“Hey,” Steve said, sounding offended, and Robin placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean you’re stupid. But sometimes it takes some time for things to click, my guy, and this might be one of them.”

Eddie couldn’t help but agree at least a little, having struggled with his own comphet demons, but even as an out and proud bisexual he certainly never kissed his friends unless he was trying to annoy the shit out of them or they were in a “with-benefits” situation. There were so many more ways to show appreciation than to tenderly kiss your buddies on the mouth.

As Steve started to speak again, someone walked up to the stool between Eddie and Steve, his eyes on Eddie. With a slightly mean grin, swung his foot up onto the stool with a clang and said, “Sorry, waiting for a friend.” The guy left with a judgemental side-eye but Eddie couldn’t care less. When he glanced back at Steve, Robin caught his eye with a confused look, and Eddie quickly unlocked his phone to pretend to be busy, hoping the low lights hid the slight flush in his face. It’s not like he hasn’t been caught doing this before, but in this case Eddie really, really wanted to hear the conclusion to this conversation.

“Let me get this ‘straight,’” Robin began, “you’ve kissed Tommy, on the mouth, multiple times.” Steve nodded. “In front of his girlfriend.” Another nod. “With tongue?”

“No, never with tongue.”

“But like, softly. You’re not mashing your faces together.”

Steve sounded annoyed when he stated, “I know how to kiss, Robin.”

“Humour me.”

“Yes, it was soft.” He’d crossed his arms now, and Eddie had to force his eyes away from Steve’s biceps.

“Did you… enjoy it?” Robin asked, much more gently than the rest of her inquisition.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it.”

“I know I’m thoroughly a lesbian but I cannot fathom enjoying kissing Tommy Hagan even if I wasn’t.”

Steve snorts at that and some of the tension leaves his shoulders at the joke. “It’s not just Tommy, though, like I’ve done it with Jonathan, so it’s not just one person.”

Robin’s lips curled inwards like she was biting back something she desperately wanted to say, but wouldn’t. With one long breath in, then out, she said instead, “Okay. So. Two guys you’ve enjoyed kissing.”

“And Argyle. He’s great about it, actually, we kiss all the time.”

“Three. Guys.”

“Guy friends,” Steve clarified, as if that helped anything.

“That’s like this far away from being boy friends.” She held up two fingers that were basically touching, right in Steve’s face, and he swatted her away with a laugh. Taking her hand back, she leaned forward instead, asking, “Have you ever, I dunno, tried kissing a guy who isn’t a friend?”

Something in Eddie’s gut dropped at the question, making room for butterflies that had absolutely no right to be there and needed to vacate immediately. At the same time, a tiny, loud, selfish part of him wanted to raise his hand and yell, “pick me! Please, for the love of everything holy, unholy, and in between, fucking pick me!”

“What? No. That’s rude, I’m not just gonna walk up and kiss a stranger, I’d either be a massive creep or get punched.”

“Not if you ask, and especially not in this bar. You’re allowed to experiment, if you’re open about that.”

Silence lay thickly between them as Eddie watched Steve tilt his head to the side. Like he was actually considering it. He even let out a small “huh” and Eddie felt the seconds slide by like molasses, his own head tilted down at his phone but his eyes fixed on that perfect head of hair just a few feet away. Slowly, Steve turned so his back was to the bar again, and Eddie saw those puppy dog eyes glancing over the other patrons.

“Have you even seen anyone checking me out, though?” Steve asked.

Robin stared right at Eddie, and he swore his heart stopped. Oh fuck. “Probably the guy who’s been looking at you like you’re his last meal on death row all night.”

Oh fuck.

Twisting, Steve finally noticed Eddie. If his heart had stopped when Robin completely caught him out, it started back up again at a rabbit-fast pace, blood rushing straight to Eddie’s cheeks and ears, staining them bright red. Having the full force of Steve’s gaze on him was equal parts awful and wonderful and deeply fucking embarrassing. It was worse when Steve started looking him up and down, eyes tracing a languid path down Eddie’s body and along the leg still resting on the spare stool.

He knows what he looks like, and it’s nothing like Steve. Lankier, dressed in all black and ripped denim. Eddie had just enough self-esteem to acknowledge he could attract a few people with his long curls and dark, intense eyes, but not enough to think that this guy right here, seemingly checking him out, would find anything all that appealing. And yet.

“Hey,” Steve said when he got back to Eddie’s face, all calm confidence.

“H-howdy,” Eddie squeaked, zero charm to be found.

“I’m Steve.”

“I’m Eddie,” he said with slightly more vocal control, and the slight smile that brought to Steve’s face could spawn entire hair metal ballads.

Steve readjusted so he actually faced Eddie, and Robin leaned on his back, peering over it with a conniving little smirk. “So I guess you heard all that,” he said, and Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh you totally did,” Robin said, grinning.

Eddie’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but all that did was make Steve chuckle. It wasn’t even a mean chuckle, he sounded amused, like they were all in on a joke instead of justifiably pissed that a stranger had heard their entire private conversation. Robin, also laughing, pushed off of Steve with a pat to the back and a “good luck,” walked off towards the dance floor. Eddie watched her leave with only a little bit of malice.

“So what do you think?”

His head whipped back to Steve, who’d stepped a bit closer. One of the track lights above highlighted the natural tan to Steve’s skin. Eddie bet he’d look stunning with a bit of glitter on his cheeks. “What?”

“About experimenting, dude,” Steve laughed, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I won’t push. I’m not a shitty person.”

“And you’re just. Okay with this.” He couldn’t help waving a hand between them with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” Steve’s arms were crossed again, making some frayed wires spark in Eddie’s poor, overwhelmed brain as he took in Steve’s patient, friendly smile. His lips made this adorable wide v-shape like that, and whatever remaining restraints held Eddie back from this idea swiftly dissolved at the idea that he could kiss that smile away, even if only for a moment. Even if he knew he’d probably think about it for a year, or, likely, more.

With a sharp exhale, Eddie said, “Fuck it. Yeah. Let’s do it.” He stood, finding he was more or less as tall as Steve, and dredged up every ounce of bravado he could manage. “Any time you wanna stop, you stop, ‘kay? I’ll back off.” He paused to lean closer, glanced down at Steve’s lips with all the hunger he’d been fighting off all night, then back up for effect. “But don’t blame me if I rock your world.”

“You’re a dork,” Steve teased but, if Eddie wasn’t imagining things, he sounded just a little breathless.

Eddie closed the distance. Instead of getting right to kissing, he gently nudged Steve’s nose with his own, ghosting his full lips over Steve’s and earning a tiny, frustrated huff, and finally, with a smile, Eddie dove in for a kiss. It was soft, like he imagined Steve giving all those other guys, and intentionally short. Eddie pulled away a smidge, only to find Steve chasing after him, his broad hands grasping Eddie’s belt loops and yanking their hips closer.

Their kisses grew more fervent. Hands roaming, Eddie got his wish and buried his fingers into that silky soft hair, his other hand cupping the small of Steve’s back and bringing them flush together. He could feel the small groan in Steve’s chest when Eddie pulled his hair just the right side of too hard and gave a short laugh. Steve swallowed it, drew his tongue over Eddie’s lips in a question Eddie answered by letting him lick his way inside. Fuck, Steve really did know how to kiss.

A push, and Steve was pressed into the bartop, his hands slipping to Eddie’s ass and kneading while Eddie had him pinned. He could feel Steve getting hard in his preppy little shorts, felt it against his own hardness and couldn’t help but grind into it, both of them moaning low into each other’s mouths as their kisses grew hungrier, sloppier.

Neither of them remembered where they were until hands slapped both of their shoulders and they jolted apart, pupil blown and lips pink.

“Welp, looks like you figured your shit out, dingus. I’m heading home with Chrissy here,” Robin wiggled her and the woman that was apparently Chrissy’s hands in the air between them all, Chrissy giving a little giggle.

“Hey, I knew I was right about the lady duck!” Steve said, still clinging to Eddie, and Robin groaned.

“Yeah, and I was right that it’s not straight to enjoy kissing your guy friends. Have fun, be safe, make good choices, give me the address of wherever you’re going,” she said, turning to leave, but glanced back. “Also, nice to meet you Eddie. I’ll probably see you around.”

Eddie snorted but waved goodbye before turning his attention to the handsome man he still had trapped against the bar. Steve was already looking at him with a mix of heated desire and genuine interest that bolstered Eddie’s ego considerably. “How would you say your experiment went, big boy?” he asked despite still being able to feel the results between them.

“Pretty good I think.” Steve’s hands wandered up under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, making his shiver. Shit. He wanted those hands everywhere immediately. “Wouldn’t mind a few more test runs though. Gotta follow the, uh, scientific method.”

“Of course, of course. We definitely need to see if the results can be replicated.” As he spoke, Eddie started to trail light kisses along Steve’s jaw, then down his neck.

“Fuck yes.”

P.S. If you got this far and liked this trope, but want something a little 👀spicier👀 may I recommend greatest hits by @/scarcrossdlvrs? (I didn't wanna tag you bc I didn't wanna force you to read this just to see why you were tagged! xD ) Enjoy!!

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #sav scrawls stuff

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 3 months

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i think you're onto something with the romance novels world and plot points needing to mirror the kind of outlandishness of the love story. bc the main characters are already inherently acting absurd just by falling madly in love in a month or whatever and then if you add in the contrivances of romance tropes, it starts to feel like whiplash trying to pretend the characters live in any sort of grounded "normal" world. Like when the author adds in a family conflict subplot where the MC is like in absolute shambles because her mom said something slightly passive aggressive at lunch. that reads as more jarring to me than like conflict being something ridiculous that her mom doesn't want her being a marine biologist bc they come from a long line of fishmongers. Give me absurd drama to match the over the top dialogue and character emotions, I knew it would be unrealistic it's a romance novel! I guess this applies more to romcoms, but the same would apply I think to an analogous serious scenario. Or at least that's my take on it

okay so having just finished genuinely the most boring romance novel I have ever read in my LIFE I'm going to expand on this a little so thank you for sending an ask that gives me such a great platform to do that

I personally generally prefer a romance that just gets fucking silly with it, like really outlandish. A Lady for the Duke (Alexis Hall) is obviously the dream, being a whole swoony historical trans-affirming fantasy, but contemporary fake relationship stories can also be fun in their sheer ridiculousness, like Love, Hate, and Clickbait (Liz Bowery), which I actually liked, and Unfortunately Yours (Tessa Bailey), which I did not like but was very funny. and let's not forget queen Helen Hoang's Bride Test, which has a premise that dances perilously close to human trafficking but all works out in the end!!!

BUT HAVING SAID THAT. I don't think that something needs to be totally implausible to be a good romance. two of my very favorites romance novels anywhere ever are Helen Hoang's Heart Principle (no one should be surprised Hoang is on her twice I adore her) and Akwaeke Emezi's You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty. both of these books are very grounded in reality but with very uncommon situations to heighten emotions and add urgency; in Hoang's case it's a character's adult autism diagnosis + death of a parent and in Emezi's case it's a very sudden and #problematic attraction coming out of absolutely nowhere. the stakes are very real, mostly centering around being true to yourself v disappointing your family, but the circumstances are still wild enough to make you say "god DAMN" and keep turning pages. hell, I'll even be extremely generous and include Mistakes Were Made (Meryl Wilsner) which is kind of a flop but does have the intriguing premise of "what if you were fucking a milf but her kid was YOUR BEST FRIEND and it was a secret?"

those are like the two sweet spots TO ME, and this book I just read (which was Thank You for Sharing by Rachel Runya Katz, I feel so bad putting it on blast but I know people are going to ask) really solidified it for me because TYFS didn't fall into either of those categories. I'm going to say something absolutely insane, which is that multiple times while I was reading it I found myself wishing that the book was fanfic, because on its own it just... didn't bring a lot to the table? it falls into the grounded category but doesn't really bring any of those heightened stakes to the story, it's just 330 pages of people in their late twenties complaining about dating and their office jobs. if I wanted that I could just ask my group chat! there's nothing particularly particularly gripping about watching made up strangers do it!

but then I was like oh hang on... if this was two fictional characters who are usually fighting with swords or throwing cars at each other or something this would be so gripping. it's literally the coffee shop AU principle, right? like seeing people in a very mundane setting having an office job and going to a bar is very shrimpteresting when they're normally defusing space bombs. I was explaining this to my housemates and I couldn't think of a straight couple to apply it to (the book is m/f) so I said Naruto and Sasuke, which is crazy because I've never seen a single episode of Naruto, but like. idk Naruto being a museum curator who has to work with Sasuke, a marketing specialist who he had beef with a summer camp 14 years ago, sounds kind of compelling, right? definitely more than just two people I don't know.

there's a post on here that I think about a lot that talks about why advertising a story with tropes doesn't work for original fiction as well as it does for fan fic because knowing the tropes is more helpful when you already have a sense of investment in the characters and their personalities, and I think this is related to that! I think sometimes you NEED to have a wider sense of scope for the characters for them to be interesting in a very mundane setting!

ANYWAY. much to consider, etc.

#bookblr

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harringtonswriting · 1 year

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would you maybe do ❝ you’re the only thing that matters anymore. i can’t eat, i can’t sleep— all the goddamn cliches from every stupid movie and song. you’re all i think about. i’m useless except when i’m yours. ❞ with Steve?? Seems very much like a Steve thing to say with a grand romantic gesture maybe 💕

ahhh i definitely agree, this is absolutely a steve thing to say and i hope the romantic gesture is grand enough!! 💕

...

Thunk.

You’re not quite sure what that sound is or where it’s coming from. You look up from your book, one you had been completely engrossed in for the last few hours, but when you don’t see anything moving or notice anything that’s fallen off your bed, you go back to it. You get about half a page of reading in before it comes again.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

You put your bookmark between the pages and close your book before you get up off your bed to search for the sound. It keeps coming, and you realize it’s coming from your window. With all the weird happenings in Hawkins you’re more than a bit wary, because you’ll be damned if you’re going to end up monster food for whatever weird creature of the week is showing up now, so you grab the biggest, heaviest book you own to protect yourself before walking towards your window. You’ve hit someone with it before, completely accidentally, and knew it would be an excellent way to bludgeon something that might attack you.

Except it’s not some weird monster, or a Russian soldier, or even a government goon. No, standing on your lawn at nearly ten o’clock at night, is none other than Steve Harrington. Who’s really the last person you’re expecting to see right now, and the reason you’re spending your Friday night at home with a book.

Okay, well, you can’t put all the blame on him; most of it you put on yourself and the stupid crush you’ve been harbouring on him since you’d made the stupidly wonderful decision to go to Scoops Ahoy last summer, before Starcourt Mall burned down. Unfortunately, as you’d gotten to know Steve and become friends, that stupid crush had only gotten bigger and harder to contain. And when he’d been working in the mall, scooping ice cream with Robin and taking time to chat with you when you stayed way past your break time, he hadn’t been having any luck getting dates—something you were happy about. You felt bad being happy, yes, but him striking out meant you could spend more time with him (and Robin, lovely Robin, who’d very quickly become a staple in your life along with Steve).

But since leaving Scoops Ahoy and starting work at Family Video, Steve’s game had apparently done a 180 and now? Dates all the time, with all the very pretty girls who you’d gone to school with. Never more than once with the same girl, but Steve’s got his groove back and it aches a little, seeing him so excited every time he has a date. But you’re his friend, of course you are, so you push down your own feelings to smile and laugh and encourage him, just the same as Robin and Dustin and the others do, though it’s been getting harder and harder to do lately.

So you’ve been slowly pulling away; you find yourself visiting Family Video far less frequently, usually when Steve isn’t there. You find reasons to skip on group movie nights or hang outs at the Harrington house, and start keeping more to yourself. It’s just until you get over this stupid crush, you tell yourself, and you even tell Robin one night, when you’re on the phone well past midnight and she manages to drag your reasoning for skipping on an outing to Indianapolis with her and Steve.

You’d thought Steve hadn’t noticed. But obviously he had, because here he is. So you put the big book down on your desk before you unlock your window and open it.

A rock goes whizzing by your face, barely missing your cheek, which you were not expecting. You yelp, and that catches Steve’s attention.

“Shit! Sorry! Did I get you?” he yells up at you and you lean out the window to shake your head where he can see you.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” you ask, resting your hands on the window sill so you can lean out a little farther. You can see him shuffling from foot to foot, a big silver boombox resting by his feet. One of his hands is constantly running through his hair, a nervous habit you know he has. His BMW is parked at the end of your driveway.

“I have something I gotta tell you,” he calls up, gesturing with the hand not in his hair. You feel your stomach twist in your abdomen; is he here to break off your friendship? Maybe he knows about your crush and he’s finally had enough. What other reason would he have to be here right now? He probably just finished a date with his latest girl—Heidi? Lauren? You couldn’t remember and honestly, you didn’t want to. Especially not if it was someone Steve was choosing over you. Not that you’d blame him, but still.

“Steve, really, you don’t have to say anything.” Because it’ll hurt more to hear you tell me it’s over before it even began, you want to say. But you don’t. You start to head back in through your window, but Steve shouts and stops you before you can get back in.

“Wait! I do have to say it, because I can’t stand that we haven’t been as close lately. It’s killing me and I can’t keep going like this.” You’re silent, watching him move closer to your house, grabbing the boombox to hold up to his chest. “You’re the only thing that matters anymore. I can’t eat, I can't sleep—all the goddamn cliches from every stupid movie and song. You’re all I think about. I'm useless except when I'm yours.”

Holy shit.

That is definitely not what you’re expecting him to say, and one hand comes up to cover your mouth because that was actually the sweetest thing you think you’ve ever heard him say to you.

That’s when he starts fiddling around with the buttons on the boombox until he gets it to do what he wants, and he cranks the volume dial all the way up before he holds it up over his head. It takes a second before you hear the opening bars of Careless Whisper start to play. He starts swaying back and forth, boombox held high, and god you feel yourself falling even harder because Steve is here, doing this for you, after telling you something that sounds like it would be straight out of one of the romance novels on your shelf.

You get to enjoy the sight in front of you for about a minute before you notice a light turn on and start shining from the house next door.

“Turn the goddamn music down!” You hear your neighbour, old man Mitchell, yell from the vicinity of his yard. It ruins the moment, just a bit, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as Steve nearly drops the boombox on his feet in his rush to turn it off.

“Sorry!” Steve yells back, and you laugh louder. Steve laughs too, the sound floating up to your window, and you can’t help the smile on your face.

You wave your hand at Steve, gesturing for him to come inside, and even from your window you can see the way his entire face blossoms into a wide grin as he lowers the boombox and makes his way towards your front door.

Steve wants to be yours. And you want to be his. And when you unlock the front door and pull Steve in for a big kiss, you press play on the boombox so the two of you can dance to George Michael’s unbearably cheesy song in your living room while you tell each other how you feel.

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