Especially not when he’s two hours deep into the most droning meeting you’d bribed him into attending as of late - knee bouncing, fingers tapping, head turned towards that firmly shut door like he just wanted to escape. Needed to.
Then again, even you found your attention waning. Finding whispering with your best friend much more interesting than whatever latest mission statistic Yaga had to present.
“M’doing just peachy, sweetheart.” Gojo smiles - but it looks stilted, pained. And even through his blindfold, you already knew his snowy brows were furrowed. “Who’s the one not listening to ol’ man Yaga now?”
You scoff, narrowing your eyes down at his figure beside you - draped over the cool mahogany table as if he owned the place. “Well- you better not be faking sick to get out of this meeting. Again.”
He only hums, “Don’t worry your pretty lil’ h-head about it, m’kay?”
With a final, tired rub at your temples, you’re turning back to Nanami to ask for all the world where Yaga was on his fifty-page report now-
And then, it hits you.
Suddenly.
Something smells sweet.
Like candy - particularly that sugary, strawberry-flavored kind you’ve had to tell Gojo off on more than one occasion for eating too many of. Tilting your head just a bit, you think you could also catch hints of honey and pine, such a strange, hypnotic combination.
“S-Satoru…” your words come out in a syrupy gush, feeling your head whirl.
“Hm?”
And despite yourself, you’re taking in deep, heavy inhales of the air surrounding you. Hungry. Mouth salivating as that heady, perfumed whiff clouds up all your senses. “Do you- hah- what is- do you smell-”
“Ngh- no?” he’s cutting you off with a barely-audible groan, one you probably wouldn’t have even caught if your abilities weren’t so sharpened right now. Gojo’s movements seem sluggish, languid as if he was moving through molasses when he raises up one hand to massage the back of his neck.
You can only watch as his head droops down onto the long table with a wince.
Strange. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have almost thought-
No, there was no time to be entertaining wild conspiracies. Because at this very moment you’re too caught up flitting through the dates of all your previous heats in your mind. Urgently.
Three weeks.
Your next heat wasn’t due for another three weeks. So, sure, you didn’t take your suppressants just yet but, that really didn’t matter, did it?
It wasn’t normal for jujutsu sorcerers to be anything other than a beta - and as an omega, you knew firsthand just how difficult it was to fight tooth and nail just to be able to sit at this table.
Historically, any other faction of society would rather be caught dead than outed, and have their second gender be taken advantage of by the very curses you were supposed to exorcize. Forced to face the stigma of alphas and omegas being too “unstable” or “vulnerable” to be trusted with missions.
This was the very thing you’d been trying to avoid ever since you argued your way into studying at Jujutsu Tech - losing control.
Especially now.
But god, you were burning up. It smelled so sexy.
And, taking a sweeping glance around the table of betas - at your fellow sorcerers, those grim elders, and your disheveled best friend - that left only you to explain the scent.
You were only thankful that their noses weren’t as powerful as yours. Clinging onto this as a saving grace, with a shaky gulp, you gently nudge Nanami on his side. “Hey- Ken?”
“Yes?” And maybe it was the heat - whatever this was - but Nanami’s deep baritone sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself leaning in traitorously closer to his heated body. His jaw ticks, “Is something wrong? You look…”
“Satoru’s also-”
“So what?”
Without warning, one of his hands comes to splay out across your forehead. Just a mere touch has him sucking in a sharp gasp, “You feel warm, I think you have a fever. You can’t continue the meeting like this.”
You shake your bleary head in protest.
“I won’t let you.” Nanami’s voice hardens with a tone of finality, and yet, you still find yourself trying to whirl around to look at Gojo. Maybe for help, maybe for a distraction to escape when your colleague speaks again - this time directed at Yaga. “Principal Yaga, it seems my dear friend here is sick.” Circling an arm around your shoulders to pull you up from your seat and onto weak legs. “If you’ll please excuse us, I will escort-”
Nanami stills - everything stills.
Everyone stills when his voice tapers off with a ragged grunt, and you feel his chest heave in unsteady breaths. So close now that you can mark the exact moment Nanami’s eyes widen, “Are you…”
Shit.
Shit shit shit-
“Wait.” Yaga’s voice bellows reproachfully. “Is this- That smell-” But even he can’t find the words, slumping back down into his seat.
Truly, the scent was so saturated now, so primal that even the most stubborn of unmated betas were sneaking peeks at you. You bite your lips raw at another glossy gush from your already-heated cunt. It was so embarrassing - your heats have never acted like this before, let alone come three weeks early.
Sure, perhaps that one time on your very first day at Jujutsu Tech itself - which was embarrassing by itself. And, yet, your mind had never been clearer than it was right now.
Eyes sliding over to a familiar, trembling mop of white hair - never been needier.
Fuck, what was your delirious self thinking-
As if drawn by an invisible string, Nanami’s inching impossibly into your hot proximity, hazel eyes falling half-lidded when he takes in a deep whiff. Grumbling, “My love-” Another. And another. Nose almost grazing your pulse now, “-you’re in-”
Slam!
“Out.”
It’s a threat.
That was the first thought that slammed into you, and then the voice continues, slow, snarling like a predator on the edge of ripping something to shreds. “I won’t repeat myself.”
Before you finally understand, it’s a command.
There’s one strong hand around your front, pinning you against a sculpted chest. Something about it has your pulse booming in your ears, fingers clawing at that pale wrist at your shoulder. Yet, he doesn’t even flinch.
Nanami, however, reluctantly detaches his hands from your body, and you finally have enough strength to look towards the origin of the words. Only for your glassy gaze to meet with a towering Gojo Satoru standing at his full height - when did he even get up?
Jaw clench, sharp canines bared, blindfold dangling haphazardly around his neck - ah, he looked like a man that crawled from hell and back simply to take you all along with him.
With you at lucky number one.
First in his line of sight. Close enough that you can finally smell him.
Oh.
Oh.
And you swear you saw his eyes tint with the faintest blue lightning when your own scent perks up. Boring into you for just a millisecond before narrowing his gaze down at a stupefied Nanami, cracking the kinks in his neck. “Unless ya wanna watch.” He bares the rest of the room with his flooring glare, “Unless all of you want to watch.”
It’s chaos.
They understood - perhaps long before even you did.
Chairs clatter, the desk trembles, and that safe haven of the door is swung open. That weezing council of elders are first to stumble over one another into the hallway, Yaga following shortly with a wordless sigh.
Until the only ones left are you and him - and Nanami.
Blond brows raising, his eyes flit frantically between you and a possessive Gojo. Sputtering out, each word jagged, and dry as if they’re being wrenched from his chest. “What is the meaning of this- We- I thought you were a- a beta.”
Everyone did, and Nanami was speaking what your mind couldn’t right now.
Gojo Satoru always presented himself as a beta - never affected by your heats, never disappearing once every few months for his ruts as you remember Suguru did. He always seemed so normal - perhaps the one thing about him that was. Unaffected by the stupid little trials and tribulations of alphas and omegas in sorcery.
But it was undeniable, he was an alpha.
And taking a deep inhale of his saccharine sweet perfume - so overpowering - he might just be the strongest you’ve ever encountered. How fitting.
“You thought.” Gojo’s voice was clipped, rumbling with a low growl that sent electrifying shivers down to your very cunt. And his tone just makes Nanami jolt. “And I can’t right now so I- fuck-”
Gojo’s body wracks with a violent shudder, making him hunch over - with you in tow. His hot breath puffs out in feverish pants near your ear, abs clenching as another velvety wave of pheromones emit from him.
You mewl when your body is jostled in his toned arms, nudging the very curve of your ass - tight uniform skirt hiking up just enough - so that you push in a slow drag against something rock-hard. Massive. Weeping out in a sticky damp spot that seeps into your skin.
“Hah-” you’re gasping, face swirling to nose up the crook of his neck - where the candied scent was most prominent. “Toru–”
There’s a gasp - and it’s not from you this time.
Both you and Gojo are snapping your dazed heads upwards at a frozen Nanami, his hand shooting to cover his nose. Eyes wild- “I-”
Before thinking better of it, it seems like Nanami opted to keep some part of his sanity as he abruptly turns on his heels without a second glance backwards. Marching robotically, the only moment he stops is once he’s at the doorway. One hand tugging on his suddenly too-tight pants, the other on the doorknob. Eyes still trained forwards when he calls out gruffly, “Don’t break the table, insurance doesn’t cover it.”
SLAM!
Finally alone.
Your vision swims - is the door even locked? Is this- God, you feel hot. So hot - too hot.
And Gojo’s burning up, arms wrapping around you so tight that you could feel the way his skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. He breathes out into your ear, “My pretty girl…”
“Oh sh-shit–” you’re whimpering, big fat tears welling up behind your eyes. And without wasting a second, as soon as it splatters hotly on your best friend’s skin, he licks a long, lazy stripe to lap at the hazy saltiness. Babbling away, “Feel so dizzy hngh- and you- you’re an alpha?”
Honestly, part of you still didn’t want to believe it.
But as soon as he husks out a gravelly moan, as soon as his tongue dips down a wet pathway to the scent gland on your neck - you already know you won’t be making it out of this alive. “Why did you hide it from me?”
“Mhm- fuck! m’sorry.” he grunts into your skin, slightly muffled. Nipping ever-so-slightly, “M’sorry m’sorry- had to- my sudden rut made my- hah, made my pretty omega go into heat, didn’t it?”
His soft palms glide down your trembly body, greedily kneading every dip and curve that comes his way. He’s lost. So, so lost.
Plastering his lips down every inch of skin he could reach, that sweet scent sticking to you like a sloppy second skin. And you can barely even think when you feel his swollen dick just twitch behind you, a fresh wave of swelteringly hot precum sloshing right through your silken skirt.
You whimper when you’re rutting messily back and forth, and he drags a thick thumb to pry your spit-glossed lips open. “Aww, poor baby. Tell me- fuck tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
And all you can really give him right now is a circular swivel of your hips, which evidently wasn’t enough.
Because Gojo’s furious tip only hardens, and he hisses with a slight tug up your skirt. Cold fingers dancing ravenously up the edge of your drenched panties, gliding the very rounded tip of his index slowly across your sopping slit.
“Tha’s not enough.” he snickers, and suddenly you’re hit with another wave of emanating pheromones. Enough to make you just slobber a glistening coating all down his long digits. “Use your ah- w-words like a big girl now. Because when I start…” His teeth find your earlobe, and his fingers find themselves planting a dripping wet slap! across your puffed-up clit. Unwavering. Unapologetic. “I won’t be able to stop.”
“Please, Toru.” That cute little nickname makes him jump, makes him throw his head back with a low moan. Brows scrunching together as if pained. “Don’t want you to stop-”
Maybe you were going to say more - maybe you would’ve called him that nickname and driven him even crazier.
But Gojo doesn’t wait to find out.
In one, fluid motion he’s picking up your body into the easiest princess carry you two would’ve laughed at if this was one of those romcoms you watched together. Just splaying you out on your back across the cool table, he situates himself in the perfect position between your legs.
Oh, how he loved this view. How he’s spent so many ruts just like this imagining this view.
“F-fuck- You have no idea how- how crazy it drove me.” rasping groans drag out from his throat, strained with every slow drag of his cock down the front of your now-see-through panties. “How wild-” You’re nearly screaming when his canines dig in to that soft spot underneath your ear. “-to pretend I didn’t know you smelled so hah- so fucking delicious.”
And then you feel him still - alert, ready.
Chest heaving, an almost chilling tone dipping into his words when he spits, “Except when you smell like him.”
Your jaw falls slack when the temperature in the room heats up another few heady degrees, and the sheer power of your two scents mixing together is almost maddening.
“He- he? Toru, what do you-” you’re gasping out in tiny huffs, while he busies himself with biting and licking down your exposed neck. Enough to leave you smeared all over with marks. “Who- Kento?”
“Oh, sayin’ another man’s name when you’re with- fuck- me?” Gojo’s bucking powerfully into you, his body was pinning you down. Scorching, now. “Such a naughty omega- I should kill him for how he touched you.”
Truly, his alpha was fucking clawing at him to trek out of this room right now and finish off the job - but, no, you were too hypnotic. And Gojo Satoru, the strongest, was no match for you.
The wet thwack of his fingers once more kisses in a rude smack against your clit, making you squeal. Ringing across your thundering ears, he swears at that broken, blissful noise from you. “Fuckin’ oh, would ya let him see you like this, too? Let him touch you like th-this?”
And Gojo looked so starved, velvety blindfold tickling your chin when he leans in close. Lips ghosting your own - but not quite. You’re suddenly brought back to the very first thought you had - that this is about to be a bloodbath.
“I wouldn’t–” you bite back in your honeyed tone, and you can feel your omega just purr in satisfaction. “N’ it’s not my fault that someone-”
Smack! Harder, sprinkled with tiny bolts of electricity.
“Correct.”
It’s breathed out into your mouth - a quick, hedonistic peck. Gojo just taunting your sanity before he’s pulling away with a gruff string of profanity, like it hurt him just as much as it did to you.
You feel your slick dribble down into a saturated puddle below you. And the mere sight of it makes Gojo just reel his hips deliriously forwards, grinding his massive bulge across your dripping cunt until you could see it soil a fountainy dark patch on his pants.
“F-fuckin’-” his eyes roll to the back of his head at how hot you were. How pouring wet. Wrangling your quivering legs painfully stretched open, “-woman of my dreams.”
With two, thick fingers hooked over the hem of your skirt, it’s being torn off in an easy pull. Falling somewhere in a pile of impractical tatters onto the meeting room floor, along with your shirt.
And as soon as it’s off, Gojo’s only growing more feral. More hungry.
He’s drooling from one corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t even notice at this point. Honestly, barely even realizing the burning pain when he falls to the floor on his knees. Clattering haphazardly, insatiably nosing up your jittery inner thighs.
“Oh sweetheart- oh my pretty girl. My pretty, pretty girl–” he’s breathing out, head lolling drunkenly against your legs. And Gojo gulps when he spreads your panties away with a wet glide of his thumb, just enough to see your messy hole winking up at him eagerly. All soaked and needy. “M’gonna have so much fun being yours.”
He kisses wetly through your panties - without warning, without even breathing. Just surging his pretty face into the heated crevice between your thighs, taste buds on his pinkish tongue grazing up the soaked fabric.
Like he was addicted.
“Oh- oh my god-” you’re mewling out, lower lip wobbly at every sultry swirl of Gojo’s tongue over your pussy lips, painting your messy hole in every mesh of slick and spit he could conjure up. “It feels too- hah–”
You were always so sensitive during your heats, every single one of your senses heightened to the max. So it made your mind all overwhelmingly melty inside to have his steaming hot mouth on your equally ravenous cunt. Hungry.
Yeah, he was addicted.
Dragging a few fingers in-between your glistening folds, scissoring them shamefully open to spit. Once. Twice.
Some of it splatters strayly onto the start of your thighs, which Gojo glady licks up all over again to stream out a thick wad back onto your silt. Until your cunt was drooling translucent dredges of everything he has to give, he smears his messy thumb in easy rotations around your clit. Filthy.
“So gorgeous- so good f’me.” Gojo titters, biting down teasingly on the very edge of your panties. And he can’t hide that fucked-out little groan when pulls it back, back, back to just snap! it meanly right on your cunt. “Fuck- you taste as s-sweet as you smell, mmm–”
You’re yelping when his long tongue draws a slow circle around the edge of that first ring of muscle, just barely pushing back against how your gummy walls are trying to hug him. To milk him for everything he has.
“S-such a tease-” you whine, fingers tangling into his cloudy white hair. Soft - the silken tresses smoothed over your palm, slotting between your digits when you pull his mouth roughly onto your pussy. “Jus’ want you on me- ngh!”
“Ohh ya can still t-talk easy, huh?” Gojo raises an amused brow from in-between your legs, that won’t be possible soon with how he’s going to have you. “Well then, don’t you dare beg me to go easy on you, girl.”
And he keeps the panties on - fuck, he keeps the panties on when mashing those ragged, rosy lips of his in a steamy make-out with your cunt. It’s as if he was breathing you in, so close that you could feel every clench of Gojo’s jaw, every grind of his chin into the very base of your pussy.
“Sh-shitttt-” he spits, stray wisps of white covering his eyesight. Dragging you on his tongue through pure instinct. “Shit wait- ah you’re so fuckin’ so-”
Unable to even finish his sentences with that usually-sharp tongue of his. No, that tongue right now was too occupied with the steady, repetitive drag along your snug channel. Bullying into your sodden sensitive spots, thrusting back and forth back and forth back and-
And his fingers, oh those infamous fingers were straying back onto the sensitive nub of your clit. Drawing tight, tempestuous circles that have you keening at the dual stimulation, thighs stuttering to an embarrassed close.
“Open.”
It’s just like before - and Gojo’s using that annoyingly baritone tone of his that hits you at your very core, that makes your omega snap open your legs for him.
Even you’re surprised at how pliant your body acts before your mind right now - and so is Gojo. though, his expression doesn’t show it, every bit of that feral animal that scared everyone out of this room not too long ago.
“That’s it- that’s it–” he can’t hold back, hands glued to the globes of your ass to pin you still against his mouth. “Ha- so fuckin’ different when ya listen to me, so fucking sweet.” Breathing in deeply, “Were ya giving off this scent so Nanami could do this, too?”
Thwack!
Another mocking slap against your clit - not enough to make you cry, but with just enough buzzing jujutsu to make your batting lashes teary - forces you to find your words.
And fuck, Gojo swears there’s no sweeter music than the sound of your voice - especially when you’re moaning like that.
Voice breaking into a whine, accompanied by a few raw clenches of your pussy around his furious tongue. “N-no fuck- don’t know-” your hips arch into the most perfect curve he’s ever seen. One that makes his mouth water, cock straining against his pants. “Toru- jus’ want you, wanna cum- wanna- want you so bad.”
Fuck - and who was he to not go along with each and every one of your pretty whims?
Pussydrunken already. He’d read about this - but he really had no clue how potent an omega in heat was, never having spent a rut with one. That little special occasion was always saved for you but, ah, that was a story for another time.
“M’gonna cum- hah- so- close-”
Right now, he couldn’t think of anything other than how gorgeous you would look when you cum. How delicious - your sweetened scent raising up by a few notches, taking over his sentences.
He feels his cock just throb at the mere thought.
Which is why Gojo’s pulling away with one final, sodden kiss on your pussy. You feel the curvaceous curl of his smirk against your cunt, and a deep, filthy inhale.
“Nah.” he smiles a glistening smile up at you - grin glossed all over with a sheen of your sweet, sweet juices. And the rest of his face was almost-obscured with a curtain of his white bangs, but you still think you could peek the glow of his inhuman eyes through them. Powerful. “Don’ think you’re c-cumming anywhere other than on my knot first, pretty girl.”
And he’s so tall that Gojo’s blocking out the dim meeting room lights when he stands up - slow, smug, making you spend each passing second in such anticipation.
Face expressionless - almost hypnotized - when he shrugs his shirt off. Lips parted into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded, heaving he slides his belt off almost lazily.
It clatters! to the ground, and he’s sliding down his drenchingly wet boxers with it - leaving a gleaming trail of precum down the front of his toned pelvis. Letting his achy cock finally spring free, he hisses when it hits the too-cool air.
And you do, too - though, for much different reasons.
Because Gojo’s so unfairly big - fitting, for an alpha of his stature. Blushed the prettiest pink at his rotund head that matched his cheeks right now, gradiating down into creamy tufts of white at his thick base. Showing the starting of his knot swelling. It made you wonder whether he tasted as sweet as he smelled. So hard it looked painful, curving into a long, solid shaft that glides a wet smear across his washboard abs. It makes your omega just preen, rabid to have him inside you right now now now-
“Heh, impatient lil’ thing, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” Gojo huffs out in a heady bout of laughter. “Can practically feel yer omega ngh- calling out to me, is this what you want?”
You claw ferally at the milky display of his back, branding him in your own way. “Yes- please-”
A sudden rip! makes you realize you still had your panties on - up until a few seconds ago, at least. Jostling him ever-so-slightly closer, you mewl when the rounded tip of his angry cock nudges against your pussy lips. Melding into a slight kiss that already makes him stream steaming hot ropes of precum.
And if you were in any better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed the way the light above flicker, fizzing with electricity just as much as you were right now.
“Heheh- oh y-you made me like this, ya realize?” he chuckles out - but his voice didn’t show even a hint of humor. It’s like he was out of control, out of rationality with each languid drag in-between your folds. Babbling, “You threw me into- fuck fuck fuck this is all- your-”
Honestly, Gojo’s so utterly shocked he managed to grit even half that sentence out.
Because every sloppy second has him grinding upwards in the tiniest of ruts into your sung cunt, tiny, mindless grinds that make a low ah! ah! ah! rip from his throat.
“Open that mouth f’me, sweetness-”
As soon as you do, you’re feeling a thick, glossy stream of saliva slosh onto your lolling tongue. Mouth wrenched shut until you swallow - and you do. Happily. Filthily.
That’s enough to make Gojo lose it.
And he’s plunging headfirst into your toasty insides, shoving back that tiny bit of resistance before your elastic walls are milking him so well. Greedily swallowing up every one of his generous inches, and it only seemed like more was to come.
“Oh shit- ohhh sh-shit-” His eyes are rolling to the very back of his head, mouth hanging open, that tiny trickle of drool splatters onto your skin.
“T-Toruu—” your cunt was addictive, and so were those moans of yours. Craning your neck upwards, “Kiss me, please.”
For a second, he’s leaning in - making it seem like he was about to smear that firmly placed gloss all over his lips onto yours. But Gojo only sneaks a peck at the corner of your mouth, then the other - and then one on the tip of your nose.
“I will I will-” he’s musing, giggles bursting from his lips. “Once we’ve mated, can’t get too greedy at once now? Can I?”
But oh how his actions spoke otherwise, because Gojo’s powerful hips absolutely refused to stop until he was well and fully buried into the hot depths of your cunt. Sheathing himself in all your soppingly wet walls, the sheer tightness was enough for him to throw his head back, heavy balls squeezing. In and out in and out.
“Ohhh fuck-” Two hands of his roughly attach themselves to your hips, pitching up your needy whines when he drools down your pussy even more thoroughly. “You sure do make it f-fuckin’ hard though-”
You whine when your ass hits against something bulging and hot, whirling those dazed eyes of yours down at the intrusion.
“Shit-” you’re gasping, eyes widening. And the sheer awe in your eyes is enough to make him grow, blood pumping to every thick inch of his cock until he was expanding even girthier, molding your pliant walls to his size. “That’s your knot- I-I-”
“I-I-I-” Gojo mocks, in a voice octaves higher than usual. Fucking the rest of that sentence with a harsh roll of his hips, knocking bruisingly at your cervix. “C’mon now ah- tell me- you can t-tell me anything.” Kissing softly at your ear lobe, zaps of jujutsu making you jump. “M’your best friend, right?”
How ironic.
All you can gift him in response is a few soft whimpers that only make him wilder.
“Fuck!” you’re keening when another one of his slams leave you gasping for air, feeling like he was clashing into your very womb. Glissading a deep, wet glide of his fat, curved tip across your spongy cervix, his breath hitches at the slight recoil. “I want it-”
Your words make him almost falter with his ruthless pace, and you take it upon yourself to just drag him down by his muscled shoulders. Until he was hunching over you, abs flexing against your front, “I want your hah- knot in m-”
And you can’t even finish the sentence - you don’t know if you want to.
Because just that syrupy jumble of words is enough to make Gojo Satoru snap.
To cut you off with a rough growl, teeth bared at you, in a split-second he has you limp legs thrown over his shoulder. Biceps flexing in such a mouth-watering way when he makes them lock at the ankle, bending down, down, down into the meanest little mating press your joints would allow.
The change in angle has you scrambling - has him scrambling to crash his leaky head into your swollen g-spot. Hitting that bulging bullseye with no regrets - over. And over. And over and over and-
“Oh, marry me sweetheart.” he’s panting into your mouth. His pulsing girth rummaging your insides so good, dragging every ridge and thumping vein on his shaft against your sweet spots. He was so big that you felt like your syrupy cunt had already forgotten what it felt like without him pounding into you. Suckling wetly at the corner of your lips, “Marry me marry me- oh, fuck- gonna give you m-my knot. Don’ think I could go on hah- l-living without ya, pretty.”
He was feral - eyes glowing a blazing blue, sparks of lightning bolting down his milky skin. And you swear with each speeding cadence of his, the lights flickered on and off.
Every slippery smack of his tight, cum-filled balls has you seeing stars, yearning for the additional burning stretch of being plugged by his knot.
You’re throwing your arms over his neck, reeling him in like he was your prey, though his hips were devouring you. “W-we’re not even dating and you want me t-to be your hngh-”
“-wife!” He kisses every inch of your face, down your neck, over that soft scent gland of yours - now so overstimulating his senses with your sweet scent that he’s almost forgotten what his own smelled like. Buzzes of electricity skimming down your skin with each touch. He’s groaning, “Be my wife- please- fuck, I need you to be my wife.” Planting an almost-french kiss on that one sweet spot. Once. twice. “M-my mate- sh-shit-”
And you already knew Gojo was close with the way his pretty eyes are almost fluttering shut, the way his hefty balls clamp. Twitching in desperation, his thickened base pumps in even deeper - harder. As if he was trying to rut every single inch into your clingy depths.
Every single inch.
“Mhm–” you moan, feeling the staggering stretch of his even hotter cock shape your walls. “I wanna- wanna be your-”
You don’t even bother finishing your sentence - and neither does Gojo let you.
Because it only takes a few more sloppy jackhammers before he’s finally sinking his taut knot into you. The stretch is so insane you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, being plugged so suddenly full.
And then you’re hurtling headfirst into your high - toes curling, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, your spine bowing so sluttily into his. And Gojo-
Oh, Gojo had his mouth sagging open the moment he felt his massive knot intrude against your silken sweet walls, stretching that snug channel around all of him. And he wishes he had the willpower to look down at the heavenly sight, he wishes he could do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your precious scent gland as he cums and cums and cums.
The lights burst, shards deflecting off the limitless he’d coated over the both of you.
Teeth breaking skin, metal tasting on his tongue, scents tangling together into one now.
You do your best to bite him back on his heady neck, breaking through Gojo’s milky skin to reveal a set of pretty pink indents.
Finally yours. Finally his.
“O-oh, pretty girl–” he hiccups, voice cracking. Hips not moving even the tiniest second of momentum while he stuffs your tight pussy full of his potent seed. “My wife- my mate.”
And Gojo almost bawls when the tight lock of his knot prevents him from plunging into you as deeply and thoroughly as he wanted to right now. Sobbing down big fat tears that splatter! against your lips while he kisses your mind dizzy.
You could feel the syrupy slosh of his cum inside you with each one of his dragged-out grinds, milking your orgasm for as long as possible. Unmoving. Unapologetic in how he was spitting out such voluminous loads of milky white seed that overfilled you.
“Shit- so much-” you’re whining, still clinging to him. And you don’t think he even hears you right now, mind blanking. “I feel so full, Toru-”
But you didn’t have to babble out those words for him to know, somehow, he just knew. Knew every single thing about you, but couldn’t dredge up the words to respond.
Too pussydrunken to do anything but bite you on your scent gland all over, he kisses a wet trail up to your lips, “Now you- really hafta m-marry me heh.”
Bang!
Gojo’s fist comes crashing down on the rickety table - it’s too much for him.
Those ringing squelches and the way you were sucking out every single drop of his cum makes his sensitive shaft twitch. Tears blimping up into his eyes again, more and more velvety ribbons ooze out. “My wife- my wife my wife my wife- my mate-”
It’s just about all he can say - like a mantra. Over and over against your lips, until the peaks of your pleasure turn into mere tingles, until Gojo’s own knot is softening down. Slightly.
Just enough that he can pull out-
“Toru, what-”
“Shhh, pretty girl-” He’s kissing your puffed-up clit with another spank from his trembly fingers, and then an actual kiss. Mouth slotting over the mess he’s made below. Grazing all over like a creamy gloss. Filthy. “Rut’s just started.”
His ravenous tongue drags out your overstimulated high, and you’re clinging onto a lock of his snowy hair for dear life.
“Please-” you beg, voice shot. You don’t even know what you were begging for, but god was Gojo Satoru happy to let himself be used. “Please please please, Toru-”
Oh, his fingers tighten on your thighs - imprinting neat patterns of crescents. Animalistic, in how Gojo just drags your twitchy body forwards.
His eyes were drooping shut, gaze crazed - frantic where he looked you right in the eyes from down below. Head craning to ram his stretchy tongue even deeper, quirking up deftly like he’s wanting to bruise his taste buds along your walls.
Slurping at and collecting the creamy mess on his tongue - only to spit it back into your sloppy hole. Messy.
Even with the dark, lightless room - with only those stray sparks of power to accompany you two - such loud squelches echo across his own ears. And just by the noise Gojo could tell how wet you were - as if you weren’t drooling over the lower half of his face, up to his cheekbones, already.
Sticking to your inner thighs in an obscene drip! drip! drip!
It’s so shameful and you love it.
And you love that you’re so cockdrunken that you aren’t even sure when you’re cumming - if you’re cumming. Whether those sudden crashes of pleasure were because of your nth orgasm tonight, or because of the way Gojo kisses you with another thwack!
Adrenaline and electricity coursing through your veins, ears thundering with your rapid pulse. Oh god, you never knew a heat could feel this good - this maddening.
You moan, and he’s eagerly lapping up every sweet bead of slick you have to offer, like a man that hasn’t had an ounce of water in weeks. Brows furrowed, jaw sagging open-
“Shit shit shit-” he’s rasping out, and the very slide of his fingers across your skin sends waves of powerful jujutsu - somehow bunching at your clit just right. “M’cumming- m- m’still cumming fuck- won’t- stop-”
Just as soon as your orgasm is ending, Gojo’s is just starting. Like he’d been holding back on this from the moment he’d started eating out your overspilling pussy - happily.
And exactly on time, too, because you barely even have the time to catch your breath before Gojo’s standing on his two unsteady feet. Just splitting you open on all of his red, raw inches - uncaring for your little mewls and those tears.
Because you were sucking him up madly.
Spearheading his swollen cock into you like he was trying to fuck another orgasm out of you. His strokes are long, harsh, showing off all the years of strength he built up boasting the title of the strongest.
And this hastily put-together mating press has his cum just overspilling out of you by now, dribbling down in wet globs that made you wonder how much more he could fill you up. It seeps in a white circle underneath your ass, slicking you back and forth along the wood at each harsh ram.
Again. And again. And again and again and-
“Made me this- hngh- this way, y’know?” he spits into your mouth - followed by a slurred string of swears. Every time his heftily smacking balls clench, you could feel the table creak under pressure. “Sat next to me with that fucking skirt- smelling so fucking- ngh- good- do you even know how delicious ya are?”
You can’t answer - because he’s back to squeezing in his staggering knot into you. Sparks exploding out from the corner of his scrunched-up eyes, forehead knocking into yours.
Gojo kisses you like he couldn’t get enough, letting you taste all the sin from just before.
“Three weeks away, huh?” That accusatory little inflection in his words isn’t lost on you, only growing stronger and stronger as his staccato grows sloppier. “Have your- hah- heat in three weeks and fuck- I could just- smell it on you-”
It’s incredible. Sliding your frenzied bodies across on another, stinging with skin-on-skin and how your gooey walls constricted around him.
“Showing off in that scent and that skirt-” His eyes are almost bulging out of his head now, hips stuttering like just the very thought of that pile of fabric at the corner of the room drove him mad. “-fuck that skirt- always fuckin’ hated it. Hated how Nanami loves hngh- it. Made me lose fucking control a-and you know what?”
One of his hands curls around your throat now, the other taking hold of your left - kissing your ring finger pointedly. “I’ll do it all over again if it means I’d get to have ya like this, my mate.”
And just then he’s coating your melty insides in a creamy sheen, that overworked divot right at the end of his dick was firmly pressed up against your g-spot. Plugging you with his knot, and you swear you could see a little inflation forming where he was filling you to your limits.
Cumming and cumming so hard it’s like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop until his body practically forced him.
Gojo’s biting down hard exactly over those deep indents on your scent glands when his gushing spurts of seed turn into almost-painful blanks.
Over and over, he’s cumming nothing.
“L-love you, Toru-” you’re babbling out, reeling him in to peck the corners of his smirking mouth.
Utterly fucked out of your mind enough that you don’t even register the loud boom! from somewhere in the distant grounds of Jujutsu Tech. Barely even care that the overpriced meeting table is now sagging on one side, just about in splinters.
“Aww, m-my c-cockdrunk baby–” he titters shakily into your glossed-pout. “Love you, too, always have always- will-” Patting the bulge on your stomach, before kissing you gently, “Ever since I th-threw ya into heat the ngh- first time ya met me.”
Oh.
And later, you’ll learn that that almost-deafening boom was the generator for Jujutsu Tech, mysteriously bursting after a sudden spike in atomic pressure in the surrounding area. You’ll find out that every piece of furniture in the surrounding buildings had moved about six inches in your direction, and that the now-ruined table was an irreplaceable heirloom.
But for now, all you register is soft.
Warm.
With a gasp you realize you’re in a bedroom - Gojo’s bedroom.
“Did- did you teleport-”
“Mhm-” he pants, and in the dim lighting you could spot his leering grin. Satisfied. Pussydrunken. And you could feel his knot swell up hotly, halfway through to its previous size.
You sputter, trying so desperately to find the words. Difficult, when Gojo still had you wrapped around his thick cock, all the way up to his fat, drenched base. Swiveling his cock in slow, sultry grinds for how much he couldn’t ram exactly how he wanted to right now. “Wh-why didn’t you do this before–?”
“Because-” he licks over his mating mark on you. “-wanted to show off what animals we were.” His grin grows wider, as does his tired cock. And that dangling blindfold around his neck ends up around your wrists, tying you up pliantly for him. “What animals we will be.”
---
Right now, all Nanami can think about is you you you- Yet,he doesn’t expect to see you for about the next week. Or, at least, that’s the hopeful side of him - knowing Gojo, and the state he’d left the meeting room in, he won’t see you again for a month.
Possibly not walking.
Perhaps, that’s for the best. Looking down at his swollen, throbbing cock - one fist wrapped around its thick base, the other around his shaky phone, he clicks on that familiar app.
Shit, his rut is near. Now, actually.
Nanami sighs, it’s hard pretending not to be animals.
A/N. Was soooo giggling writing about how the table was some heirloom.
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Oz is Laswell's best operator and the 141's guardian angel, the one they all have a thing for. When Laswell needs someone she trusts running point on a op that puts the whole 141 on the line, it's in Oz she trusts. On foreign soil, with the men she's spent months pining over, Oz now needs to deal with emotions - hers and theirs - that may end up putting lives in danger.
poly!141 x fem!reader
part one
part two
part three
part four
part five
part six
part seven
part eight
part nine
part ten
Synopsis. How long does it take for the demon king, Ryomen Sukuna, to figure out why you summoned him? Three hours. How long until you wonder whether you’ll make it out of the bed aIive? Well…
Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, demon king! true form! Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s second mouth, big tongues, oraI (fem rec.), he’s BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, tummy buIges, MARATHONS, creampíes, ínnapropríate use of POWERS, unprotected, DOUBLE the cúm, cúmplay, slight bréedíng, d slipping, HEADLOCKS, manhandIing, he calls you “master”, p talking, p sIapping, squírting, he goes FÉRAL, ríding his second tongue, spítting, overstím, making Sukuna whíne, breaking the bed, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 9.2k
A/N. RlP that puthy ayyyy!!
Lo and behold, late tonight found you boredly thumbing through pages upon yellow, moth-eaten pages of a dusty demonology textbook you’d acquired from the very back of your campus library.
And maybe it was sheer tedium, maybe it was your recent lack of…satisfying exploits - but the man in the illustration you were currently ogling at was smokin’ hot.
“Ryomen Sukuna: King of Demons.”
Your eyes greedily skim from his tall, towering figure, to those naturally chiseled abs. And was that a second mouth on his sculpted front?
Television whirring softly in the background, you thumb over the short, scrawled-out incantation right underneath his picture. According to what the book claimed, it was for those who wanted to summon the king. Oh…couldn’t hurt. Right?
Biting your lip, you let out a huff of disbelieving laughter before starting to incant it.
Stuttering, unsure.
And once you’re done, well, nothing happens.
You set aside the book with a sigh, turning to the tv that was now only playing repeated, flickering static. What else did you think would happen? Pressing frustratedly on the remote, as if-
“Summoned me, mama?”
Fuck.
The book you were just reading described Sukuna as big - but he was big.
And standing right in front of you.
Well over seven feet, muscular frame taking up every inch of your cozy living room. You can’t help but gape at everything from the cherry blossom-pink strands of slicked-back hair, to the thick rings tattooed ‘round his feet.
And he had two of everything - two sets of big, beefy arms just covered in veins that popped when he crossed his arms, two sets of dangerously crimson irises that roamed over your cutely trembling figure sprawled across the couch.
You had. Summoned. A demon.
And he really did have a second mouth gashed across his stomach.
“Or should I say…” Sukuna’s husky baritone sends stark shivers skittering across your skin, something he’s sure to not miss. He lets out a low whistle, “-master?”
“Wh-who are you?” You’re sputtering out stupidly, even though you already knew the answer to that question. It was right there, boldly titling a section in a textbook that you were two seconds away from throwing at the demon’s head right now.
“Heh- as if those puny human arms could do much damage to me.” He’s gruffing out, “I might even like it.”
It hits you in an instant then. Sukuna’s plump lips curl ever-so-smugly when your mouth drops at the realization that he’d just read your mind.
What the…fuck.
Your heart pulsates so loudly that you almost miss his next few words-
“Language, mama.” Sukuna’s feet thud! thud! thud! closer to you, every step reverberating an echoing shake of your apartment infrastructure. He kneels until he’s almost eye-level with you, and you can’t help but shiver at the heat radiating off in scorching waves from his hulking body. “Ryomen Sukuna, King of Demons.”
“W-well I’m-”
“I-I-I already know who ya are, silly brat.” He mocks, with a roll of his eyes. Rude, you huff. “The first dumb lil’ human to summon me in eons. And the first one so pretty, too- keh, don’t let that get into your head, just tell me what you summoned me here for.”
You’re shaking your head frantically, every ounce of will in your body trying not to think about just how you’d summoned the fucking demon king because you were…horny. “Can’t you just- I don’t know- leave? Go back?”
“Doesn’t work that way.” He seems to be enjoying your pain more n’ more by the second, both devilish mouths curving up into a smile that showed off his gleaming canines. Sharp.
“What if I take it back?” You try to reason, hands throwing exasperatedly in the air. “Un-summon you so you can go back to your…wherever you came from, and I don’t have to tell my landlord about changing the rent.”
You probably looked a mess right about now. But, at least in your defense, how were you supposed to know that spontaneously-borrowed demonology books might actually work?
And Ryomen Sukuna looks at you with all the patience of someone - a demon - that well and fully expects you to have known. “Stupid human. First you summon the king and then you want to send him back? I should curse you and fifty of your generations for this.”
Heaving out a sigh, he seats himself on that cottony carpet of yours. So monstrous, so strong that every piece of loose furniture is thrown two inches in the air once he does.
You yelp as you cling onto the tufted cushion of your dear sofa.
“I, Ryomen Sukuna, am contracted to stay in the human world until I accomplish the task my new…master has summoned me for.” He drawls out, pinkish brows quirking. “So spit it outta that pretty lil’ head now before I should hope you know how to take care of the demon king.”
You breathe, voice as fragile as if it was about to shatter into a zillion pieces against the slightest gust of air. “Take care…of a demon…king.”
“The demon king.”
Great, your brand-spankin’ new roommate was the king of demons.
“F-first things first.” You move to get up from your helpless position, trying not to let your knobbly knees trembly unsteadily as Sukuna watches you with interest.
Shit, even seated he was such a staggering size.
All rippling muscles and big, big…
Shaking your head to rid it of thoughts you knew he’d enjoy, you disappear into your laundry room to find the biggest oversized t-shirt you had stored away.
Striding back into your living room, you find him still sitting obediently for you. Unimpressed at your findings, yet still obedient. You’re presenting the piece of cloth back to him like a shield, “Wear a damn shirt.”
For your sake more than anything. Because it didn’t matter what baggy white pants Sukuna had on, having his upper half so shirtless and…attractive really wasn’t helping.
Fuck, if you thought the illustration was hot then it didn’t do enough justice for the real thing.
“Haaah? Stupid human customs. This get ya silly brain distracted or what?” Sukuna grumbles, though one of his four arms reaches out for the t-shirt. Close. And before you can snatch your fingers away, just one of his long blackened nails skims your sensory pads.
Too close.
Just one split-second touch and the king’s sultry eyes widen, nostrils flaring a fraction once he takes in a deeeep breath. You can’t force your eyes away from the tight, toned heavals of his cushy pecs fast enough, snapping your eager gaze back to his as if nothing ever happened.
Only to be met with a leer. Sleazy. “Though, maybe I don’t mind, mama.”
You find the rational part of your brain pricking with slight concern at the whiplash-like change in Sukuna’s tone. Though, most of it is overcome with utter relief as he wears the top.
Even though it doesn’t change much.
Despite being a t-shirt so big on you that it travelled all the way down to your knees, it barely even covers half of his cursed second mouth. Pulled so taut that you could map the exact circumference of his puffy, maroon nipples. And the slightest movement makes your tense living room ring out with a threatening riiiip–!
And on either side of Sukuna’s ridged obliques, he’d punctured gigantic holes for his two extra hands to flex through. Large and intimidating.
Raising a teasing brow, “This better, master?”
No, your mouth waters. And yet, somehow manages to shape out, “Y-yes.” Desperately whirling your pupils anywhere but at him, they finally find themselves landing upon the tick-tick-ticking clock on the far end of your wall. 12:01AM it showed. “And it’s late, I have early lectures tomorrow so…”
You didn’t. And you hastily pick up the demonology book from your coffee table to make sure that Sukuna couldn’t sense lies. Given the little you know about him already, you wouldn’t be surprised.
“So you can make yourself at home on the…” You’re wincing, realizing that your shabby couch was much too small for an above-average height human let alone a fucking demon.
“Hmmm?” Before you can do something stupid, like offer Sukuna your own bed - or better yet, you right along with the bed - he clicks! his thick fingers. And in a sudden puff of smoke, your humble sofa had transfigured - exactly the same, but bigger.
Big enough to fit him.
Shit. Your tummy lurches, he really was the real deal.
And even though you felt slightly disgruntled about the way this all-new furniture was jostling your poor television stand, you’re giving him a jerky nod in reply. Alarmed, you dart towards your own bedroom with a soft gasp of something like ‘goodnight!’
Hopefully when you woke up this would all be some strange fever dream.
.
.
.
You couldn’t sleep.
Though, that’s not for a lack of trying - no, according to your glaring phonescreen, the time was 2:53AM and you’d spent almost three hours tossing n’ turning fussily in your bed.
And it was all Ryomen Sukuna’s fault - well, indirectly.
Because you might not have heard even the faintest peep from him since you’d slammed your bedroom door shut, but you mind still raced a mile a minute over the fact that he was inevitably there.
And the fact that…you gulp, your thighs squeezing together through flimsy cotton shorts. You were still as horny as when you first summoned him.
…Fuck it.
Your patterned sleep shorts end up on a sad heap on the floor, padded digits gliding over just the swollen hood of your clit. “Sh-shiiit.”
By now your legs are splayed nice and close, heart curdling in your lower belly once you reach for that familiar second drawer on your bedside table. The one that’s hidden away. The one that opens up to show off a hot pink rose toy you kept for nights just like this.
Though, usually you didn’t have a demon sleeping over.
But you digress! Sukuna would be none-the-wiser; the demonology book had mentioned his superhuman olfaction, but it said nothing about super-hearing abilities.
They also did mention - several cautionary times - about the risks of summoning a demon, and how a summoner and demon shall live together as long as the task dictates. Sometimes even forever, with the contract sharing immortality.
So…
With this in mind, you’re biting down on the gummy insides of your cheek to push back the heavy pants that battle to depart. Eardrums perked in the direction of your door, your fingers scratch impatiently against the power button near the base and let the sinful bzzzzz knock on each of your four walls.
Not a sound from Sukuna. Good.
The sparkly tip of your cute lil’ toy kisses your clit and you moan, smearing it in a wet little glissade around n’ around.
It was sooo wet - your needy pussy. Even more so than usual, at this point your jittery thighs were just coated in a fresh lacquered layer of syrupy slick. Drenching down to your silky bedsheets and ringing out the most pornographic squelch after squelch.
“Fuh-fuuuck–” You’re whining, watery peripherals locked on the frigid vibrator tip teasing perfect eights near your sloppy hole.
The plump crowned tip of your toy was such a pretty shade of ruddy pink - one that reminded you so much of Sukuna. Shit…maybe this was a bad idea. Because all you could think about right now was whether he would-
No, no you can’t go there.
Spanking your throbbing clit with the firm base of it, silvery strands of slick dangle and squirt out from you repeatedly. Wanting and wanting, and no matter how much - you wanted more.
Probably.
“S-su…Kuna-” You spit a hot mass of webbed saliva that dollops down the tip of your rose toy, promptly aligning it in front of your dripping cunt. In front of where you wanted him- it the most before-
“Battery low…powering off.”
Heart plummeting to right between your legs, you take one look at the flashing battery indicator on your rose toy and sigh. “Fucking hell.”
“S’where I’m from.”
“Fuck!” You drop both your vibrator and your jaw to jerk your head towards the origin of that low, rasping, unfortunately familiar bass.
And there, hunched right in front of your now-open bedroom door, was Ryomen Sukuna. Two of his bulging arms homed right above the banister to your entrance, helping him lean down. Other two crossed over his bulky chest, grinning. “That’s the objective, brat.”
Perhaps you’re simply frozen, perhaps you like the way that Sukuna’s half-lidded eyes were rovering allll over your body without a shred of embarrassment.
“H-haven’t you heard of knocking?” You’re whimpering, sticky thighs closing in together with a stinging plap!
And Sukuna has the audacity to look almost disappointed when he can’t see that heavenly sight between your legs anymore. Stepping one foot - two - into the clouded headiness of your bedroom. The pressure in the air was so thick that the maneuver makes your skin prickle with frosty goosebumps.
He’s ignoring your previous question. Snickering, “I know you were thinkin’ about me, mama.” Closer. “I know you were moanin’ my name while you toyed with that pretty lil’ pussy. I could smell that you were in sweet ovulation ever since ya gave me this damn t-shirt.” Too close. His capped knees strike the edge of your mattress, making it groan underneath the weight - and you felt like doing much the same right about now. “I know why you summoned me here.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Two.
Three.
Before you open your cottony mouth- “W-want you, Sukuna- please.”
And one minute Sukuna’s hovering over the end of your bed, colossal figure casting a shadow over your body - the next, he has two meaty palms slapping down on your ankles. Kissing your lips, kissing your thighs.
He’s draaaagging you from your position near the very tippity-top of your pillows to him.
Down, down, down.
All the way until half of your ass dangles off the bedframe until he cups a ravenous handful of it. Tittering, Sukuna’s kneeling - the king is kneeling - on your bedroom floor with a dull thud! that makes your cunt flutter.
“Ohhh look at ‘er throbbing already.” He’s tittering, hazy gaze clinging to your adorably squirming body as if a moth to flame. The honed edges of his nails trace all along your thighs, raw carnal need. “That greedy f’me, human?”
“P-pleeeease—” You’re gasping, your own nails clawing red, red train tracks along his thoroughly veined forearms.
One spank of his doughy soft-tipped fingers exactly where your slobbery hole was leaking the most, and the sweltering hot wetness of it is almost dizzying. You watch with your mouth agape as Sukuna brings his treacly covered digits down to his stomach mouth, letting it sluuuurp all the dewy goodness of your sugarcoated slick. “That all you can say?”
Another clingy slap brings you out of your sweet reverie- you’re hiccuping out a scratchy, “N-nooo. I wan’ your mouth, Sukuna- ngh, I want-” You can’t stop your eyes from drifting away to his toned front, that mouth.
And Sukuna notices, of course, he does.
“Ohhh, ya really are a greedy lil’ thing, huh?” For a second, you swear his bloody lids widen in sharp surprise. Before Sukuna throws his head back with a cackle- “Of course, master, anythin’ ya want.”
Oh, that little nickname makes you arch.
Roughened, calloused hands crack your legs apart until the rounded curves of your knees hit your tits. Sloshing out a watery clump of spittle that puddles all over your overspilling slit, “But first, we gotta stretch this lady out reeeeal wide.”
You can’t even say a word, you can’t even register what he’s saying before Sukuna hunches over your damn bed and gives your pulsing pussy a good French kiss.
And just as monstrously big he was - his tongue was just the same.
Putting your rose toy to shame, he’s prying open your gluey pussylips with a single swipe of his filthy muscle. Simmering tastebuds splashing soggy smears all along every nook n’ cranny of your cunt, the underside of his tongue comes thudding down your heated clit with a harsh thwack!
“Nghhhh– fuck, Sukuna”
“Can’t hear ya, pretty mama.” He’s groaning into your slick-glossed folds, the carnal vibrations making your heaving chest rip with such raw squeals. “Louder. Make those hah- pretty noises louder f’me.”
The fat of his tongue was licking you up deliciously. Urging out bucketloads of honeyed slick, bucketloads of moans upon moans upon moans- “M-more- mmpf!”
“Not you, brat.” Sukuna bites out, though his strained throat trembles with amusement at the way your cute voice pitches. Thrashing as one upper hand treks up to muffle your unhinged mouth, he makes such a big show of letting your pouring sap sliiiiide down his open tongue. “Shut up n’ let me talk to her.”
Slurring slurps upon slurps that thunder in his ears like his favorite song, each n’ every one that he nods along to. Such a lecherous conversation.
“Mhm. Mhmmm, you’re heh- right.” His scorching hot breath tickles your pussy, and you can feel the way his handsome smirk curves into your aching flesh. “Yeah, she is fuckin’ filthy, huh? What a needy girl…”
Every gyrating motion of his head grinding the tip of his nose into your achy clit, pressing down like his favorite toy button. N’ dragging your tender nub up and down up and down up and down.
Clammy hips lurching the perfect curvature off of your springy mattress, your cute whines slip through his thickened fingers. “I-inside, want you- haaah-”
To which the only answer you get is Sukuna pressing down to shove your head into the softened pillows, snarling. Gritting his lustrous canines in a smile as his skin tingles with power-
Your perspiration-stuck forehead crinkles at the feeling of atoms and axioms stressing to a stop in the air all around you. Crackling with such power.
“What are you- oh.” And then you’re kissing - not just anyone, but the king of demons’ second mouth. Transferred all the way from where it was slashed across his stomach right up to the pulpy mountain of his palm. Gooey tongue plunging past your lips and into your own maw- “Ngh- fuck! Su-Kuna- Kunaaa–”
“Hear that? Callin’ the king ‘Kuna’.” Sukuna tuts, nibbling along the outer lips of your cunt and leaving bitemarks for days. “N’ for that, suck my tongue a lil’ bit.” Pressing even deeper, “C’moooon, can feel the way you’re drooling underneath me. Open that mouth, mama.”
And how could you not let your gasping lips droop even further pathetically open?
Because the taste of his slithering tongue was so addictive, like mulled wine and the sweetest of something that made an urge inside your fuzzy mind yearn. Your lips swirl around his probing muscle and suck-
“There we go. Theeeere we go. Shit, the dirtiest lil’ human I’ve e-encountered my whole life- heh, where the fuck have ya been my whole life?”
Punishing you, punishing your pussy with a barreling crowned tip of his digits smooching your flooded entrance.
Drawing delicate lil’ hearts all over your rubbery hole before he flicks at your gummy orifice and sinks in. All the way till his attractive, stocky knuckle was just winking up at him from underneath your saturated lips as if to say hello.
All glossy and soaked-through. Beast-like nails thankfully retracted, Sukuna’s fingers were just so thick that you could almost taste the fat circumference of him in your throat.
Just feel him swab every inch of your mushy insides without even trying, curling into every sweet ridge and geyser that makes your wailed whines sing. Louder and louder. The knotted mess in your belly tighter and tighter.
Oh-so-loud even through his unrelenting hold on you, you’re feeling your dizzy pupils circle and circle the whites of your eyes before sliding all the way back.
“Should banish ya for that.” He’s tugging you to and fro with both his broiling hot maw and his fingers toying with your pussy. Eyeing the way you spurt out something so thickly viscous that it streaks down his wrist; he lets the stray excess slather all over your sensitive clit and suckles. “But I liiiike you- like this pretty pussy. What a cutie she is.”
Pussydrunk. You had the big, bad king of curses pussydrunk.
You don’t know whether he’s talking about you or your cunt and right now you don’t even have enough brain power to wonder.
Not when Sukuna’s second tongue rolls straight inside your unhinged maw, the scratchy graze of his buds driving you wild. The slap of his tongue against the roof of your mouth fills your dazed eyes with such copious volumes of tears.
Ones that make him gluttonous. He is a demon, after all.
You almost feel as if you’re about to break into hysterics once his parched, cursed mouth rovers all over the caramel-salted beads of your tears. Lapping n’ lapping it up off of your teary face.
There’s a sudden plop! from below you, and you’re ogling once you feel your elastic walls stretch out even more under a second- third one of Sukuna’s fat fingers. Prying your syrupy pussyfolds aside with his teeth, he’s staring up into your heart eyes dead-on.
Scissoring them inside you, the knobbled fringes of his fingerpads whack back and forth into the targeted crevices of your sweetest spots. Probin’ into spots you didn’t know existed.
Holy shit, if his fingers were this big then how huge would his cocks be?
“Chehhh- don’ know where you’re droolin’ more from, here or there. Filthy human.”
Massive palm lumbering over your mouth to knock the gusts of wind off your lungs and make you bask in the wiped puddles of spit you’d made on his hand.
You’re bubbling out in even more tears and mewls. “I-I’m so close.” Stuttered cadence reaching such a feverish high point, the insides of your thighs burn as you meet his thoroughly plapping mouth. “Gonna- gonna…”
“Yeah? Better cum soon before I make ya pay for makin’ this mess on me, brat.” He’s gruffing ‘round your pulsating clit, rumbles making you see white. One spank to your dripping pussymound, the other to right on your g-spot. “Hop to it, human- cum f’me. Cum.”
You didn’t need to hear the pressurized pop! of your eardrums to know you were cumming, because Sukuna’s mouth smiles against your lips. Both of them.
Slow, sensual while he dragged you heedlessly through your high. No matter how much your stimulated body wriggled and wrenched though the white-hot bliss, you were no match for his complete strength.
Desperate.
He’s lapping up every. single. ounce of your gushing ribbons of slick like he was a man starved, and it was hitting the back of his throat in decorative gulps.
Sukuna’s snarling canines entrap your pulsing clit, tugging— “What a goood fuckin’ girl. Ya like that? Like cumming all over the king’s face?” It makes the tips of his ears burn flaming red to watch the way your toes curl, panting. “Sweet. Sooo fucking sweet.”
So much leaking out of you and yet, it still wasn’t enough.
Still pumping your goopy cunt with solid thrusts, he’s striking your weepy hole with a slab of saliva that only leaves you wetter. The razor-sharp hit of it making the darkness behind your closed lids burst with stars.
“P-please.” Your spit-slicked lips trembly non-stop, bleary eyes fighting to focus down at Sukuna. Where he was still addicted.
“Hmmm?”
The mounds of your heels rest on his bulky shoulders and start to weakly push, “Please- pleeeease, m’s-so sensitive, Kuna- hck!”
“Oh?” His deep tone comes out almost…delighted. Thick locks of blushed pink plastered all over Sukuna’s sweaty forehead, and he has to spy up at your adorably awe-struck expressions through his long lashes. “S’that sooooo?”
Mean. He was so mean - and the only thing meaner than Ryomen Sukuna himself was both of his tongues.
The one making out with your pussy steals another drawling drag over your quivering pussy, and the other shoves his lengthy muscle so far deep in your throat that he can almost taste your shocked whimpers.
“Fuh-fuuuuck–!”
“Told ya already- that’s the heh objective, silly brat.” Sukuna’s hissing out as he finally, finally pulls away from your pussy with a resounding, claggy mwah! A similar plop! sounding from your mouth when he sets you free from that, too.
The gulp of scorching air you’re drinking in almost chokes in your throat once you get a good look at Sukuna.
The entirety of his pointed chin, up to the curves of his high cheekbones was just covered in a thick topping of your slick. Glistening rivulets of it hitting your open thighs with pap! pap! pap! You could barely see his eyes through those mussed-up bangs of his - but you could tell they were wine-red and just as drunk, glassy, gone. Overworked tongue gliding slowly all across his glossy lower lip.
And was he- was Sukuna blushing?
“Oi, don’t think stupid shit.” His grumbling cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts, rouge-dusted skin flushing even darker.
Without another word, Sukuna darts his peripheries over at the splashed pools of your dumbstruck spit on his palm - his now-normal palm - and smirks. “Keh- so messy.” And before you can rebuke, before you can bluff, he spanks his drooly hand over your cunt and smears it down everywhere.
“Sh-shit, stop teasin’.” You huff and puff, unable to look away from the huge bulge that was tenting Sukuna’s billowy pants. He looked big…more than big, actually. And your thighs clench as you wonder whether twice of everything applied down there, too. “Wan’ you s-so badly, Kuna.”
“Huuuh? Don’t tell me that human brain o’ yours is cockdrunk already.” He scoffs, catching your gawking. “Impatient impatient. I haven’t even accomplished your first request, spoiled brat.”
“What first…”
Oh.
Oh.
The leaden ball in your throat grows about tenfold as Sukuna straightens up from his sexy slouch, showing off the way the lower half of his too-tight t-shirt was so drenched that it was see-through now.
Sopping even wetter by the second when his other maw slobbers with torrents of greedy drivel at the just the sight of you. Drooling through the fabric. “Guess we got a lil’...impatient.” He thumbs over the mess he’s created.
Just at sight of you.
Pulling- ripping that useless shirt off of him, Sukuna lets his fat, massive stomach tongue flop! out between your boneless legs. Fuck.
Striking you with the flat underside of his oversized tastebuds, proudly licking up the fresh batch of slippery slick that’d just begun pouring out from between your folds. Anticipating. Tense.
Filthy.
“Would ya look at that?” Sukuna croons with that mean tonality from above, two arms wrangling your legs pinned open. Wiiiide so that his cursed maw can fit between. Another hand roaming down to his bulge and massaging, “Was just complainin’ about being ‘s-s-sensitive’ but look at ya now.”
Before you can even blink, his colossal tongue constricts out until it’s about two, no- maybe even three feet long. And just as thick, too, he has to swirl n’ swirl all over your drenched inner thighs, the crevice of your pussy, your tight hole before being able to fit just the tip inside.
“Oh my- o-oh- ohhh fuck!” You’re shrilling with cracked vocals, feeling the slushy inches of his tongue crawl past your walls.
Shit. He felt even bigger than he looked - and that was saying something.
Sukuna’s stomach mouth was just so biiiiig that he wasn’t easing even halfway inside your awaiting cunt before the ridged texture of his tongue scratches your g-spot. He doesn’t even have to try until he’s stretching out your pulsing pussy in ways you’d never even imagined before.
Suddenly thankful for the way the king had trained your gummy walls to open up just earlier, you’re clawing at your best, soaked-through bedsheets. Fisting them. Tearing through.
“What happened to ya?” Sukuna croaks out in a thickened voice, leaning over to change up the angle so that his second tongue was pinpointing your tenderest orifices. Purposefully flicking over to peck your cervix before he slobbered allll over your magical spot. “Not so t-talkative now, huh?”
And it was true - just about the only thing you’re managing through the masses of drool overflowing your mouth were broken syllables of “Yes!”
Only to get strangled inside of your throat all over again when he stretches out his tongue and lets it slather your heated flesh with a clingy coating of salivated spit. Probing and probing oooout until he somehow skims over your throbbing clit.
You’re letting out the cutest moans of his name, so loud that you faintly think your neighbors will have a thing or two to say. “K-Kunaaa—” If you make it that far, that is. “P-please, can’t any nghhh- longer.”
“Again, mama?”
“Yes, yeeees- fuck!” You don’t know where you’re fountaining more from, thick drool seeping from both sets of your lips. Every slap! of Sukuna’s tongue makes you buck even more animalistically, “Please. Please, m’not gonna…”
You feel a clawed hand hang off of the curve of your lips, tugging on your glissading body so that you crawl backwards and hit Sukuna’s pink happy trail with a spank!
“So fuck back in hngh- t’me, human.” He groans, holding you stockstill until you can do nothing but drag and trawl the stinging mounds of your ass over his sculpted front. Guiding you to pound back, to rut– “Ride me. Ride me.”
Your mouth floods with fresh flints of heat and drivel, “Wh-what?”
“Fuckin’ ride my tongue like a good girl.”
Shivering, it’s all you can do to plunge your hips in such a messy back and forth. Core tensing, pussy sloshing slick, head bobbling like one of those stupid dolls. Long tongue reaching eeeeeverywhere, every time you guide him to your most favorite spots - his, too - he gives you a congratulatory swat of his perky tip.
Grunting, “Faster now. Faster.”
On shaky legs, your tempo is so fuckin’ messy that you feel your skin flare up until it’s as if you were melting. Repeatedly.
Melting all over Sukuna’s girthy tongue, where he was furiously pumping in and out of you. Your knees creak, letting him drill the curve of his plump budded muscle into your g-spot. In a deep kiss over n’ over n’ over–
And with a final sluuuurp, you’re falling apart on the king’s tongue all over again. Your high sprinting all down your bent spine as if it was the first time, no less intense.
No less sudden. No less leaving you yelping.
“Oh- oh my god-”
“Jus’ your cute ‘Kuna’ s’fine, brat.” Sukuna has the audacity to giggle - giggle - at the way your dazed eyes criss-cross apple sauce. And it was so cute how your pussy couldn’t stop throbbing and creaming around his mouth. “What a slutty pussy ya have.”
You tremble with the bolting aftershocks of your orgasm, the high making your brain a stupid fuzz of nothingness. “S-so sensitive-”
“Yeah yeah, she’s sensitive.” Forcing your mouth to fall into a perfect oh! when he promptly slaps your quivering pussymound, rudely. Bucking his hips in a little one-two to fuck you through your soaring high, the friction makes you keen-
“Kunaaa–”
“Chatty chatty.” He’s leaning over to crash his lips filthily against yours, suckling on the sugary beads of spittle that leaves you like his favorite dessert. Sharp fangs sinking into your wobbly lower lip, “Why don’tcha beg for a change, lil’ human?”
You’re sputtering, “Wh-what do you mean-”
“Beg.” He pummels two fat fingers between your mouth, slithering the bulbous crowns of his finger against the back of your thrashing tongue and pressing. Hard. “Beg for your king.”
So smug.
Even smugger when he leverages the hold inside your mouth to open you up widely agape and spit- One generous helping inside your maw, another generous helping from his stomach mouth inside your cunt.
“P-please.”
“What was that?”
“Please!” Tears streak hotly down your cheeks, and your pretty sounds make his cocks twitch. “Please…fuck me, Sukuna.”
He pulls his long fingers back with a smile, satisfied. Lips curling even wider at the saturated globules of spittle that dribble from the ends of your mouth n’ to the tips of his buried digits. “As you wish, master.”
Your heart raced so hard it almost hurt as he’s tracing a teasing few fingers over the thick hem of his pants. The usually-loose fabric was now so packed with all the endless inches of him that it took a few tight tugs for Sukuna’s leaking, globular tip to peek through.
Immediately a juicy trail of pre butters from his divot in a creamy topping. You spy just the spatter of his scratchy pubes tufting together - drenched, the same rose pink that his cockhead was blushing.
“S’pink.” You babble off mindlessly, a drunken smile gracing your face. “S’cute.”
“Cute.” Sukuna breathes out, crimson eyes wide. Crazed. And both sets of his mouths leer as if he couldn’t believe what the fuck just fell from your mouth. He’s seething, “Cute?”
With only one hand stuck to the edge of your waist like adhesive, he flips your entire body ‘round so it sprawls into the plush mattress and pins you down. Kneeing your spine so you squirm helplessly, pushing and pushing until you whine.
You hear a long teeeeear–! echo in your ears, and as you get your thoughts together you’re realizing that he’d torn his royal trousers off. Adding it in a pile of tatters beside your bed, right with your newly-ripped sleep shirt.
Sukuna’s rugged hips hump against the mounds of your ass like an animal, and oh…he really did have two sets of everything.
Exclaiming breathlessly, “S-Sukuna you can’t be hngh- serious.” Fuck, he was serious. Dead serious. And a singular look over your shoulder told you that so were his cocks.
Aching, swollen. You count about thirteen inches - each.
So thick that they were proudly fatter than even the girth of the tongue across his washboard abs. Stacked one on top of the other, his upper shaft was slightly longer, dripping wet with sappy globules of precum that formulated a little puddle underneath him.
At this point you’re openly gawking.
Because not only were they massive - they were textured. In the most prominent of puffy veins zig-zagging all down Sukuna’s pinkish-beige length. Darker at his heavy hilts, rubier right on his mushroom tips.
Your mouth waters hotly just aching to feel all of him - both of him - inside you…
Spank! The demon soothes over those five exact prints of his fingers on your ass, then moving over to your damp pussy to gift yet another swat. “Intimidated? Ya wanted ta fuck a demon, so you’re gonna fuck a demon. Tch- spoiled brat.”
Letting off a pitchy mewl, you sliiiide the crevices of your cunt all over his drenched cocks. “Give it t’me- fuck, I n-need it so baaad.”
“What was it ya said, lil’ human?” Sukuna grouses from above, you yelp when you’re feeling his second mouth lather down your thighs allll over. He rests two hands on your hips and ruts– “Oh yeah- cute.”
And before you know it, you feel like you’re being split apart.
You feel like you’re seeing heaven behind your shuttered lids and smooching Sukuna’s monstrous, rotund head with your lungs. So impossibly thick that he was swabbin’ around your insides just by settling himself inside your welcoming channel, greeting your sponged cervix with a nice snog.
“Oh yeah…cute.”
Strong, heavy hands are the only thing holding you up as your knees weaken, and a hand wraps gently around your throat from behind. Lurching you up, up, up to meet Sukuna’s mouth in a kiss.
Holding you up, with just one hand.
“S’this ‘cute’?” He seethes against your dangling-open mouth, ridged buds hot. His own words hot. “Yer real fuckin’ lucky m’going easy on my lady, mama.”
Going easy on you?
If this was going easy on you— then you didn’t know what to think about him going hard.
But it’s like the very idea was simmering right underneath Sukuna’s sweltering hot skin, just brimming right underneath every motion of his body. About to break through. About to make him snap when he plants a thorough pound. Then doubling to two. Four. Eight.
“Oh f-fuuuuck–” You’re sobbing out, useless head haphazardly tumbling until you’re peering face-to-face with the way he was battering rams inside of you. “So deep- s-so deeep-”
A hand of his flies up to muffle your ever-breaking moans, the sloshes of your drool sticking against his doughy flesh in strands.
“Kehhh- ya ever stop makin’ a hah- mess?” Sukuna tightens his vice-like grip on your throat, and as you raise your head he makes sure to dig his fangs into your pulse. Planting another thwack of his bruising palm, “Just sh-shut up n’ take it like a good girl, yeah?”
“Y-yes.”
“Say it. Say it f’me.”
You’re sobbing at this point, and a third of his hands spank your waterfall of a slit until you manage to look up at him. Spank after spank. “G-gonna take it all.” You’re sniffling, “Like a- like a good girl.”
It was impossible to utter anything more.
His sleek, bloated tip was an expert - rovering over each of your hidden nooks and crannies. Dappling out thick wads of pre that you felt swash around you with every slap of his hips. Rough.
And it was a damn good thing that the king had stretched you out so much, because he was long. Driving a spherical welt right where his cock whacked your sheened cervix, and he was still pushing. Still rutting until his slightly unruly hair tickled your tender lips. Deeper-
“Ohhh can ya f-feel that?” Sukuna stutters out in scratchy heavals of air. Slowing down his harsh cadence until it reaches a looow n’ slooow pace that leaves your voice pitching into equally lazy whines
There wasn’t anything that you couldn’t feel.
You could count every curvy bump of his veins massaging your deepest innards, the wet texture of his slick-glazed shaft tunnelling into you like a madman. Like he was addicted. And Sukuna’s chubby breeder balls sizzle against the backs of your thighs as he feels a hand up your stomach.
Feeling for that one spot near your cervix - your womb. That one spot he was fucking a rounded tummy bulge into you.
“Feel me heh- making you bulge with all of me, pretty mama?” He leans a few degrees backwards to thumb at the way your pussy was quivering, your stretchy hole flexing n’ molding all around him. “So big that this pretty pussy doesn’t know what ta do w’me.”
You’re trembling at the feeling of his secondary tongue sleazing over your dripping entrance, everywhere and anywhere.
Like he doesn’t know what to do. Where to ruin you.
He’s drawing a long line of translucent spit up until he reaches that gorgeous mound on your stomach. Circling. Worshipping right where he was fucking you stupid.
His tastebuds loop once around your leg and start jostling the angle so that your clit grazes with something thick. And hot. And…rock hard. “N’ I’ve only put one in.”
“O-only- fuck-” You’re voice wavers and cracks unstably when you cum once more. You can’t even control it - can’t do anything but cry out with every jolt of your body. Every spark. Every flash of heat when you’re lolling helplessly backwards.
Sucking his teeth in from the way your warm insides squeeze him on instinct, “Oh- you’re sensitive, mama.” You’re barely half-opening your eyes before he’s rummaging your insides everywhere.
Ballooned-up cock crownhead poking the bullseye of your g-spot, he licks up such greedy flicks in and out. The only blissful sensation you’re given other than the trawling grinds of his other vein-covered shaft smacking against your nub.
“Kuna- Kuuuuna—” You’re mumbling, feeling the slope of his cylindrical outline slide in feverishly. “Give me ‘nother- other–”
“Don’t you talk t’me outta ya pussy, brat.”
“M’serious.” Your voice shakes ridiculously much, thickened with lust and pure need for more, more, more. His ripped abs press deeper to listen to your adorable whimpers, “I want it. Want it s-so bad.”
“How cuuuute.” With a swift, thundering slap! you’re feeling the mushroomy tip-top of his matchingly achy cock pry between your gluey pussylips. “Better not blame me when ya end up ngh- pregnant, master.”
You think you might be crashing headfirst into your fourth orgasm - perhaps even your fifth when Sukuna lets his swollen, blushing tip nudge against your tight lil’ entrance. Fluttering, stretching when he pokes away your dewy folds and grinds in–
You’re flinching at the wet plap! plap! plap! of something wet hitting your back - only to realize with a turn that Sukuna was drooling. With saccharine lines of saliva overcoming each side of his maw.
Dilated pupils so dark that you can barely find a trace of red, Sukuna bores into your eyes. Hypnotized. “Take it.” He pants against your lips in great gales of summer heat. “Take it.”
If you thought that one of Sukuna’s massive lengths was enough to make you dizzy, then you weren’t ready for what two could do to you.
He’s barely flopping in his rigid, tight crownhead past your snug hole before your mouth bursts at the seams with ripples of sleek saliva.
“Fuck- fuuuuuck!” Your fleshy cervix almost stings with the way he was mazing all through inside. Pushing n’ pushing until the strawberry-pink divot right in the middle of his throbbing cock also kisses the goopy bottom of your pussy.
He was spreading you wiiiidely open.
So massive that you’re left squealing after each spanking jackhammer. Your gripping pussy nothing against the way his slicked mess was coating your mushy insides, swirlin’ around and around until his globed tip locates sweet spots you’d hidden away.
Jostling and sliiiding against each other, the viscous jetstreams of his pre glissade down each of his lengths. Throbbing inside you at the very same pattern of your heart going ba-dump–! Prodding away until you’re weak, the curled hairs decorating his bases rub your skin raw.
One of his fattened-up shafts shovels into your bruised n’ battered g-spot, while the other digs away at your fleshy cervix. Both at once. He’s poking and prodding and stretching.
Two in one.
In the blink of an eye, Sukuna grabs your neck with the curve of his big, bulging biceps. Dragging your poor head into a fucking headlock of all things.
One hand smearing open your cunt to slobber down each inch by fucking inch, the other crowning your sweat-dampened head to push you down. And two more were guiding your delicious hips. He was treating you so rough. Manhandling you.
He was so sculpted, all curves and firm muscles that massaged your backs soothingly. Sukuna’s sweat-laminated abs smush and scratch some primal itch inside of you.
“Mmmm, made ta take my cocks.” Sukuna rasps in your ear, all primal need. “This turns ya on? Doesn’t it? This-” The final of his rugged palms press into the base of your spine, arching you right. “-makes ya wanna fuh-fuck?”
You’re nodding and nodding, head lolling back into the cushion of his pecs. So lush.
And it’s all you can do that Sukuna finds not a single shred of shame in surging up his cursed tongue once more to thwack! your bulging pussy.
Tightening the headlock until his veins pop out and rub the tender skin of your neck. Until you’re wheezing for desperate air- “Hehhhh, even f-fuckin’ deeper now.” He palms over the bulge at your tummy that had now grown in size. Raising a dark pink brow, “Even bigger. Feel me all up inside?”
Flawlessly, Sukuna raises the tendril of his tongue to wrap around your adorably throbbing clit. Outlining slobbering little hearts that having you screaming-
“Yeah? Tell me. Tell me.” Stretching and stretching and stretching until a claw-ridden thump presses into the lecherous protruding bump. It’s so firm and heavy underneath his sultry touch. Dewdrops of his cream splattered everywhere, “Tell me all-” Pressing down hard. Harder still. Snarling, “-tha’s on your ngh- mind, silly brat.”
“K-Kuna–”
“Yeeeees?”
“M’gonna cum!”
Within just two blinks of your tear-heavy eyelashes, Sukuna’s got you flipped onto your back. Chin hitting your chest at the slight bouncy recoil, a shrilling whine of disappointment makes its way to your throat-
Right before Sukuna fucks it back in again with a fast burial of his weighty cocks, and then your upcoming orgasm.
You can’t even string together slews of proper syllables anymore, your tongue smacking uselessly inside your unfastened mouth. You cum looking allll up into Sukuna’s loving eyes.
“Tch, wan’ned to see your- ngh- your cute face when you cum.” He grabs your teary pussymound with one bulky palm and gyrates on your overstimulated clit. “Cum. Cum.”
And not only do you cum – you’re squirting.
Barely even realizing it before it registers in your mind that the sploshes of watery liquid coating your body wasn’t just tears n’ sweat, it was your sappy slick spraying out in bucketloads. Utter bucketloads.
The streaming spurts of it struggle to burst past your lips with the way that he’s ramming furiously into you. Aggressively, even. You’re whimpering with each fat webbed mess that manages to trickle down to the sheets below your ass.
“I-inside.” You’re muttering, inaudible. And yet, Sukuna hears - of course, he hears. The perches of his barrelling cockheads giving a dangerous sort of twitch!
And that’s all said before the king of demons glues together your sticky inner thighs with piling heaps of his cum. Gasping. He’s finishing in such a vulgar way that marks you as his from the inside and out.
First his upper length, and then his lower. Twin rivulets of stringy seed that hit the back of your pussy with a squelch–! so loud that it rings in your buzzing eardrums. The mass weight of it so much, so striking that you almost find yourself wincing.
Flooding every ounce of space inside you — and not only did his monstrous cocks bawl out way more than your average human, he had two of them. And oh, it was so hot…
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Sukuna growls, hips papping yours mindlessly. You swear you’re seeing the skin around his pelvis redden angrily at the impact. “Fuh-fuck I— fuuuck.”
He’s hunching over you, skin against boiling hot skin. Speckles of beaded sweat seem to trail down from Sukuna’s temples and fizzle in the mere air between your bodies.
Rough, rugged fingertips cling onto your hips, and two more of his hands throw your twitching legs pliably over Sukuna’s bulky shoulders. Locking them behind him, bending and bending and bending into a mean mating press.
He was just pumping you full, and that inflationary bump in your tummy swashes over with ribbons of cum after every thrust. Making both you and your overworked bedsprings whiiine.
“O-oh my god.” You gasp, tiny clumps of air your current salvation. Sukuna flicks his eyes drunkenly over to you and meets your mouth with his palm - manifesting his second mouth there in a sloppy, sloppy kiss. “Mmmm—”
“Wh-what did I ngh- s-say, pretty mama?” Sukuna’s smug tone was gone now. Hoarse. Cracking into so many octaves higher, even.
You’re only watching through partly-spellbound eyes as he languidly slithers a hand down to cup both rummaging shafts still plugged away inside you. Firm. His sweat-slicked brows furrow, boring down at you through strands of cerise. “Y-you can jus’ call me–” And then you feel it happen. You feel him harden. “-Kuna.”
Scrambling up onto your elbows, “Kunaaa—”
“Atta girl.”
He was getting impossibly harder.
Bigger.
And you swear the fat girth of his matching cocks were even thicker than usual. Plumping right inside of your slick-glued walls, your pussy sticks against him like gum when he throb-throb-throbs rock. fucking. hard.
Feral-like shafts twitch and flinch with even the tiniest of your primal clenches, prodding your cunt like magic, and you were quite sure that it was magic-
“Blood manipulation.” Sukuna grins, still catching his breath. And yet he was already moving, already rocking back n’ forth. “Ohhh- you didn’t th-think we were done, right?”
You whirl your eyes downwards to watch in some animalistic awe at the bump formulated on your tummy, oh-so-obvious now. And Sukuna’s ramming juts leave the bloated mound jiggling.
“Fuck- fuuuuck–” Mewling, as if a broken record. But it doesn’t matter how many times you’d repeated it, just your pretty voice makes it Sukuna’s favorite song. “M’s-so…”
Sensitive.
Your thighs writhe every time he dabs his full, rounded crownheads against your g-spot. Beating. Shuddering. With a sob, you’re fisting the splintered mahogany of your headboard and pulling yourself–
“Oi oi. Where’d ya think you’re ngh- runnin’ off to?” His lengthy stomach tongue creeps between the wetness of your thighs to circle one of your limbs and drag you dooooown into him. Grating your tender clit into his soaked hairs.
“D-dunno if it’ll all-” You nod haplessly towards the ever-gushing sploshes of seed and slick swamping out of you. “-fit.”
“Oh, I’ll make it f-fit, lil’ human- don’t you hah! worry.” Sukuna snickers, scraping your scalp with one hand to stop your cute wrangling. Pushing you down, spearing you. “You just sit baaack n’ take it.”
The room wrings with a sudden slap! Once. And then twice. And then so many repeated times that you couldn’t count how many harsh rolls of his hips it took for you to cream ‘round Sukuna’s cocks once more.
You can’t even feel it at this point, can’t even breathe.
But that familiar knot at the base of your stomach twists and suddenly your vision blanks with white-hot euphoria.
Mere trembles but intense. It’s so good that your toes curl, clawed nails dragging down his broad back.
“Cumming again?” He’s musing, curved veins stretching your fluttery core. It was so cute the way even biting down on your trembly lips can’t stop your moans.
And then you throw your head back with a sob of ‘K-Kuna’ and Sukuna thinks he’s going fucking insane. Veering right down the one-way street to madness as he swivels his hips hypnotically to draw a pretty milky heart at the base of your cervix.
Before topping his masterpiece with such aroused oodles of cum, and ohhhh- the demon’s finding himself tilting his head back attractively. Just addicted to watching the way your tight pussy overfills past the brim with all his sugarcoating seed.
More.
More more more.
Allll night long, and even when rays of dawn break through your fluttering curtains. Birds chirping outside, cards revving, and yet the only constant was that repeated spank! of skin on clammy skin.
He’s filling you up with second helpings, thirds, fourths- you’ve lost count at this point.
In every position possible, on every surface until the both of you felt more like animals than people. Though, well, maybe Sukuna’s demon-like nature was rubbing off on you. More n’ more every time he filled you.
So much so that the torrential currents of it - thick and taking up every inch of space inside your snug channel - are pushing Sukuna’s fat, veiny cocks out of your pussy. Out past your flashing folds.
He had you back on the bed now, the plush mattress so soaked-through that every ram makes it ring out a soggy schwf! Your legs dangle down somewhere near Sukuna’s slobbery mouth, where it was supposed to be some hazy mess of a mating press - his favorite.
And it’s slippery.
His pulsating lengths are having trouble pushing and sliiiiding off of your sheeny folds, lathering itself in more and more of an utter mess that the both of you were making.
But what Sukuna didn’t expect was for your throat to burn with a carnally furious whine. Ripping up and out of you once you’re reaching a shaky hand below - not even managing to close your hands around both his hilts - and squeezing them back inside with a waterlogged plop!
He’s fucking you like it was second nature, something dark and primal that made his entire body wrack with shivers. That made this famed king look at you with tender wonderment- before slamming a free hand down on your wooden bedframe.
So powerful that the poor furniture cracks! right down the middle where his hand lay - and that was not the only thing that broke.
No, Ryomen Sukuna was close in second place as he flaps his peripherals scrunched shut with a grunt. Those slapping rams increasing in pace and sound until he empties his breeder balls once more.
And it felt like the nth time he was gasping into your parted mouth while he cums.
Both dicks all soooo sensitive n’ red while they swirled around thin wires of squishy cum, opening up your tummy bulge so full that Sukuna can’t help but thumb over it fiercely.
“Please- please–” You’re begging now, and you think that the trembles of electricity bolting from between your legs meant that you, too, were orgasming. Not even properly. For the…what time was it now? “Inside. Inside, Kuna.”
“Inside.” He echoes, as if it was the only thing he could. “Inside. Gonna k-keep it ngh! all inside, pretty mama. Yeah, fuckfuckfuuuuck- gonna be mine.”
Oh, he was babbling now. He was actually whining.
Gingerly licking his kiss-bitten lips at the frothed ring of cum that painted his happy trail white. The schwf-schwf-schwaf of his tickling hairs polishing your skin with swift smears left you drooling.
And Sukuna was, too.
From both mouths that bubbled with glinting tracks of sweltering hot saliva. His wheezing gasps strained, “H-heir.” He’s cupping your treasured tummy - your womb. Overfilled.
Sukuna watches with bated breath as your filthy, cockdrunk brain told you to open your mouth wide and slurp up a few of his leaking wads.
“O-oh.” More cum sticks against your thighs like icy white frosting, spraying inside and outside and everywhere. “Fuuuuck- yer real interestin’, human.” His perspiration-sheened forehead drifts down to yours, curtained with unruly pink hair. “R-reeeal interesting…master.”
Ah, that makes you throb.
And it makes Sukuna’s shaft veins pulse rapidly as he cums - though, only in a few lecherous pearls of ivory sap. All adding onto the sploshing waves of seed inside you- before the rest of it is nothingness. Even though he feels it, even though he knows it.
You just made the king of demons cum dry. Even with his superhuman powers, ohhh your stamina was fit for a…queen. His queen.
Sukuna lumbers down a beefy arm, loving the way your eyes ogle his every muscular flex. His own glazed over with a teary film.
His thick n’ ready fingers wrap around his sloppy bases - not even minding the mess, he loved it. Both holding his sagging weights up and slipping himself through the filthy, saccharine puddles inside. Your heart races with anticipation once you feel the bzzzz of powerful energy in the murked atmosphere between your legs; his blood manipulation at work again.
Ohhhh fuck, you already knew his night was going to be a long one. Never-ending perhaps.
Your suspicions are confirmed when Sukuna’s dual tips twitch–
“S’never gonna b-be ngh- enough.” You’re batting your lashes sensually, words still hitching with the constant shocks of your orgasms upon orgasms. “M-maybe you should just ah! stay here w’me, Kunaa—”
And oh, he simply grins a wicked grin like you’ve never seen before. “A-anything. Anythinganything for my fuuuuck- master.”
Hi~ hope you are doing great and having a good time; sorry to bother you, but can I ask some poly 141 x reader who is a veterinarian, or dog caretaker or trainer or K9 unit; and has taken care of many dogs, pets, service dog, militar dog, and so on; and the team saw her a little more introverted, seeing her eyes a little watery but not that red, still working but seeing the tell signs of touch starved and then they learn or know that a dog she helped bring into the world when born, now she had to put to sleep for injuries or sickness, what would they do? Since not many know how painful it is even if not your partner or dog have to do this?
Sorry for the long part, and feel free to ignore if too bothersome, actually I'm a vet and Im all teary, but can't really cry or bent since my family is cold or strick and the rest say like 'its just a dog's, and I'm also touch starved, sorry for this; just that I need a little comfort
Best regards :)
Oh @boogeysmoth I am so so sorry! I can't imagine how hard the bad days must be. I'd be heartbroken and crying all the time. (We're a family that believes in fur babies, so I get it. I hope this helps a little bit.
Everyone on base knew who you were. Soft, sweet thing who was definitely more comfortable with dogs you trained than the people. It was an open secret on base that, despite what you were training the dogs to do, you recognized their value as therapy animals. Soldiers often found their way to your portion of the yard after a mission gone wrong or when a unit lost someone or when the memories just became too much. You were patient with the soldiers who came to you, teaching them commands so the dogs could continue their learning and yet support the troops in a completely different way. You never shied away from the soldiers in those encounters, perhaps recognizing something in their hollow look, a kindred spirit in need of tender care.
The 141 in particular was well acquainted with your work. They never said it, but in their eyes, you were theirs.
Simon knew how it felt to feel like you didn't belong. Gaz understood what it was like to care for so many others with your whole heart. Price recognized the weight of responsibility you carried; your job was to train and watch out for your dogs the same way he did for his men. Soap saw how you retreated into yourself, like Ghost had when they met, and vowed to pull you into a world that might not deserve your sunshine.
It was Ghost who noticed first. Back from a solo mission, he'd swung by the K9 grounds on his way to the barracks. You were on the field like usual, but as his steps slowly brought him to the edge of your space, he saw you hesitate to reward your current charge after a followed command. There was stiffness where once had been ease, distance when you were typically close.
In Price's office for debrief, he said, "Somethin's wrong." Price merely raised a brow, so he continued. "She's actin' like the dogs are a chore. She loves them damn things." He paused, thinking of his childhood, the indifference from some who was supposed to love him. "'S not right. She loves them, Price. And if she's actin' all cold, somethin' happened."
So Price started watching too. Saw what Ghost meant, how you didn't seem to want to touch the dogs any more than you needed to. When two rookies came up, looking to sit with the dogs, you turned them away. There was no hard look, no sharp retire, but it was one of the meanest things he'd seen on base.
Several days later Gaz was sent to the K9 unit with a pile of slightly worn blankets. Requisition order gone wrong and they were far too small for the barracks' beds. He walked into your office, smile in place, and said, "Got some presents for your pups, doll."
You looked up blankly at him and the blankets. "Oh. Er, that's nice, but the dogs don't need them." You turned back to the papers on your desk, but Gaz stayed rooted where he was. You were always looking for comfort items for the dogs to make them feel cared for. You asked for stuffed toys and never turned down blankets and soft bedding.
Two weeks after Ghost first saw something off, Soap came around the edge of the K9 kennels to find you weeping in the back of an empty cage. Kneeling in the back, face buried in your hands, quietly sobbing. He didn't hesitate to open the unlocked gate and join you on the cement floor.
You felt a strong arm wrap around your shoulders before pulling you into a warm, solid chest. Quiet shushing and a whispered, "Ah've got ye," accompanied by gentle rocking. He stayed with you as the tears tapered off, and only when they were done did he ask, "Ye want tae talk about it?"
Your inhale was fast, shakey. The tears were barely at bay when you started talking. "I had to put him down," you said, voice laced with grief. Soap couldn't remember the last time he'd heard someone's heart break, but he swore yours did as you spoke. He didn't say anything, but the arm around you squeezed a little tighter. "My little Rascal. I know he's in a better place, but I miss him." The tears started again, and you didn't even try to staunch them. *And I don't know if I can keep doing this," you say between sobs. "I know what happens to these dogs in the field. I'm giving them over to be slaughtered!"
He could hear the change in your breathing, the breaths coming faster and faster. "Ach, bon! De ye no see how much good ye do?" He positioned you so he could see your face. "Love, ye give hope! The dogs ye train help keep us safe, an' we do our best to keep 'em safe in return. We treat 'em like another member of a unit. We doan let 'em get slaughtered." Deep down you knew this, but hearing it now helps ease the gaping ache in your heart just a little.
Your breathing slowed slightly. But before you could reply, try to tell Soap he was wrong, he continued in a whisper. "An' here ye help us feel human again when ye let us be wi' the pups." Shame raced through you, remembering how you'd turned the privates away last week.
You hiccuped and said, "I don't think my heart can take it to keep caring." You were so quiet Soap could have pretended he didn't hear you, but you and the dogs deserved better.
"Oh, love. When it hurts too much take care, you come find us, yeah? We can help set ye tae rights."
You nodded. "Okay," you mumbled. "I think I can do that."
He stood and pulled you up, walking backwards out of the empty kennel. "And Ah ken the best way tae start," he stated, maneuvering you further down the hall to the full kennels. He put a light hand on your waist, deftly pulling the keyring off your belt. He found the cage with the youngest dogs and tried each key until one worked. When the lock clicked, the three puppies on the other side of the gate came running. Soap pulled you in behind him and closed the gate. He took a seat on the floor and patted the space next to him.
By the time you dropped to the ground, two puppies were already climbing on Soap's lap. He coaxed the last into your arms. You stayed with him, arms full of warm puppy, until you felt the cold grip around your heart melt.
an: This was a little tribute to my in-laws doggie of the same name and my cat menace, Mushu. They're over the rainbow bridge now. ❤️
tags: age gap, acquaintances to lovers, afab!reader but gn
cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, fingering, hand riding (hear me out), pussyjob, talking u thru it, praise, pet names (liebling, little one), size kink/difference, handjob, reassurance/encouragement kink, wet&messy, konig is uncut hehe, squirting
note: konig is in his 40s and reader is in their 20s!
;in which you live in the same building as a really hot, older, military man
9.5k
When you met König, you never expected the harmless interactions to ever evolve into anything substantial. He lived somewhere in the same apartment building as you did, though you didn’t know where exactly. Most times, you would find him in the elevator or cross paths with him in the lobby.
You knew he was in the military, most of the people living in the building were. It was close to the nearby base and had rent for a damn good price. The way he carried himself, back straight and body seemingly always at attention gave him away.
He was massive, standing much taller above you with broad shoulders and thick thighs. A lot of the time he was wearing a hood over his face, mostly when he was coming or going from work – which was seemingly all the time.
On the few occasions that you caught him without the hood, you could tell it was him solely by his build. There was no one else in the building who looked anything like that.
He was handsome, in a rugged, tired kind of way. He was a lot older than you were expecting him to be – probably in his early to mid forties, you guessed. He had salt and pepper hair, fine lines etched onto his face, and stern eyes from (no doubt) many years in the military.
You had never properly spoken to him before. Hell, you didn’t even know his name. You greeted him when you saw him and smiled in passing when you made eye contact. Occasionally, he would respond in an accented voice that you longed to ask about.
The event that changed everything was a fun little night out you had with your friends. You had maybe had a bit too much to drink before finally conceding at your friends’ behest to call yourself an Uber.
By the time you reach your apartment building, you’re still very buzzed and starting to feel a little nauseous. You stumble to the elevator and impatiently slam your thumb on the button over and over again, losing count as you do.
“It’s not going to come any faster,” an accented voice drones next to you, nearly making you jump out of your skin.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you wheeze, hand over your racing heart.
“You should be more aware of your surroundings then,” he says, “Especially when you are intoxicated.”
You huff through your nose, growing annoyed at the prospect of being lectured. The elevator grants mercy and dings before slowly opening. There's a rowdy group of men inside who quickly walk out of the elevator, seedy eyes immediately finding their way to you, scanning your body up and down as they pass by.
You feel that nauseous pit in your stomach twist as you finally step onto the elevator. Nothing to ruin your jovial mood from a nice evening more than a group of leering men. Living in an apartment building filled with soldiers, it wasn’t unusual to have them stare at you – didn’t mean you liked it.
You cross your arms over your chest as König steps on, the elevator creaking and groaning under his immense weight.
“What floor?” he asks softly, glancing at you over his shoulder as he stands in front of the button panel.
“3,” you mumble, leaning against the back wall. You watch him punch in the 3 but not anything else, making you raise a brow, “You live on 3 too?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t say another word. You narrow your eyes at his back, if he feels you looking, he doesn’t give it away. The elevator is plunged into silence aside from the quiet sound of the shaft moving up and up until it dings and the doors slide open.
He steps out first, standing in the threshold to keep the door from closing as you push yourself off the wall. Your head swims for a second and you stumble past him, keenly aware of his eyes on you.
You wander down the hallway, glancing over your shoulder to see him slowly stalking behind you. His arms hand limply by his sides, his fists clenched into fists but he remains a respectable distance.
“Why are you following me?” you ask, unable to hide the nervousness in your tone, “You said you don’t live on this floor.”
“Young recruits are tools,” he supplies simply, “I am making sure you make it to your door without any problems.”
That causes you to hum and for a little flutter in your stomach to manifest. You brush it off and pause at your door, pulling your keys out so unlock it. You push it open and step in, letting it hit your back to keep it from closing as you turn to look at your companion.
“Thank you…um…” you clear your throat and look at him expectantly.
“König,” he supplies simply, arms tucked behind his back, making him look even wider.
“König…” you repeat, feeling the words on your tongue, “Interesting name. Where are you from?”
“Austria,” he replies almost mechanically, “I will be going now.”
You don’t get to say another word before he’s stalking away and down the hallway, heavy footfalls practically rumbling the ground beneath him. You slowly close your door and lean against it, hand placed over your racing heart – when did that start up?
You blame it on your inexperience when it comes to men. You’d had a couple boyfriends, pretty standard for someone in their 20s. Your problem was none of them were ever good enough. The over-zealous types who wanted their dicks sucked as gratitude for paying for dinner. Then would turn around and either give you the most lackluster head of your life, barely any foreplay before trying to shove his dick into an unprepared hole.
You had never given them the chance, once they showed they were only interested in their own pleasure and would more than likely not even think about touching your clit or angling for your g-spot, you stopped them and kicked them out. More often than not, you woke up to a break-up text because of course you did.
So that was how you were still a virgin and more or less, at this point, given up on dating. You’d been single now for the better part of 6 months and had no intentions of giving any men your own age a shot at it.
But…you hadn’t considered an older man. Like König.
At that thought, you pushed yourself off the door and kicked your shoes off, intent on taking a shower to hopefully wash these drunken thoughts out of your head. So he’d been nice and walked you to your door, no questions asked, so what? Didn’t make him any different from men your age.
As you made it to the bathroom, you felt your stomach finally churn for the final time and found your head buried in the toilet. You cursed yourself for not listening to your friends, who apparently knew your own limits better than you did.
The next time you see König is just a few days later. You walk into the apartment’s gym on the ground floor, and there he is – sitting lifting weights. You pause when you see him, feeling that traitorous flutter in your chest you were sure you puked out that night you had learned his name.
You watch the way his biceps flex, bulging so large you’re sure not even two of your hands could wrap around the girth of it. There were some scars littering his skin, most of them white and raised from age but a few that still had that new tissue pink color. You also noticed some fading tattoos encircling his forearms. Fuck, he was hot.
You hung your head and scampered over to the treadmill, intent on getting your cardio up.
As you run, you notice a group waltz in, laughing and shoving each other. You glance over at them, rolling your eyes when some of them make eye contact and nudge their buddies. They lean in close and whisper to each other with shit eating grins on their faces and you find frustration building up so you try to ignore them.
“Quiet,” you hear an accented voice snap, full of authority, “You are disturbing everyone.”
The rowdy young men quiet down immediately and clear their throats, “S-Sorry, Colonel,” one of them utters.
‘Colonel? Is that high ranking?’ you find yourself wondering, making a mental note to look that up later.
Either way, König manages to make the gym peaceful once again and you finish your workout with no other hitches.
You grab your towel and dab at the sweat on your face and neck as you swiftly make your way out of the gym, completely unaware of the shadow following closely behind.
You slow to a stop at the elevator, punching the button to call it as you sip on your water bottle, mindlessly going over what else you need to do with your day. The shadow behind you remains stagnant, still and silent as it lurks behind your unsuspecting form as the elevator opens and you step on.
He follows, hefty weight causing the elevator to groan as usual. That gets your attention and you jump, placing a delicate hand over your racing heart just like you had before, eyes wide in shock at his appearance.
“You’re doing it on purpose now!” you whine at him and he has to fight back a smile at it.
“I told you that you needed to pay more attention to your surroundings,” he replies smoothly, pressing the 3 button for you before pressing 5 for himself.
“How is a guy as big as you able to be so quiet?” you ask softly, making note of the floor he lives on.
“Years of training,” he gives a quick response that you hum at. There is a beat of silence before he finds himself speaking again, “You never gave me your name.”
He sees the way you look at him in surprise and he almost wishes he could rip the words from the air as soon as he says them. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea that he actually wants to get to know you.
But you smile softly and give him your name with a kind nod of your head before the elevator grants him mercy and dings at the arrival on your floor.
“See you around, König,” you say as you step off.
He doesn’t respond.
Once back in the safety of your apartment, you find yourself going through the entire interaction in your head over and over again. Your heart races as you think back on him.
It's as you’re making dinner for yourself that you finally have the coherent thought of revelation that you may have a crush on König.
The revelation is almost enough to have you groaning out of frustration into the quiet sanctity of your apartment but you manage to refrain. But you can’t deny you don’t quite know what to do about it now. You had sworn off of men but…that was men your own age. König was…older than you, surely at least 15 years your senior, possibly more. You figure it couldn’t hurt to ask him out for some coffee one of these days.
Except, the next time you see König is almost 2 weeks later. You don’t see hide nor hair of him at all. It definitely puts a damper on your confidence and you almost think your crush was just a fleeting little thing and for that you’re grateful for.
Until the elevator opens one day and there he is. He’s wearing his hood but his eyes look even more exhausted than usual – beyond the general tiredness that comes with age. You carefully step on, joining him in the downward descent to the lobby. It’s just the two of you and feel that fluttering in your chest start up again and your hands begin to sweat. You scour your brain for something to say — anything to start up a conversation after so long of not seeing him.
“Haven’t seen you around,” you mutter softly. He hums softly in acknowledgement but doesn’t supply much of a response beyond that, “Where have you been?” you try again.
“Deployed,” he finally responds after several seconds of silence.
You can’t find any way to respond or keep the conversation going but it’s sure that he has no intentions of doing so anyway. Still, it surprised you that he had been deployed, you hadn’t considered that. It made sense now that you thought about it.
The elevator opened and you both stepped out. He walked much faster than you, beelining out of the apartment and you briefly considered letting him go but another part of you wanted to stop him and ask him out.
You cursed to yourself and jogged forward, calling his name. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of you calling for him. He looks down at you over his nose, a burning gaze that makes your nervousness spike. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good time after all.
“What?” he snaps, clearly impatient.
“Oh um…” you clear your throat and slow to a stop, “N-Nevermind…”
He huffs through his nose and resumes storming out of the apartment. You find yourself sighing deeply, following his lead. When you get outside, he’s nowhere to be seen and you once again find yourself wondering how a man of his size is so good at not being seen.
A few nights later, the weekend rolls around and you find yourself standing in that damned elevator with him once again. He’s maskless and it gives you pause before stepping on.
It’s silent for a few seconds before he says, “I am sorry for the other day.”
You look up at him with wide eyes, “Um…what do you mean?”
“I was not polite towards you,” he answers, casting a soft gaze towards you that makes your heart flutter, “I took my bad mood out on you and I should not have. So…I am sorry.”
“Oh…” you clear your throat and give him a smile, “it’s alright, König. I shouldn’t have bothered you with something silly.”
He frowns at you, “Something silly?”
“It’s nothing,” you assure him, smiling kindly at him.
He wants to ask you what you mean but the elevator door opens and you step out, making him realize that you reached your floor. You wave your goodbye to him as the doors close and he lets his head fall back with a sigh once he’s alone.
Yet another bad day weighed heavily on his shoulders when you came waltzing into the elevator, bright eyed and happy. His fists were clenched behind his back and he did his best to avoid looking at you, hoping you would take the hint and not speak to him like you usually did. It hadn’t been but a day since he had apologized to you for making an ass of himself in the lobby and he didn’t want to do the same thing so soon after.
But then you say something that sends it all crumbling down.
“Hey…” you start, fidgeting your fingers in front of you, “Would you like to get coffee sometime? Maybe lunch?”
You ask it so sweetly and softly. For some reason, that grates on his nerves even more than anything.
“What?” he snaps, cold and sharp in a way that makes you visibly freeze.
You look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, “Um…w-well, I just…it’s…I would like to…”
Your nervous babbling only serves to piss him off even more as his glare narrows down on you, making you shrink in on yourself where you stand. Suddenly, the elevator feels much smaller than it had ever before – even with him filling most of the space as usual.
“You want to go out with me?” he spits, his accent growing stronger with every venomous word that he can’t seem to stop from spilling from his lips, “I am twice your age, what the hell makes you think I would want to date you?”
You swallow thickly around the lump forming in your throat and bite back the tears that threaten to form. He hears you sniffle and promptly snaps his head to look at you. Under the ugly, yellow light of the elevator he can see the tears trickling down your cheeks and he suddenly wants to slap himself into the next decade.
He wants to open his mouth so badly and apologize for being so cruel to you. He knows he could have told you no in a much softer way rather than making your feelings seem like something revolting or stupid. But the elevator doors open and you’re slipping out before he even has a chance. He decides not to chase after you.
It’s for the best, he assures himself.
It only takes a few days before he’s vehemently regretting not stopping you then and there.
It happens on a Friday night, the elevators are closing just as a hand jumps between them, sending them opening again. You step on, giggling in a way that tells him you’re just a little inebriated. You freeze when you see him standing there, maskless and cold gaze as he watches you tug a young man into the elevator behind you – clearly a little drunk himself.
You pointedly stand in front of König, keeping your back to him to show that you’re not even willing to look at him. König feels his heart clench painfully in his chest before it’s replaced by a wash of anger as he watches the young man paw at you. He slips his hand down your back to grope at your ass, making you giggle breathlessly before you’re batting his hands away with a little bat of your lashes.
König wishes he had an excuse to step off the elevator at the same time as you – anything to prolong his time with you. He’s never felt the desire to cockblock someone more in his whole entire life.
But he doesn’t move. He just watches you step off without a single glance in his direction before you’re vanishing around the corner and the elevator doors close silently, leaving König alone with his thoughts.
You couldn’t believe you brought this guy to your apartment. You especially couldn’t believe you were letting him strip you of your clothes and paw at your body like some kind of mindless dog. You had sworn to yourself that you were not going to fall into this trap again – a 20-something year old guy buying you a drink, complimenting you a little, teasing and groping you in the club until you caved and brought him home. It wasn’t your first go around – and it always ended the same way.
But you were drunk and you needed to get your mind off that stupid, giant Austrian military man that lived in your building. And wouldn’t you know it, he was on the elevator as soon as you got in. It was almost enough to sober you up, your wounded pride and feelings still so prevalent even after a few days of nursing the hurt.
You could only hope that this would relieve you of your hurt feelings.
Unfortunately, you quickly realized that this was a mistake.
As soon as he started groping you, spreading your legs and trying to stuff his cock inside you without so much as a single finger of prep – you knew this wasn’t going to happen.
You tried to lead him, thinking maybe he was a little too tipsy to actually think about it.
“How about a little prep, hm?” you ask softly.
He pauses what he’s doing and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, “Oh…you’re one of those…”
He says it in disgust and you feel yourself bristle in annoyance, “One of what?”
“You want me to eat you out, right?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “That shit’s gross, c’mon just let me stick it in, already.”
It was that moment that you felt any minute desire you had to have sex evaporate.
You don’t even bother walking the guy out, leaving him to limp to the elevator in shame with a hard cock and blue balls.
It takes you a few days to find it in yourself to crawl out of your apartment. The only reason you actually do leave is because you’re in need of food – your little supply of ramen has depleted and you have to bite the bullet.
After your little shopping trip at the nearby convenience store, you find yourself waiting for the elevator when a dark shadow looms over you. You feel a pit of dread in your stomach as you smell the musky, sweet scent of his cologne. But you don’t dare acknowledge his presence.
He doesn’t give you long to ignore him, however, before he’s talking to you.
“How was your little date?” he asks, voice dripping in a tone of condescension that immediately puts you on edge.
“What’s it to you?” you hiss, still not daring to look at him.
He scoffs, “You went and found yourself a little toy to play with awfully fast. Seems your interest in me wore off quickly, no?”
That gets you to finally turn around, meeting his cold, indifferent gaze with your hot, teary one. You miss the look of surprise that flashes over his face.
“What is your problem?” you snap, “You rejected me, what the hell do you care what I do? And for your information, the date was shit. He was shit, like I should have expected any difference. God, I really am a fucking idiot,” you find yourself rambling, a lamenting spiel that you can’t seem to stop no matter how badly you want to, “Just like every prick before him, he was selfish and revolting. I thought I could finally get fucking laid and just call it a day but no, my stupid standards are too high and I find myself asking out the hot older guy in my building only for him to find me revolting!”
By the time you’re done ranting, the doors open and you storm out of the elevator, angrily gripping your bag of groceries. König is frozen where he stands, watching you leave as the doors slowly close – almost begging him to put his hand between them and stop them so he can chase after you.
But he doesn’t.
It’s creeping up on midnight when there’s a knock on your apartment door. You’re curled up on the couch, watching some random show that you weren’t really invested in but couldn’t be bothered to change.
The knock makes you jump, startled, but get up nonetheless. A quick peek in the peephole tells you exactly who it is before you even open it.
You briefly consider not opening it period but find yourself opening it before you actually settle on a decision.
König stands in front of you, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand, looking comically small. The sight is almost enough to get you to crack a smile. Almost.
But the residual hurt from the last few interactions you’ve had with him is enough to keep you stoic. You raise a brow and you practically see his confidence falter. A pang of guilt goes through you at the sight and you step aside, waving him in with a quiet huff.
He closes the door behind him softly, kicking his boots off as he watches you wander into the living room. You take a seat on your couch, covering yourself with your throw blanket once again as you watch him wander in, gazing around at your decor before finally settling on you.
“Um…” He clears his throat nervously and places the flowers on your coffee table, “I think that we should talk…”
“Should we?” you quip back.
He sighs, broad shoulders heaving with the movement before he takes a seat beside you, taking up a hefty amount of space on your small couch.
“I want to apologize,” he says softly, folding his hands in his lap, “When you asked me out…I-I should not have spoken to you like that.”
You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “If that’s all this is about, König, then you can go. I-I don’t really want to hear a half-assed apology about the way you rejected me. You’re not interested, let’s just move on from it. I’ll get over it.”
He shakes his head quickly and curses under his breath, a word you don’t understand – German, your brain supplies, helpfully.
“You are wrong,” he says, “I do not want you to get over it because I am interested.”
The gets you to perk up, eyes wide, “What do you mean? You said you–”
“I know what I said,” he mutters, “I am…twice your age…”
“So you mentioned before…” you reply.
“I do not think…you should be with someone old like me,” he continues softly, “You should be with someone your own age. That is what I thought. It is not that I don’t find you attractive; I think you’re sweet and lovely. But it's just…our age difference…”
“König,” you stop him from continuing, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”
“I understand that but…” he trails off, casting a sideways glance across the room, away from you.
“I’ve tried dating men my own age, König,” you say, “It always ends the same – I send them home blue balled.”
He huffs out a laugh through his nose and finally sets his gaze back on you, “Why do you do that?”
“I don’t plan to…” you begin, running your hand along the soft fabric of your blanket, “it’s just that...I bring them home and then we start getting into it and it fucking sucks!”
“Sucks..?” The question is soft and drawn out.
“He wants to fuck my throat and won’t even give me his fingers before trying to stick his dick in,” you spit, angrily glaring at the tv as you remember all your shit encounters, “I’ve never even let one of them go all the way.”
“You’re a virgin…?” he asks.
You shrug your shoulders, “I guess. I mean I’ve had shitty oral and stuff but…”
“I see…” he trails off, shifting in his seat, hands still folded in his lap, “Well, I would like to take you out for a date after all.”
You find a smile spreading across your face faster than you can stop it. You jump to your knees and throw your arms around his shoulders with a squeal of happiness, “Really? You mean it?”
He laughs breathlessly, a husky little sound that makes your heart race, “Does this weekend work for you?”
You eagerly nod your head and lean in. You catch the way his eyes widen briefly before your lips meet. You think he’s going to pull away from you but instead he cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss.
You feel a shiver go through you at the feeling of his big, strong hand holding you there in the kiss. You couldn’t keep yourself from getting wet even if you wanted to.
With your hands pressed against his firm chest, you toss one leg over his lap and find yourself seated on top of him. He breaks the kiss at that, hands migrating to your waist where he mindlessly strokes his thumb over the skin exposed by the way your shirt rode up.
You lean down and kiss him again and he groans against your mouth. You grind down against him in response to the throb that makes your pussy clench around nothing. You whimper into the kiss when he suddenly stops your movements with a firm grip.
“We shouldn’t, liebling,” he whispers softly.
“Why not?” you whine, settling in his lips. You briefly realize that you can feel something hard beneath you and that makes you start dripping in your panties, “Don’t you want to?”
“I-I do…” he assures, “I just…want to properly court you…”
He couldn’t get any sweeter if he tried. Still, you quip back with a teasing little smile, “Wow, you are a lot older than me, huh?”
You feel giddy when the sweet look in his eyes melts away into something darker. One hand clasps the back of your head before he pulls you in for a much rougher kiss. You keen as you feel the way he exudes experience – the kiss like nothing you have ever experienced before.
The way he moves his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth to taste your mouth, it’s not gross or too much the way it sometimes is with men who don’t know what they’re doing.you find yourself moaning into the kiss before you even realize it.
He pulls away at that, a heady look in his pretty, blue eyes. You find yourself briefly lamenting the loss of his mouth but that thought disappears quickly when he moves to begin peppering kisses along the length of your neck, making sure to nip at your jaw and kiss your shoulder.
He tugs the hem of your t-shirt down just a bit so he can have access to your collar bones, nipping and kissing there as well. Your head falls back as you surrender yourself to him completely.
“Oh,” he coos softly, lips brushing against your ear, “You are just so sweet for me, aren’t you, little one?”
You practically whimper at his words as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips barely grazing your skin. You squirm in his lap as his touch tickles you on his way up to your breasts, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his roughened palms.
You sigh into the quiet room, arching your back to press deeper into his hands. His thumbs graze over your nipples and you moan.
Sure, you’ve had guys grope your tits before but it had never felt like this. The mindless squishing and squeezing was replaced with soft cupping and gentle brushes over your nipples until they hardened followed by pinches and flicks that left you absolutely dripping in your panties.
He takes mercy on you quickly, one hand sliding down your body to slide under your sweatpants and beneath your panties. Your hands grip his shoulders, blunt nails biting into them when one broad finger slides down, the sticky noise of your folds separating enough to send heat rushing to your cheeks.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers in a tone so soft you almost think it wasn’t meant for you, but then he tacks on, “Do you hear it?”
“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, embarrassment flooding through you at the sticky, clicking noises that come along with his prodding, “N-Never been this wet before, König…”
That causes him to pause, blue eyes gazing at you through his eyelashes, “Is that so..?” You desperately nod your head, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his hand, but he doesn’t move again and you whine, “Has anyone ever made you cum on their fingers?”
“J-Just me,” you answer breathlessly without a second thought.
He hums thoughtfully and after a second, he begins moving his hand again. This time he introduces more fingers, spreading your folds apart with his index and ring so he can pet your hardened clit with his middle. The feeling makes tremors run through your body and he huffs a laugh, “I guess I will show you what it feels like then, yeah?”
He doesn’t give you a moment to think let alone answer before his middle finger is sliding into you. The one digit alone is enough to stretch you, given how massive he is in whole. He crooks his finger forward and a moan rips from your chest when he hits that gooey little spot inside you.
“A-Another, please, König!” you beg shamelessly.
“Shh,” he hushes, shaking his head, “Let me work you open on this and then you can have more.”
You practically wail in despair, letting your forehead drop forward onto his shoulder. You suddenly wish you had rid yourself of your clothes so you could see the way his hand worked against you. All you could see now was the faint movement under your pants but the mental image of that thick finger inside you, slick with your juices was enough to have you clenching desperately around him.
After a moment, he adds a second finger and you feel like you’re in heaven. The stretch is phenomenal and his palm bumps against your clit every time he sinks them into the last knuckle.
However, before he can set a rhythm to really start getting you off, he stops. You angrily lean back and glare at him – the sight has his lips quirking up.
“Ride my fingers,” he orders you, leaving no room for arguing.
You can tell he’s not going to give you anything unless you take it for yourself so you sit up higher on your knees so you can have the clearance to move. Your hands remain on his shoulders, clinging to him for stability as you clumsily begin to rock your hips. The only time you’ve ever done these movements is when you tried humping your pillow once after seeing it in some porn. It didn’t really do much for you so you never tried again.
König can tell your movements are clumsy and it makes his cock throb against his thigh. He helps you along, crooking his fingers just right to grind the tips against that sweet little spot inside you. It makes you moan beautifully and he files the noise away.
His other hand comes up to grip your hip, steadying you as you continue to hump his fingers. You’re growing more and more frustrated as you quickly realize that you’re not able to make it feel as good as he had earlier. The tearful little gaze you give him has him breaking, using the hand on your hip guiding you into more seamless movements.
“Like this, liebling,” he directs softly, “Grind down like that, mhm, give that little clit some love, yeah?”
You become increasingly breathless as you work yourself higher and higher under his expert guidance. He can feel your juices dripping down his wrist, the snug hold around his fingers growing even tighter with every little rut of your hips.
“You’re so precious,” he coos, feeling the way you clench up at the sound of his voice. Your body is so honest, telling him what you like without you having to say anything, “You’re going to cum, I can feel it. Be good and give it to me, yeah?”
You surge forward and desperately kiss him, one hand reaching down and gripping his wrist. It takes only a few more, desperate thrusts of your hips for you to topple over that edge. Your body trembles on his lap and you cry out in pleasure.
He moans alongside you, watching with rapt attention as you cum all over his fingers just like he told you to.
You slump against him as you come down and he pulls his hands out of your pants. He presses a kiss against your temple in silent praise, hands rubbing your back to soothe you through the aftershocks that run through your body.
You lean back and meet his gaze, an opportunity he takes to slip his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth. At that, you surge forward and kiss him, running your hands down his body to pull at the button of his jeans. He grunts into your mouth, brows furrowing at the release of pressure when you tug the zipper down.
You’re absolutely speechless when you finally pull his cock free. He watches in poorly concealed pride as you gawk at the length in your hand. You give him a slow and tedious tug, watching the foreskin roll over his head, forcing a bead of precum from the tip.
“You’re so…big,” you whisper breathlessly.
“I know,” he grunts, unable to hide the ebbs of pleasure you give him as you play with his cock.
“Cocky,” you tease softly, continuing with your soft touches.
“N-Not cocky,” he whispers, licking his suddenly dry hips, “Just aware of my size.”
You drop your eyes back down to his cock, hot and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don't even touch each other when wrapped around him. Precum drips from the tip, leaking down the side to meet your palm and aid in the movements.
He leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. It wasn’t often that he got to indulge in someone else’s hand. Your palm was so soft, much softer than his own, and delicate in your inexperience.
He reaches down with one his hands, wrapping around yours to make you squeeze tighter, “Just like that, little one, that’s how I like it.”
You could have drooled as he said it. His hand dwarfed yours and the sight made you clench around nothing, more slick leaking into your already ruined panties.
“Let me see you, liebling,” he whispers breathlessly, fingers hooking on the hem of your top.
You release his cock to lift your arms, letting him tug the fabric over your head. His hands are on your tits immediately, mouthing at your nipples without wasting a second.
“So pretty,” he coos with his mouth full, rolling his tongue over your nipple before nipping the bud with his lips.
He switches to the other one, wrapping his mouth around it, sucking sharply before pulling back, taking your nipple with him before releasing it with a pop. You watch with lidded eyes as he drools all over your tits. His cock flexes and twitches against your thigh as he plays with your tits.
Suddenly, with a firm grip on your waist, your whole world flips and you find yourself on your back on the couch with König on top of you. You lick your lips at the sight of his big, broad form hovering above you, caging you in as he leans down to kiss you again.
You sigh contentedly into his mouth, threading your fingers through his short, messy hair, using the grip to pin him against you. He lets you kiss him to your heart's content, only pulling back when you need air – a string of spit connecting your lips that breaks when he leans back between your thighs.
His fingers took into the band of your pants, tugging them down, taking your panties with them until you’re completely bared before him. He’s still completely clothed aside from his cock that rests against his abdomen, occasionally twitching as his eyes rake over your nude body.
“Tell me, liebling,” he says, strong hands running up the length of your thighs, “Has anyone ever eaten you out?”
You clumsily nod your head.
“Was it good?” he asks, biting back a smile when you shake your head.
“Guys always think it’s gross or something…” you whisper softly.
He hums softly, “That is because you’ve been messing with stupid little boys.”
“You gonna eat me out, König?” you ask him, biting your lip in a poorly concealed excited grin.
“Would you like me to?” as he asks, he slowly spreads your legs open. The position causes your folds to spread apart, opening you up for his greedy eyes.
You feel your breathing speed up as he kisses down your body, starting with your lips and ending right above your clit. You feel the little bud twitch in anticipation as he tongues the skin above it, giving you a sneak peek on what is so close to it.
“Tell me,” he says.
You whine, “Y-Yes, I want you to eat me out, König!”
He chuckles softly but doesn’t bother teasing you anymore. He meets your gaze and moves his tongue lower finally, sliding the flat of the muscle of your clit. You gasp and toss your head back into the cushions, eyes rolling back as he noisily slurps at your cunt.
“O-Oh god!” you wail, hiccuping out noises of pleasure that you can’t seem to quiet.
König is in heaven. It’s not every day that he gets the opportunity to eat such a pretty, inexperienced little cunt. Your reactions to everything are so strong and loud. Your pussy is loud too, squelching in the room, making an intoxicating melody with your moans. He moans against you, swallowing down everything your messy little pussy drools out for him.
“Th-That feels so good, König!” you sob, kicking your feet mindlessly against his back as he captures your clit in his mouth, suckling at the bud, “You’re so good, so good, oh god!”
Never in a million years did you think being eaten out could feel this good. The mindlessly, halfhearted licks and kisses you had received in the past did nothing to prepare you for what it felt like to really have a man’s tongue on you.
He pulls away suddenly, giving you a moment to actually breathe, “You taste so sweet, liebling.”
“König…” you whimper, looking up at him with lidded eyes, “Please, please don’t stop.”
You tug at his hair and attempt to pull his mouth back down on your pussy. You don’t care how pathetic and desperate it is, he has given you a taste of pleasure you’d never experienced before.
He has the audacity to laugh at you, brushing your hands away so he can sit up straight again. He scoots closer and you realize then that he is not planning to continue and it practically draws a sob out of you.
“We can focus on that another time, liebling,” he promises, making you clench around nothing, more slick dribbling out for him to see, “You are so messy, you know that? Never had someone make such a mess all over me before. You must really enjoy being eaten out, huh?”
You feel your face burn hot with shame at his words, shyly hiding your face away. He smiles softly at that, “Nothing to be ashamed of, liebling…I love it, I do.”
“Really?” you quiver out the question and he nods his head.
“Yes, little one,” he coos, “I’m glad that I can make it feel good for you.”
You practically feel hearts in your eyes as he says that. You don’t think you’ve ever had a man tell you that he actually cared and enjoyed your pleasure. That was the final nail in the coffin for you – you really should have been going after older men all this time.
He disrupts your thoughts by suddenly stripping his shirt off. Your mouth goes completely dry at the sight of his bared skin – firm muscle, hair speckled all over his torso, and numerous scars from untold stories of his time in the military. You take note of the faded tattoos that become visible on his pecs and biceps; you’d always noticed the tattoos on his arms but you’d never really been given the opportunity to look.
“You’re so handsome,” you whisper.
He pauses while ridding himself of his jeans and smiles, “Thank you, little one.”
When he’s completely bare to you, you slowly rake your eyes down the entirety of his newly exposed body. His cock hangs heavy under its own weight, glimmering at the tip with his precum. You’d never been with a guy who was uncut but the sight made you drool.
“Now, liebling,” he says suddenly, getting your attention. He scoots closer, spreading your legs as wide as he can before laying the hefty weight of his cock against your cunt. It’s hot and throbbing and your entire body trembles at the sight, “You have to understand something.”
“What..?” you ask, breathless and unable to look away from his cock.
“I am not like those little boys you were running around with,” he explains, hips slowly beginning to rut against you, length parting your folds and rubbing over your clit, drawing a sweet little moan from you, “I don’t stick my cock in a tight little cunt and blow my load, do you know what I’m saying?”
You shake your head, too lost in the sight and feeling of him practically fucking the outside of your pussy. He doesn’t stop the mind-numbing rolls of his hips, letting you get lost in the feeling of him stroking over your clit, saturating him in your cum.
“That means,” he sighs, reaching up to grip your throat, forcing you to look at him as he leaned over your body, sandwiching his cock between the two of you, “I don’t cum easily, liebling. I am a grown man, I will fuck you until you cannot cum anymore. Are you prepared for that?”
The fact this man was so confident in his abilities in bed has you clenching around nothing again. You were sure the guys you almost slept with would never have been able to have the pure confidence that came from König. He knew what he was doing – he knew how to make you cum and he was going to use that experience well. You knew his age played a factor in how long it would take him to cum and you couldn’t wait to experience it.
“I want it so bad, König,” you beg softly, “Please?”
“Very good,” he praised, “You’re so good for me.”
He finally gripped the base of his cock and you watched excitedly as he pressed the tip against your entrance. You reached down and wrapped your arms around your knees, pulling them back for him so he could comfortably begin pressing into you.
The stretch is beyond anything you’d ever felt before. You knew his cock was big but watching the bulbous tip press against you and slowly spread you wide open was something else entirely. It burned in a way that had you wincing, furrowed brows making your face pinch up, making König pause.
“It’s okay, little one,” he whispers, bringing a big thumb up to roll over your hard little clit, “Just relax for me, don’t clench up or it will hurt more.”
“I-It’s so big, König!” you wail helplessly, tearily staring up at him as he methodically works you open on his cock.
“I know,” he assures, still stroking your clit with the pad of his thumb, “But you can take it.”
You tearfully nod your head and do your best to relax your body, letting yourself sink into the couch.
“Good, liebling, very good,” he coos, “Just let me in, nice and slow. Doesn’t it feel nice? The little burn of being stretched open but the pleasure of having this pretty little clit played with? Just lay back and enjoy it, little one.”
He’s right, of course. The burn aches, yes, but the pain and pleasure mixes the more he rubs your clit. You clench around him, an involuntary reaction that causes the head of his cock to finally pop in. Your eyes widen as you watch your cunt swallow it and with a perfectly timed tap against your clit, your back arches and you’re cumming.
“O-Oh König!” you squeal, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum around the head of his cock and nothing else.
“Oh, that’s good,” he grins, “That’s perfect, little one.”
As you come down with a tremble in your thighs, you finally fix your gaze on him once again.His eyes are lidded and pupils are blown so wide you can’t even tell they’re blue anymore.
“That looked like a good one,” he comments almost flippantly before he rolls his hips forward, “Now you’re nice and ready for me.”
You choke on a gasp as he rolls his hips forward, fitting half of his cock inside your still spasming cunt. Your cum coats him in a slick sheen that aides in allowing him to pull back and slide back in, settling on fucking you on half his cock.
Your mouth falls open and you watch as a thick, milky ring forms around that fat middle part of his shaft, “M-More, König! Please!”
He knows you want all of him, want to know what it’s like to feel all of him stuffed deep inside you. But he knows you’re not quite ready for that yet, fucked out of your head from the intense orgasm he had just given you with ease.
“Not yet, liebling,” he coos, keeping his pace slow and steady, “Let’s work you open a little bit more, yeah?”
“No,” you whine, “Please, I want it all, König.”
“Aww, I know you do, little one,” he pants, already feeling dizzy from spearing you on his cock, “But I know what’s good for you, just listen to me and be good, okay?”
“Okay…” you pitifully whimper, sinking back into the couch.
You abandon your hold on your legs, letting them rest around his hips limply now. He continues moving like that, inching deeper and deeper into you with every thrust. Your cunt makes embarrassingly loud squishing noises the move he works his hips against you.
Before you know it, you’re watching with wide eyes and an open mouth as his pelvis presses against yours. Your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl in pure pleasure as you finally experience the entirety of everything König has to offer.
You’re speared wide open and the head knocks against your cervix painfully but the little bit of pain only makes the pleasure that much sweeter.
“There we go, little one,” he coos sweetly, “I’m so proud of you, took all of my cock so well.”
He’s so big that he presses against every sweet little spot inside you without even trying. But, oh, his experience is crystal clear in the way he moves. He may be naturally gifted with a nice, fat cock but he knew how to use it.
Seamless, rhythmic thrusts had your brain going fuzzy before you even knew what was happening. You wouldn’t have been able to be quiet even if you wanted to. You knew you would be absolutely horrified to face your neighbors later because it would be impossible for them to not know you got fucked real good.
Suddenly, König leaned over you, resting one forearm above your head to hold his weight off of you. The position caused his pelvis against your clit every time he sunk balls deep. Sticky strings of your cum stuck to his skin but he didn’t seem to even notice how wet you were.
But, oh, he did. He was absolutely obsessed with the way you creamed and gushed around him. A nice, pliant little pussy that was more than eager to swallow every inch of his cock.
The change in position had you grappling onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wailed into his shoulder. Every mind-numbing snap of his hips hit that gooey, tender spot inside you that had your entire body twitching from the pleasurable stimulation. Your nails bit into his back and he briefly thought about the prospect of his recruits seeing them.
“Are you going to cum for me?” he whispered in your ear, pressing a sweet kiss underneath your ear.
You nod your head, “Y-Yes! You’re gonna make me c-cum again, König!”
He chuckles under his breath, “I know I am, little one. I’m going to make you squirt.”
“C-Can’t,” you heave, twitchy legs kicking against his back.
“Yes, you can,” he assures, leaning away to sit up once again, “I can make you squirt, trust me.”
The whine you emit pitches into a squeal when he presses his palm against your lower stomach. You reached down in a panic to grab his wrist, not used to the strange feeling of him pressing down while he fucks you.
“W-Wait!” you wail.
“Wait for what?” he asks, but doesn’t slow even a bit in his movements.
“F-Feels weird!” you gasp, hiccuping as you squeeze his wrist.
“I know,” he grunts, brows furrowing at the feeling of you clenching around him, “It’s supposed to. Just lay back and let it happen, liebling. I’ve got you.”
Your whole body trembles and your jaw drops as you meet his gaze, a look of wonder crossing your face as you feel an orgasm like you’ve never felt before crash over your body. It’s long, drawn out and almost painful from how good it feels. You squeeze tight around him, your clit twitching and pulsing, completely untouched as he makes you squirt. It splashes against his abdomen and drips down his thighs.
“There we go,” he laughs, a sound that sends a flush of embarrassment to your face, “See? I told you you could do it.”
“König…” you slur, feeling as if you’ve been fucked completely braindead.
It finally dawned on you that you would never, ever be fucked by anyone as good as König has fucked you. The first cock you’ve ever been stuffed full of and he made you squirt with terrifying ease. You were completely ruined, no dick would ever be able to compare to his.
He sees the way your gaze turns completely enamored, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. He grins, sharp canines poking out as he leans down again, kissing your temple.
“What is it, baby?” he coos, “Dick so good it’s got you in love?”
You keen at the pure condescension that drips from his voice. But he’s not wrong, you can practically feel the hearts in your eyes as you gaze up at him.
You have no idea how long you’ve been pinned beneath him, speared open on his cock while he fucks you absolutely stupid. You notice the change in him quite suddenly. His deep, concentrated thrust changed into something less calculated, messy almost. He loses his rhythm and falters in his pace.
“I’m going to cum, liebling,” he grunts, tone pitchy and gruff, “Where do you want it?”
“Inside!” you immediately cry, not missing a beat.
He sees your eyes light up at the prospect of being filled up completely by his cum. You’re so sure it’s going to be a lot, you want to feel it drip out of you as a reminder that he had claimed you.
“Is it safe?” he huffs, but you can feel his cock twitch inside you at the idea of cumming inside you.
You desperately nod your head and he allows himself to fall over that edge. He teeters on his knees before collapsing with his hands on either side of your head. He no longer tries to thrust, settling for desperate, deep grinds that stirs his cock within your walls. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling, another orgasm washing over you before you even realize you’re that close.
“Oh, fuck,” König gasps, voice breaking as your orgasm sends him over the edge.
You’re panting and whimpering, trembling as you feel the heat of his load filling you up. His cock twitches with every spurt of cum. It’s the best orgasm he’s had in a long time, his balls throbbing with every pump of cum his cock spits out.
It oozes from around the tight seal you have around him, dripping onto the couch. He’s trembling by the time the intense orgasm comes to an end. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them, to see you sleepily staring up at him with a dazed smile on your lips.
“Mein Gott…” he huffs out, lowering his body to press his lips against yours sweetly, “That was incredible, liebling.”
You beam under his praise and wrap your arms around his neck, “It was, wasn’t it?”
He chuckles and strokes his thumb against your cheek, “Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”
“Sounds good,” you agree.
The care he gives you afterwards is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. He wipes your body down gently, careful not to rub your skin too hard. He stands with you in the shower, towering over you as he lathers your exhausted body with soap.
“Can we do that again sometime?” You ask softly when he crawls into bed beside you – which you were shocked about, but didn’t complain.
He raises a brow and chuckles, “Yes, liebling. But not right now, I could not go another round so soon.”
You giggle and snuggle into his broad chest, practically preening when he wraps you up snug against him. You sigh softly and speak up again, “Can we…still go on that date..?”
He’s quiet for a moment before you feel a kiss on the top of your head, “Of course, liebling. I would love to.”
You smile to yourself and close your eyes, content to fall asleep wrapped up in his arms. The last thing you feel before you succumb to sleep is another soft kiss against your head. You realize, sleepily, that you’ve never felt more cared for by a man in your life.
property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.
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It makes perfect sense that you are failing potionology, you come from a world without magic! You just wished your failures weren’t the recent entertainment to a certain vice-housewarden.
tags: developing relationship, character analysis, teeth analysis, teasing, potion accidents, 5 + 1 trope, comedy of errors, suggestive themes, & getting together
word count: 21,656
Since the beginning of your impromptu enrollment in Night Raven College, classes have taken your dizzy brain and swirled it around like mixed cake batter. Uncaring of your blunders, the courses march on. You have had multiple professors pull you aside for hush conversations about how: magic might not be something you should be studying; you’re showing great difficulty with this section, my door’s open for extra help; do you have any hobbies, perhaps you should look to pursue one of those.
You wonder if they knew you were from another world entirely along with being magicless, their tone might change. Compared to others, you were leaps and bounds above where you should be.
Not that you are aware of your competence. And, even then, it is never enough. Which is admittedly very frustrating. You do not like to be viewed as a failure or incompetent.
Back at home, you were always on top of your studies, kept yourself afloat on a little canoe. In Twisted Wonderland, your limbs grow fatigue with how harshly you have to tread water to stay afloat. Constantly, you felt ready to drown. You manage to withstand it though, avoiding going under by keeping water a fine line across your chin and bottom lip.
And, even then, that is never enough.
I. The scarab beetle was added before ginger root when the correct order is ginger root then scarab.
To be fair, you are tired beyond belief. You had to pull off your gloves multiple times to rub sleep out of your eyes. Switching up the order of the ingredients … This is one of the stupider mistakes you have made in Professor Crewel’s class. To be thoroughly fair, the anxiety about your recent situation coupled with sleeping on the uncomfortable spare bed in Leona’s room has been starting to kill your restful nights.
What a well devised strategy. Chip away at the mental fortitude of a person by taking away physical comforts. Azul Ashengrotto truly knows where to point the arrow notched in his bow.
You just wish he had chosen anyone other than you.
Yawning, you deposit the comatose scarab beetle into the cauldron. One second it is a black freckle on the gray-blue mixture, and then the next second it has been dissolved down to the bone. It ate it as quickly as acid does, you think awestruck, I’m glad I’m wearing gloves. Said gloved hand holds itself outstretched towards Ace, your lab partner, as you murmur, “Okay, hand me the ginger root now.”
“Huh? I already handed you that though,” Ace says, looking up from the logs of cinnamon he is cutting as instructed.
Usually you two have Grim do the physical labor, cutting up ingredients, while you and Ace uptake harder tasks. However, Grim is not free, called in for an impromptu shift during school hours. Part of you cannot comprehend how that is possible – to work during school – but another part of you cannot comprehend magic, so really the whole globe, this Twisted Wonderland, is incomprehensible.
An incomprehensible globe where you make friends with the stupidest of the bunch.
“No you didn’t; you handed me the next ingredient that had to go in.”
“Yeah, which was ginger root. Don’t tell me the fumes in here are making you stupider, Prefect. Your brain fried or something,” Ace asks. He tilts his head in a taunting way that is not effective due to the anemone sprouting from his skull.
“Says the one with the anemone coming out of his brains.”
“Hey! Just because you’re being forgetful doesn’t mean ya get to insult me!”
“Please don’t play smart with me right now. I just need —.” Your words fall out of your mouth as you catch the sight of ginger root sitting pretty on your side of the lab table, untouched and not in the potion. You blank, dumb, until a sudden heat wave washes over you.
Not a blush though you realize as a smoke cloud of brimstone blooms up mushroom-like from your cauldron. Your once squinting eyes widen in fear.
The potion releases a wave of gas as it evaporates away in seconds. It feels like getting punched with heat after opening an oven. As you stand there looking at the bottom of your cauldron, mourning your potion, you suddenly hear laughter in the midst of this new humidity.
“... No — HAHAHA — No fucking way! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Dread fills you first upon hearing it. Whatever has Ace laughing and pointing at you is definitely not a positive in your book. Sevens above, you are not dealing with being potion-ed cat ears again. It must be something physical on you at very least. Because, Ace has not stopped pointing and bursts out between his bellows, “Now you match the part of looking like an idiot! HAHAHA!”
Annoyance quickly shoves dread to the side. Gut-instinct guides your hand before your brain can catch up. Clutching ginger root, you reel back your arm ready to whack Ace with it until a certain hand shackles your wrist. Shit.
“Ace! (Name)! Once again, this is unacceptable behavior from both of you. Did your parents pick you off the streets and neglect training?” Ah, you recognize those dog analogies anywhere. Curling in on yourself, you turn around to give Professor Crewel a sheepish smile while he keeps your wrist hostage.
“Sorry, Professor Crewel.”
You would be delusional to think your potionology professor has a soft spot for you; he probably only sees you as a nippy Pomeranian or a Retriever freshly showered in mud. The scowl on his face is something you have come to be familiar with from August to November.
Crewel sighs, “Luckily, these supplies are not hard to obtain. I’ll be sending both of you to fetch more ginger root and scarabs from the botanical gardens.” His steely eyes aim at you. “And Prefect, I suggest retrieving a hat for yourself. An unsightly look is one step away from a disorganized headspace. Try to be a bit more mindful, pup.”
“Yes, Professor Crewel.”
You have no idea where the fashion advice came from. However, you are not going to dig yourself a deeper hole by asking the Professor what he means by unsightly look and disorganized head. Besides with the way Ace is still biting down a grin, you expect that you will privy to it soon.
“Dismissed.” Professor Crewel sends you on your way.
As soon as you two round the cauldron, you and Ace are both immediately on one another. He grabs the back of your neck as you kick his shin. Idiot! No you’re an idiot! Says the idiot! Ace pinches your cheek as you give him a Chinese burn, grabbing his forearm and twisting it in your grip. I can’t believe you messed that up! At least I’m not signing contracts to cheat! Stumbling to the door, kicking and fighting with each other, you just barely catch the glimpse of Deuce sending a wince of sympathy your way.
Ace sticks his finger in your ear. His spit-coated touch sends a shiver down your spine. Breaking your whispering, you caterwaul just as you push Ace and yourself out of Crewel’s classroom, “I’m gonna kick you where the sun don’t shine, asshat!” Ace’s cackles are the last thing the classroom hears before the door shuts firmly in place.
The botanical gardens are not somewhere you find yourself often. The mere size of it intimidates you greatly. Plus, it has so many dangerous things lurking inside of it like lion tails, man-eating plants, and carrots that when plucked incorrectly can send you into a coma just from a single scream. For your own growing trepidation, you choose to stay out for safety reasons.
Though splitting up is not your idea, you still concede to it. The guilt over your sleep-addled mistake speeds up your agreement. After all, it was you who switched the order. Thus, you walk around the botanical gardens looking to grab dandelion root (which came before the scarab beetle and ginger root) while Ace gathers a single scarab beetle.
At least Ace takes up the more perilous task for you. Scarab beetles when provoked flicker on and off in a brilliant light display of red until it explodes. If the mage cannot match the rhythm of beeping reds with the light of their magic pen, the scarab self-destructs. It is hazardous for you to anywhere near an alive scarab. Besides …
Danger finds you like a faithful, old friend.
Standing on the little bridge that curves over the miniature river, danger arrives at your side like a mistress. “So pretty,” someone whispers breathlessly. You choose to ignore this, thinking someone is appreciating the flowers. Pamphlet in hand, you worry your bottom lip and consider which side of the bridge you have to walk down to find the dandelion roots.
“He-Hello there, Prefect. Quite a nice day for a stroll, don’t you think?”
Caught off guard, you turn to see who is addressing you. It is one of those Octavinelle twins. He holds an empty jar in his gloved hand. However, you are unsure of which one you are dealing with.
“Ah … yeah,” you twitch as you respond. Where the hell is Ace? You would rather not be alone with a mage that you saw send multiple students to the infirmary only two days ago. You remember it vividly: all the students rushing forward to tear up the contract, as Azul stood on the table, saying with fake direness, “Dear me, I really didn’t want to resort to violence, but alas. Jade. Floyd. Play with them for a bit.”
You shift your eyes away like one might avert the gaze of a stumbling, rabid raccoon. “Sure is … a nice day?” Truthfully, you don’t think you have had one of those in Twisted Wonderland. Your day has just gotten worse in the twin’s presence.
Under the canopy of black walnut leaves and palm washingtonias, you assess all your escape routes. Whichever twin this is, he is looking at you so intensely, eyes half-lidded and the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks. It takes only a moment for you to realize he is staring at what lies on your head, but you have enough time to map your escape route.
“Well, it was nice seeing you –,” you start, heading down the bridge, in the opposite direction of the Octavinelle twin. You just barely make it a step and a half when he catches you off guard again.
“You have Potionology this period, yes? It is a Wednesday after all.” How the hell does he know that?
Yet, hearing how he structures his words, you think you finally recognize which one it is … Jade, who had said to you just yesterday, “And if you’re in need of lodgings, feel free to come and speak with us. Reservations for guest rooms in Octavinelle dorm starts at 100 thaurmarks a night.” The last conversation that happened between you two. Eyes pinching down, you think, he’s such an asshat for saying that to you who is very much broke beyond broke.
“Yeah, I do.” You resume your steadyfast escape route. You can clearly hear Jade walk over the wooden bridge, following after you.
“If my deduction is correct, it seems you have been caught up in the potion accident. What a most unfortunate turn of events; potionology is often a tricky subject for students to grasp.”
Yeah, and without magic or a basic education on this stuff, it’s impossible for me. You send Jade a wary glance. Now matching strides, you really have no choice but to converse with him or your friends will probably suffer more during their shifts. “Yeah, I messed one up.”
But no one says you have to be verbose during it.
You ponder on why Jade is so interested in the multiple sea anemones blooming from your head. When your scuffle with Ace finally ebbed, the Heartslabyul student turned on his front-facing camera so you could finally see what made you look like an idiot. A glowing crown of blue sea anemones form around your head.
You cringed, your matching visage on Ace’s phone doing the same. Of course you are not spared any break from humiliation; when you come back to your temporary lodgings, Leona is probably going to laugh up a sandstorm. Ugh … you hate that stupid lion!
Jade says, “I’ve noticed this happens to you frequently. In August, you gained cat ears and could only speak in crying meows. You were deaged down to a toddler on September 14th. Then in October, you underwent a body swap with your friend, Ace Trappola, for a full five days; Thursday through Monday. Am I correct?” How the absolute fuck does he know that?
“...Yeah.”
“You know, Octavinelle is always willing to help those in need. I, myself, can offer –”
“No thanks.” You glance at the pamphlet and take a sharp left turn. Jade follows.
“My, what a harsh rejection. How audacious of you to deny me when I am scheduled to train Deuce and Ace later on tonight. But, I suppose if that is how you feel –”
Begrudgingly, you turn around and frown, “Be easy on them, won’t you? Bye, Jade.” Snapping your pamphlet open wider, you continue on your way.
What an idiot. You already stuck your neck out enough for them by signing Azul’s contract. Keeping polite conversation with Jade? You could do that. However, you will not take up another deal with Octavinelle anytime soon, unless … well, no, you think to yourself. That hovering ‘unless’ probably won’t happen with Jade. Whatever Jade needs, he can find elsewhere.
Dandelion roots should just be down a little farther; another right turn and you should be upon them. At least that is how your route would have gone if you were not grabbed and spun around by your shoulders. You stare into Jade’s dilated eyes in shock.
“Prefect,” his voice comes out more growl than speech. He soothes his fake humanitarianism voice with a cough and repeats, “Prefect. Just hear me out.” The vice-housewarden almost sounds desperate to keep your attention on him.
“Okay.” You try to ignore the close-lipped smile on his face as you fold up your pamphlet. “Okay.” Dandelion roots are one of the few non-sentient plants in this twisted wonderland, so you can pause your search for Professor Crewel for a mere moment. “I messed up a potion today, but I don’t need your help with it.”
Tutoring … from anyone. You despise the very thought. Before, you were so capable and so independent; now, you have to waver and bend yourself to the assistance of everyone in this alien world. God, you cannot even protect yourself from your day to day. The entire world outscales you like a final boss compared to a NPC.
“Are you absolutely certain? Who knows what kind of misfortune can fall upon you at the hands of a botched potion? Who knows, you could find yourself breathing in poisonous gas or having your intestines turned inside out. What an excruciating sensation.”
A whole body shiver runs down your spine. The fact that that is not out of the realm of possibility makes you loathe your existence in this world even more. Still … “What do you want from me?” … you have Ace and Grim at least making sure you aren’t blown to bits by an exploding cauldron.
“It is just a simple matter of the fungus growing from your head.”
“Fungus?”
Jade’s voice turns so fond that it startles another shiver from you. His lovestruck gaze fastens itself to the apparent mushroom crown sitting on your skull. “Entoloma Hochstetteri mushrooms. The non-scientific name is blue pinkgills.”
Bored and tired, you yawn. Jade glances down at your mouth with pervertish intrigue. It might just be the same amatory he regards the blue pinkgills with staying in his eyes. However, you can imagine him mocking you about having to sleep in Leona Kingscholar’s room so you screw your mouth into a frown.
And, as if reading your body language with ease, Jade offers, “If you are still having troubles with your lodging, I’d benevolently suggest a trade.”
“A trade?”
“A room in Octavinelle, free of charge; all to yourself and your dire-beast for the full two days left in your contract. In exchange, you will give me the Entoloma Hochstetteri blooming from your head. An item for another item. Fair, yes?”
“No.” You straighten your posture. “I want something everlasting; not just temporary satisfaction.”
“Oya? Whatever did you have in mind?”
This is something you have been pondering about for a while. Truthfully, you were considering it your very first week after the encounter with the overblotted creature in the mines. Taking a deep breath, you announce your only term, “I want protection against overblots.”
Jade’s optics grow, dilating and blinking in surprise. It is … simultaneously an extremely well thought out and dumb request. Protection is something you need. But with Jade, someone you barely just met, providing you protection? You neither seem like the type to trust people too quickly or too hold out trust until the very end.
Immediately on detective mode, Jade tries to figure out your aim. “Overblots are very rare phenomenon. Do you –?”
“Tell me more about these pinkgills,” you suddenly interrupt, noticing that he is slipping into doubt over this deal.
A hand covers over his erratic heart, and a small sliver of teeth peek through his smile. “Ah, I’d be delighted to. Blue pinkgills are quite mysterious. No one knows if they are edible because no one has dared to try them. There is a peninsula that features them on their currency as well. It is the only country to have a piece of currency featuring a mushroom on it; I’d be delighted to have the opportunity to visit it someday.”
“That’s really interesting. Are they rare to cultivate,” you ask, faking genuine curiosity.
“Unfortunately, yes. They are native to that one peninsula and thus –”
“Hard to come by? Rare?”
You supply Jade with the words he is looking for. Subtly, you remind him of the fact these limited mushrooms are just a person’s deal away. The blue halo on your head becomes more and more enticing to Jade by the second. Blue that also bleeds with the color, such a psychedelic hue that almost hurts to look at.
You look like an angel under it … You? Jade hesitates at his train of thought; that is not the conclusion he thought his mind would go to.
“What a surprise fufu; you are not as brainless as I intentionally presumed, (Name).” Smitten emotion slowly drains from his dual-eyes as he takes in your visage whole, not just the prize hanging above your head.
This is good. Jack could protect me but he is only a first year mage. Ace and Deuce do a good enough job. Grim is only food motivated. Jade did send multiple students to the infirmary by himself. This – “I’m glad to prove such an intelligent mage such as yourself wrong. It’s the first time I have ever done so.” – This is good. This deal will keep me alive and safe.
Jade shakes the hand you have offered up to him. However, before you can end the contact, he yanks you towards him. A groan of pain bleeds from you as you are pulled chest to chest with him. Chin pinched skyward by his other hand, you look into two halos, one gold and the other umber.
Right away, you clock it as an intimidation tactic, so you do not let yourself appear frightened. Compared to those overblots you faced …
“However, it would not be fair if I did not receive something everlasting as well. Not just temporary satisfaction.”
Subtle eyes dart around the botanical gardens, trying to find Ace, but halos are all you see. “Okay, what do you want on your end?”
“It is quite common for you to find yourself caught up in the misfortune of a poorly made potion. I want to be there – to watch you struggle and to watch you be powerless. That is all you need to give me.”
“I … I can do that.”
“Then, it’s a deal.”
When you met Jade officially in the cafeteria, you picked up his subtle habit of bringing his hooked index finger up to his mouth before he could smile too wide. When meeting with Azul in the VIP Room, he was very subdued and subservient unlike his twin, listening instead of laughing and nodding along instead of nagging vexed. Now when making a deal with the vice-housewarden, you find yourself peering through a tear in the fabric that envelops him day to day.
For the first time ever, you get to see Jade smile with all his teeth. They curl down and up, reminding you almost of cat claws, with an acute sharpness in each individual tooth. They ensnare you.
II. Your basilisk's egg was not incubated at the correct temperature of 2300 degrees fahrenheit.
Your basilisk’s egg is colder than the collective’s by many, many degrees. Honestly, you blame this one on Professor Crewel for not putting the much needed comma between the two and the three; it was completely natural of you to assume 230 degrees fahrenheit was correct when 2,300 is an outrageous temperature. Regular incubators in your world could not even reach that level of heat!
When you cracked the unfertilized eggs of a serpent king into the cauldron, you sheepishly noticed how much lighter the shade of red yours is compared to others. Almost the pink of a flamingo’s feathers, not red like cranberries, not red like everyone else’s.
Already too late though; the pink-hued yolk has already sludged into the cauldron. Gravity, such a conniving bastard. You can only watch helplessly as impact is made; the eggshell in your hand is now empty.
Then, all the liquid in your cauldron rises up like a geyser.
“Woah!”
“Holy shit!”
“(Name)!”
Ducking behind your hands, you yell back at Ace, “I didn’t!” That is all you get out before the potion shower lands all over you. You spit out what got into your mouth, “mean to … bleh!”
Magenta sludge drips off your uniform in thick plopping sounds. It is the consistency of a milkshake and you shiver when you realize some has definitely gone down the back of your shirt.
“Why are both of you clean,” you whine, disassembling the poorly made umbrella your hands made. They drop away from your temple, coated in magenta. Shaking the potion off your gloves, you frown at seeing how both Ace and Grim are unaffected by the geyser that just drenched you. The clumps of potion in your hair make your frown evolve into a grimace.
Grossed out at the sight of you, Ace winches and waves around his magic pen. “Used-a protection spell. Dude, you look ridiculous, haha. Doesn’t that burn?”
“No, it’s oddly really cold.”
Definitely the consistency and temperature of a milkshake. You strip yourself of your gloves, carefully folding them inside out. “Ugh, this is going to take forever to wash off.” You do not even know which part of your body to start shaking off like a dog. Your one good lab-coat and your one good uniform, ruined and presumably stained.
An alert shiver zigzags up your spine, and you turn around just in time to see Professor Crewel come out of his horrified stupor.
As he stands up from his desk, you get this overwhelming urge to run away. You have to physically focus on planting your feet down so this psoriasis itch does not cause you to turn tail and flee. It’s my fault, so I need to accept punishment. Unconvinced by your self-loathing, your body shakes in jitters, ready to rush out of the room should mental resistance let up.
You are unaware of it, but those emotional cactus pricks of needing to run away from danger will follow you all day long today.
Once finally released from Crewel’s classroom — you had to scrub down everything from the floor, use the emergency shower to peel sludge out your hair, and are given the briefest pat of sympathy on the shoulder — you run into Ace on his way to his club meeting. Is it really that late, you think. Grim left to attend all your other classes, skimping out on the cleanup that was ‘so not his fault! see ya!’ Now you wander, weighing if you should go to Octavinelle first or Ramshackle first. Find Grim or Find Jade?
“Can I join ya,” you ask as you slot yourself next to Ace in the hallway. If Floyd is at practice, you might be able to ask him where Jade is which ends the search for one person. However, it a mute point when you realize:
“It’s kinda a coin-toss if Floyd shows up or not,” Ace responds to your question, both of you standing in the doorway of the gymnasium. Where’s Floyd was what you had asked. Diligently, you search the crowd now. With his height he should be easy to spot; you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. There is really no way you can contact Jade as you do not have his number or know his schedule.
What an asshat. You bet Jade just loves the idea of you squirming around to find him. While he can descend on you like a vulture without any forewarning with his sixth sense for entertainment, you have a harder time locating him.
Without any warning, you suddenly sidestep away from Ace. The redhead raises an eyebrow curiously before his expression drops in shock. In the spot where you were standing, Floyd trips and hits the ground hard.
“Woah!!” You and Ace shout in unison.
On the ground, Floyd has the same expression of shock that you two do. Though, it slowly morphs to sadness as he rubs the back of his skull. Seated on the gymnasium floor, rubbing his bruise, Floyd grumbles sullenly, “Why ya do that, Shrimpy? I just wanted to squeeze ya. Haven’t seen you all December.”
Ignoring that, you ask, “Floyd, do you know where Jade is?”
“Ya wanna see Jade?” That relights the eel’s energy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t – which is probably a lot of things, considering where you come from and where you are. “Sure, I’ll take ya. I wasn’t feelin’ basketball practice anyways.”
So, thus you end up following Floyd and Ace like a duckling. Thinking to yourself that this will have to be what happens more in the future. Find someone who knows where Jade is, glue yourself to his side after you messed up a potion, conclude a trail of test runs that borderline on torture. Yet … it is worth it to some extent.
Vividly, you recall each instance where Jade Leech put himself between you and your faithful friend, Danger. He protected you with a variety of spells the first years have not learned yet in NRC’s curriculum. It really is a valuable deal.
After Azul Ashengrotto’s overblot, talk between you and Jade has been sparse. It is not like the two of you are going to become friends. A mouse does not become buddy-buddy with a cat. There will never be mutualism between the two species.
Your train of thought slowly ebbs when you realize Floyd, Ace, and yourself are nearing up on Jade. Floyd seems to be crouching forward, in a way that you assumed he did earlier when trying to ambush and scare you at the gym’s entrance. This should be interesting, seeing if Floyd could succeed in getting the jump on his twin. At least it would have been if you didn’t feel like a sword sliced down your spine, spreading heat all over the planes of your body.
“Shit!” You shriek, rushing and bumping into Floyd, seconds before someone yells:
“Hey! Look out!”
In the exact spot you were standing, a framed portrait makes a crashing descent. Well, it would have been crashing if not for a lilac spell wrapping itself around the portrait. Quick and alert, Jade holds out his magic pen, levitating the talking portrait while you and Floyd gather your bearings.
“Geez, Shrimpyyy, what was that for,” Floyd groans, rubbing his arm with a sour look. “You’ve been more like a jumpin’ fish than a shrimp. All skittish and squirmy.”
“I’m sorry, I just felt – Jade, cut it out!”
It is not that Jade is doing anything particularly mischievous. However, when the spell rotates the portrait to face you instead of with its back facing all of you, a shiver that is painful and palpable burns all your pores. The portrait is of a lich, rotted gray skin with curling yellow horns and piercing red eyes.
The voice that comes from the portrait sounds like dark corners of a dangerous night. “What are you mortals looking at?”
Run away, each branch of the nervous system agrees in unison. Terrified, you push off Floyd and rush behind Jade, innately remembering he is supposed to protect you.
“Wh-What are you doing, (Name)?” Ace asks, glancing at you in confusion.
The Horned King seems just as skeptical towards you. Jade, raising a perfect eyebrow, looks back at your cowering form and the portrait.
You can see all the calculations erasing, rewriting, and improving themselves in his head. His million and one hypotheses about the world around him.
“Hm, this is curious,” Jade murmurs just as the person who dropped the portrait calls out:
“My bad man. Stupid spell.” Over the railing of the stairwell, the student setting up the portraits sends you all an apologetic look. Then, noticing the nefarious grin on the vice-housewarden’s face, says quicker, “I’m so sorry about that!”
“Nonsense, I think this has caused an interesting revelation.” Slowly, Jade levitates the portrait up to the student who is very skittish to carry it on with his own spell. “Prefect, how do you feel right now?”
“I don’t know how to describe it … Like a bunch of fire ants just crawled on my skin and bit me all at once.”
“Seems you do know to articulate your thoughts.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, Jade.”
He smiles as if you have just complimented him. “Did you mess up a potion beforehand?”
Your eyes squint in suspicion. “Yeah, I uncooked my basilisk egg. How did you know I messed one up though?”
“Simply an observation. I think the potion causes you to have a heightened sensitivity to danger. You knew when danger was coming and rushed away from it. Foresight?”
“I suppose, who knows,” you say, watching the portrait like a bunny in a burrow might watch a predator, waiting for it to slip away to another area. Tension ebbs from you as the other student takes it and begins his task of rearranging them. You step out of the protective shadow of Jade Leech.
“Who knows,” you repeat, intrigued. “Maybe if I mess up a potion like this again, I can call our deal off. I won’t need your help.” A smile comes up to your face, imagining yourself independent.
Jade only scowls. You wonder whatever for but —
“What did you do to mess up the potion, (Name)! Please, I need it! This would be like an alarm for whenever Riddle’s nearby! I could get away with so much!” Ace squeezes your shoulders with a bruising intensity.
Ripping yourself from him, you stumble back. A soft ‘ow’ parts your mouth when you collide with something, spine to chest. Jade’s gloved hands come down upon your shoulders unexpectedly, pinning you in place. “Basilisk eggs are a delicacy. They aren’t hard to obtain but they are certainly pricey. However, if you are ever serious about your inquiry, Ace … Azul’s office is always open to help.”
It seems that Ace’s sense of danger is alive and well too, for he takes several steps back at Jade’s words. “Well … when you put it like that, heh. I suppose I’m alright.” His eyes shift to the hold Jade has on your shoulder, not shaken off or side-stepped.
“But you were so eager before.” Jade frowns, putting on an act. He looks awful sorry to see Ace skirter away like a crab poked by sticks at the beach. It is a mere masquerade.
“Naah, I’m good. Have fun, (Name)!”
“Ha-Have fun?!” You sputter indignant.
But Ace has already left with Floyd in tow. Basketball practice waits for no man. Left alone in the hallway, you shudder in the delicate embrace of a dangerous predator.
“Have fun … what an appropriate saying.” Jade leans down over you with a smile. You should have known from that smile alone it was going to be bad. And it proves to be bad! Because, of course, it has to do with mushrooms again.
Jade takes you hiking. Apparently, his club starts around the same time as Floyd, and Jade is nothing but meticulous about schedules. So, you are going to be alone in the mountains with Jade … it does not take a magical potion to know that it is a new episode of a true crime podcast waiting to happen.
You tell the three Ramshackle ghosts if you do not come back to treat Grim kindly as you zipper up the hoodie Jade said you would need. The knock on your building’s door sends a shiver down your spine that burns. Like a lightning bolt of prickling pain that makes each pore tingle with fire. You are starting to regret this contract.
“So what exactly am I going to be doing?” You ask Jade as you two make your way down a beaten trail. A heightened sense of danger seems quite trivial for a walk in the woods.
“I was rolling the traits of the potion over in my head,” Jade says, his back to you as he leads the way. “And I was thinking, what a perfect opportunity to unearth the mystery of blue pinkgills.”
“What do you mean?”
“No one has gathered up the courage to test if they are poisonous or not. Being poisoned is an obvious endangerment to a body’s health, don’t you agree?”
“You can’t be serious.” His back never turns. “Jade, no way!”
The smile in his voice is palpable as he teases, “I am only joking. After your potion wore off, the blue pinkgills you gifted me decayed instantly.”
You breathe a short-lived sigh of relief. “However, that doesn’t mean your potion can’t be utilized on this hike.”
“I’m not going to eat a single mushroom.” You vow.
“Nothing of the sort. The hypothesis I want to test out is a bit different.”
Hypothesis? This relationship via contract is akin to a type of scientist’s experiment. Before you can think about the roles of yourself and Jade, your entire body is engulfed with a terrible sense of burning like each particle suddenly was torn in two. It is an appropriate reaction when you realize an entire uprooted tree is rocketing towards you with high-speed velocity.
“Shit!” You shriek. That is far as your body stays your own. Each atom of the muscular system is possessed by the potion. The potion puppets your body and you find yourself successfully leaping over the horizontal tree-trunk. One hand plants itself on the wood; your legs bunch up to your stomach and then you are catapulting yourself over a log.
When you plant yourself on the opposite side, feet landing perfectly, your gaze hardens into a glare. “What the hell, Ja–!” An uprooted bush tries to ambush you. Shrieking, the potion puppets all but your fearful vocal cords.
“Now, let’s see,” Jade muses, waving his magic pen. His gold and olive eyes study you. “If I attack from both the front and the back, does it react simultaneously?”
“Jade!”
“Excellent, it does,” Jade celebrates with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.
So, thus it begins. Your first real experiment with Jade and he is throwing an entire forest at you. Frantically, your body jumps and leaps out of the way of roots that try to sweep your legs and rocks that try to cut your arms. You even do a front flip to avoid a particular rock being thrown at you. You don’t know how to do flips unless on a trampoline! Nine of our ten times, you land on your butt performing them; yet, on solid ground you just completed your first front flip on land. Precise yet abusive, your body is puppeted by the potion and Jade’s ministrations.
If you had known you were going to be attacked, you would have never chosen Jade as your protector.
Suddenly, in the hurricane of foliage and earth, all it changes track and aims away from you. Each individual part – rock, tree branch, colt of dirt, flower and mushrooms – splits. Ignoring your body, the hurricane slips behind you in a frenzy. Wind magic maneuvers your hair in the same direction of all that flying fauna. Then, a fist is in front of your face.
Your body does not dodge. Rather, it plants itself like stone, sensing all the danger is gone.
You hear all the uprooted discord crashing behind you. Each rock lands like a meteor into the ground, tree branches nosedive down like crashed airplanes, and flowers are shredded apart like brittle paper. It is like when the hatch of a truck’s cargo bed opens on the highway, everything crashing yet the front seat is all calm. All is calm besides the paused fist inches from your nose.
Jade’s leather gloves. The ridges where leather sits to make the indents and folds of his knuckles. You are not graced much time to analyze the sight, to analyze the fist that most certainly would have broken your nose into a bloody pulp.
Deliberately, Jade straightens out. A lot of momentum had been used when rushing towards you, aiming his gloved fist like a tracking missile. Unraveling himself from his crouching position slowly, his dual-colored eyes fix you with an intrigued look. He withdraws his fist to rest by his side. “Hm.”
Now that everything is tranquil, you realize how ragged your breath is as you question back, “Hm?”
“The spell did not have you jump out of the way when I went to attack you. Perhaps it could not differentiate between all the foliage around and a person.” The same hand, that would have swirled up all your nasal tendons and bones into some crude red salad, moves to rest quizzically under his chin.
Chest pounding, you spit out, “I don’t get it.”
A diagram blooms by the left side of Jade’s head. Despite your words not being an invitation to explain, he does deliberately like you are some foolish student. Like you are someone stupid. He is probably using some elementary magic too, two figures, one red and one blue, appearing from the simple spell. “It is quite simple,” he says slowly.
Asshat, you think.
“Since your botched potion has increased your sense of danger, I decided to test what kind of variables would get a reaction from you.” On the diagram, the red figure has wormlike lines squirming out of its head.
“I threw a wide variety at you: clumps of dirt, mushrooms, tree branches to whole trees, even the smallest flowers you would dodge.” In the hand of the blue figure, a gold ring has surrounded his fist and crude drawings of all that Jade listed start to throw themselves at the red figure. Wildly panicked, the red figure hops and twirls around to avoid everything. “However,” Jade continues, a frown forming.
“When I added myself to the mix,” the blue figure suddenly appears in front of the red figure, posed like a superhero about to punch through an impenetrable wall, as all the crude drawings of rocks and trees clatter to the diagram’s ground, “I anticipated the usual reaction,” the red figure finds itself in comatose, “the reaction changed though. You didn’t move. In fact, you stood there almost confidently.”
By now, you finally manage to get your breathing under control. With your first solid breath, the diagram of magic starts to flicker into nothing. Crossing vexed arms, you hypothesize aloud, “Perhaps it has already worn off.”
Electricity sparks harshly on your nape; a sudden thought forms. Move your head right now, your bones and flesh say in unison. Involuntary, your neck tilts until your left cheek collides with your shoulder. A whooshing sound darts past your ear. You watch stunned as the bullet-esque rock Jade controls with magic buries itself into a nearby tree. As if it was fired from an assault rifle!
“An incorrect assumption; you are still responding so we’ll rule that thought out.”
The adrenaline that keeps you docile, almost sedated like a syringe-given drug, slowly drains from your body. Your typical attitude resurfaces and – “You –!” A skirmish between shock and anger pulls your face into a constipated look. “You could have killed me! What if that went through my head!”
“Please,” he tuts with pretend exasperation, thoroughly amused at your reaction. “I’m a capable mage who has mastered many tricks. Losing control on something as tiny as a pebble is never going to happen. Besides, I am to not harm you or risk losing my entertainment.”
Like you would believe that. Which you tell him, stomping your foot and pointing an acute nail at him, “Like I have any reason to believe a grand lie like that! I think you’d laugh over my injured body if you got the chance. You know what, Jade? Deal off! I’m not going to be used like a lab rat.”
Having said your piece, you whirl on your feet. There is a lot of debris and a fallen tree or two … no more accurately ripped and thrown tree or two you will need to climb over, but you are going back to Ramshackle. Tucked in a safe bed, letting this potion shed from your system, that is where you are going to. If only your wrist was not grabbed.
Shouldn’t I have yanked my wrist away before he could touch me, you think, glancing up from the point of contact into a pair of deplorable eyes. Who the hell does he think he is, batting you with sharpened paws as you squeak and scurry back and forth in a rodent panic.
The cat keeps his teeth hidden as he says, “Now, let’s not be so rash. After such a strenuous exercise, the natural course of action is to stop and replenish yourself; not exert yourself more by taking a long, long walk back to the school. I’ll prepare something for us.”
You yank your wrist back. “No way – what you want me to eat those mushrooms; help you identify which one is poisonous or not? You’re sadistic.”
“I have been called worse. However, must I remind you what you stand to lose if you call off our contract?” Your feet pause in their retreat but you dare not turn around. “It would be most unfortunate if this ends so early too.”
Part of you imagines how his face splits into a grin like those shapeshifters in old horror movies, splitting a jagged line across his features; perhaps he even tilts his head seductively to the side so the sunlight catches his enamels in a perfect way; you know from tone alone his smile must be the cat who got the cream.
Which is why when you turn around, you keep your eyes focused on his knees – trying to avoid looking at the thigh straps of his outfit. You almost feel a bit patronized when Jade says, “If anything happens to be poisonous, I had some Ipecac medicine on me.”
You try your best to not look so sad and slouched when you follow Jade.
From the impromptu clearing where trees were ripped up, or perhaps it was all planned down to last detail even this intentional clearing, Jade unloads his backpack. He sets down this small, portable grill table, unfolding the legs to stand upright. Miniature chairs for two with a pine green and sea green triangle patterns are propped upright. Exceptional care is taken when he removes his blue jacket and white hoodie, leaving himself in a black turtleneck.
Just how strong is the guy, you wonder, watching him pull out of this out of a seemingly bottomless backpack. It is only when the hoodie is gone that you get the answer. The sharp curvatures of his biceps are visible because the turtleneck is so tight. A hormonal part of you squeaks in fear like a mouse.
You busy yourself with poking the fire Jade has started in the grill’s belly-like canopy. Whatever chunks of logs were thrown at you now stir under your ministries, distracting yourself from the man of the hour. As you prod with your lone stick, Jade starts to prepare your shared meal.
“So, why do you think it happened?”
“Hm?” Jade looks up from the kebab stick in his hand.
“Why do you think I didn’t move when you went to punch me?”
“Ah,” Jade adds another mushroom to his equally odious, fungi version of Vlad Tepes’s impalment displays, “I have several running theories. Though I most strongly attribute it to confusion.”
“I quite understand what a fist in my face means.”
Jade laughs. “I’m glad but rather I am hypothesizing that it was confusion over me, the flesh I’m in.”
“That makes no sense; I definitely react to people. I reacted to Floyd, and you and him are cut from the cloth.”
“Yes, however there were many variables in the air. As a result, the possibility that the potion saw me as an outlier is not so far-fetched. You were so focused on all the soil and rocks; thus, you ignored me.”
“But the potion reacts to impending danger or whatever is trying to harm me. And I totally see you as a danger.”
“How kind of you.”
“Ugh!” You push the logs more aggressively and fire pops in bigger bursts.
“You reacted to Floyd just fine. When the talking portrait fell, you side-stepped. However, these were all separate instances and not together.”
You consider this, face scrunching. Jade does have brilliant deductive skills; now contemplating it, it is not so far-fetched like he said. Perhaps the potion can only react to living things and similarly only react to non-living things. Yet when Jade grabbed your wrist … you start to ponder on that … but your thoughts disintegrate when Jade starts to fill the grill-plate with his mushroom kebabs.
“I’m not eating those.” Your face keeps that scrunched up expression.
“While not equal to red meat, mushrooms still are a good source of protein. Truly, after your little squabble with nature, I think you might find you quite enjoy these.”
“Not a chance in Hell. They don’t look appetizing at all.”
“Have you ever had them before?”
“No but —.”
“How will you know you don’t like them if you never try them?”
How annoying; Jade sounds like every adult you ever met in your life. Really, you are fixated on wearing this scrunched look like a model with the latest trends. Nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, you look down at the arrangement of your presumed next meal. “I’m just a picky eater. You don’t have a sandwich in that bag of yours?”
“Afraid not,” Jade apologizes without an apologetic expression. “I find relying on nature to remind me of home; a hunt is a hunt no matter whether below or above.”
“So you must have some berries on you or something,” you deduct, trying to find yourself an out.
“Afraid not.” Again, this is said very unapologetically. “Though you are most welcome to wrangle yourself a worm out of the ground. Maybe that potion will help you locate a squirrel that you can overpower.”
“You’re lucky you don’t have this potion on you, or else you could sense my foot’s about to hit your crotch.”
“So violent,” Jade smiles behind the fist which curls up to his mouth, “Please, I implore you: try.” Now he is just teasing you instead of being malicious.
You punch the side of his thigh then go back to observing. There is a decent char on each mushroom now that is more a golden brown than a deep caramel brown.
“You know, if you brine and deep-fry gray oyster mushrooms, they take on the texture of fried chicken. The taste is similar enough when a simple illusion spell can get the pickiest eater to try them.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Your spine pricks with that familiar, forbidding sense.
“Oh no, you misunderstand.”
Jade says before he starts leaning in to regale you with a story of how he managed to trick Azul their freshmen year to eat mushrooms for five months straight. Azul’s comfort food almost ruined evermore. It is odd to see such a mélange of fondness and sadism on a person’s face but Jade wears it well.
Eventually, you are graced with other food: grapes that Jade has in his backpack. Apparently there are some ducks a little ways down the hiking trail that Jade feeds. They aren’t the type to hibernate or fly south for the winter, the Twisted Wonderland version of mallards. Excited, you implore him to show you them as it is only right after tormenting you so, paying you back for the maltreatment.
He says you need to raise your price for torment or else the entire school will abuse you, but he takes you to the ducks all the same.
III. The measurement for Eastern bat’s blood was off by 1.5 ounces.
“Usually when you hold out a hand, there is something in it to offer up,” Jade says analytically. In front of him, your right hand is outstretched.
This world really is out to get you. Not only are you fumbling along in a university that requires a knowledge of foreign, elementary knowledge and has an entrance exam people only pass with Willy-Wonka-ticket luck, but the units of measurements are completely alien to you. Incorrectly, you drained your Eastern bat for half a second too short. Blame can always be pinned on Ace just shrugging when you showed him the beaker; Jade probably will tut and tell you to uphold responsibility.
So, facing him now empty-handed, you say sullenly, “I messed up a potion.” You try your best to ignore the absolute glee that overtake Jade’s features. “You … The effects when … Well, just take off your glove, touch my hand, and you’ll see.”
Today is going to suck majorly. Part of you cannot comprehend what odious, monstrous things Jade Leech will do with. Your foresight with him really needs improving; Octavinelle’s vice-housewarden is an enigmatic mystery to you. When flesh mets flesh, the touch of it stings you like a jellyfish.
His hand is nicely manicured you observe. Just an appropriate enough free edge of the nail to be unamusing yet secretively sharp if need be. His nails won’t cut you up into ribbons without speed and force. It is also a cold hand that feels like resting your cheek on silk when feverish.
Must be because he is cold-blooded and winter is still being stubborn. Taking a deep breath, you look at Jade who is looking intently at you with intrigue. “Was this just an excuse to hold my hand? How quaint, Prefect,” Jade teases when nothing extraordinary eye-catching happens.
Shouldn’t he know to observe the subtleties? You decide to embarrass yourself further by answering, “Just be patient and observe.” Then, hands still stacked upon one another, you turn a bit towards the open hallway you had stopped Jade in.
As the nominated test subject, you had drank the potion when Crewel instructed you to in potionology. Nothing happened and you were given an F. Then, humiliated in front of the class, you realized later that the potion’s intended effects were skewed slightly.
It had taken a lot of trial and error to realize the effects of the potion when first infected. Upset at Ace for not thoroughly reading the measurements, you had taken him by the shoulders and shaked him. In retaliation, he took your cheeks and squished them together to cut off your bemoans. You pinched his cheek in retaliation and then Grim suddenly caterwauled that you two had … disappeared?
Like you said, it took a lot of trial and error. You experimented with Grim, Deuce, and Ace outside the hallway in the main yard. Seeing if it worked skin to fur, seeing if the effects lasted after a quick high five, and figuring out it took a constant touch between two to work but did not work on a third touch.
Now, you have to explain to Jade that both of you are under an invisibility potion that is skewed. So you demonstrate by reaching out and slapping the nearest student across the face. It takes you a while to sum up the courage, the crowd swimming past you. Jade almost grows impatient and tries to retract his hand. Yet at the moment, you remember Schönheit’s face. It feels so satisfactory after being pushed around all the fucking time (especially during VDC) to watch the Pomefiore student stumble in shock. Your hand stings pleasantly.
Jade flinches in surprise and you quickly squeeze his hand tight. Having the contact break after striking a random student is not ideal.
Background Pomefiore student – you decide his name is C – holds his flushing cheek and whirls around, head on a swivel. He finds no culprit. “Hey! … did you just – Um … Who did,” C’s hair shakes back and forth with his frenzied head turn, “Someone … Someone just hit my beautiful face!”
Behind you, watching C with you, Jade starts to chuckle. The knuckle of his left hand comes up to his lips as he fruitlessly tries to cork laughter. Then, inhibition escaping him, he is suddenly laughing like an amused teen instead of some super villain. His shoulders bounce in time with his mirth.
“I see,” he says a bit breathlessly after his laughing fit. “We are under a potion of invisibility.” His eyes track the Pomefiore student. “A potent one too if that student was not able to even sense us.”
C has already left so you release Jade’s hand slightly, still keeping them sandwiched on one another. “Exactly. Unfortunately, it only works with skin to skin contact. We were supposed to brew something that turned a person invisible but this one requires a second body.”
For a moment, Jade’s eyes burn with a dangerous intrigue. Dread fills you like a river. Part of you surmises that you will not be able to predict what malicious actions he will have the two of you perform to terrorize the entire school. As if wanting to pry your ribcage open, Jade repeats your explanation to make sure he has all the available information, “So no one can see us or hear us as long as we touch?”
You shrink away at the dangerous lilt in his voice, so Jade takes to interlocking your fingers together. “Yeah, that’s the basics of this potion.” You look at your interlocked fingers as if they are a threading nest of rattlesnakes instead of fingers embracing.
“How quaint. Typically invisibility potions and spells are traceable through the wisps of magic they leave behind. Perhaps that side-effect is neutralized because you are magicless.”
“Maybe … I don’t really know.”
“Hm,” Jade studies your desolate look. “Let us be on our way then.”
“Wait!” You dig your heels into the ground. “Where are we even going?”
“To my dormitory. I need to retrieve some supplies before we utilize this potion’s potential.”
“Wait!” You dig your heels into the ground. “Why can’t we just interlock elbows!”
Finally, that seems to reel Jade out of his steadyfast mission to bring you to some second location. Gold and umber eyes glance down to your intertwined fingers. The bridge of repeating Zs which the heat from you and him met together. His hold is not so outrageously tight where you have no choice to stay.
“It would be most unfortunate if you were to slip and lose your grip. With a tighter hold like this,” he readjusts your contact to passive hand holding, your fingers unlocking from one another, “I’m assured that we will not break contact.”
“I guess that makes sense.” You … mourn? that you no longer get to hold his fingers equally in yours. But you asked for interlocking elbows. You grimace. “... Hey! Why do you say that like I’d trip! You could trip too.”
“With all the trouble you stumble into, it would be imprudent of me to not prepare for you falling in the literal sense. Do not worry though; I will be there to catch you.”
“Who says I want you to catch me? Hell, I think you’d catch me, only to fake out, and then drop me a second later.”
“Fufufu, I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“Ugh, don’t smile like that.”
So, doubly regretful and relieved that your hand-holding formation got a new look, you allow yourself to be dragged off to Octavinelle. This you could probably achieve without hand-holding but you like the secrecy. Plus, you got to flip off Riddle Rosehearts and Leona Kingscholar without repercussions. Eventually, Jade steers you towards the bedrooms located in Octavinelle. Wholly relying on him, you give him a withered olive branch of trust to not torment or abuse you too much.
“Do you share a room with someone,” you ask as Jade lets go of your hand. The door to his dorm is closed currently, so secrecy lives on. Your eyes are glued to the opposite side that Jade did not walk towards.
“My brother and I signed up for a double dormitory in middle school.”
“Makes sense,” you say. Sheets scrunched up, shoes and crumbs peppered all over the place, and a horrible sense of cleanliness? You doubt Jade would put up with this from another else but his brother.
Attention drifting, you turn and watch Jade shift through a thick binder on his desk. He takes it from this apparatus of gold that sits on his neat desk. Teal with golden edges, it is one of three heavy binders. Seriously, the thing is at least a good eight inches thick with papers. “What’s that?”
The smile on Jade’s face tells you that is either going to regale or inform you about something sinister. Each sharp, serrated edge gleams like secrets spoken under candlelight. Though gloveless, his hand still perches under his chin. That tunnel of fangs opens. “Simply some information I have had to collect for Azul. It dates all the way back from our first year, down to Orientation Day. Would you like to see?”
Curiosity kills the cat; too bad you are more like the lab rat. Your eyes drawn down to the now open binder thoroughly intrigued. “Wouldn’t Azul be pissy at you for showing someone such valuable information?”
“Perhaps. But, I thought you disliked each housewarden with a vengeance.” Seeing you are still unconvinced, Jade assuages your worry, “All this information I have collected painstakingly by myself. It is under my jurisdiction who I choose to share it with.”
“And that just happens to be me,” you ask, anticipating some catch. Still, you shuffle over to the desk quite eagerly. “What do you get out of showing me this?”
“Just the pleasure of seeing you squirm.”
“Ha. Ha.” You laugh dryly. Electing to ignore that little comment, you turn your attention towards the binder’s pages.
Painstakingly proves to be an appropriate way to describe how detailed the pages are. Reports upon reports of different students stare at you, even with photographic identity in the top corners. It looks more like a report on prisoners than something a student has made. As you flip through, you do spy dates from last year. The margin of notes detail a number of things: past deals made with Azul Ashengrotto, a list of allergies, schedules of classes for each individual student, and a few have their Unique Magics column filled (which you have been told most mages keep those specific spells very private). Some students even have a column labeled Weaknesses on them.
“God, this is,” you say awestruck. You flip through some more. In alphabetical order, Bucchi, Clover, and Diamond are the ones you recognize first. You wonder if at the beginning there is a section detailing Al-Asim too. The absolute punctiliousness of Jade has some students taking up ten to fifteen pages. “This is –”
“Terrifying?” Jade incorrectly supplies the word.
Attention finally broken from the binder, you look up at Jade who is leaning into you slightly. There is an unreadable iota of something in his eyes. Was he hoping to scare you away? “No, not at all.”
“You’re not off put?”
“I’m more impressed by it. I mean, I know how Night Raven College is now. Trust me; been pushed around since day one by students and the classes. This … This is what you have to do to survive here.” You overlooked the page you are on, some random Ignihyde student with a D surname. “I don't, however, think sunlight is an allergy.”
“Trust me,” Jade takes your hand, “for students of that dorm, you would be convinced otherwise.”
“So, what are you going to do with this?”
“We are going to be adding to it.”
So, that is how you and Jade spend your day. Trekking through the hallways of Night Raven College and sometimes even walking unnoticed through certain dorms, you both collect information on students. Filling in the blanks in Jade’s sheets and dating new, unexpected information that you happen to stumble upon.
It is fairly entertaining. Yours and Jade’s preferences towards entertainment are obviously different, but … this is fun. Jade keeps it fun. Initially, you thought intel gathering would be dull and tedious like bird watching, bidding time for a certain student to let something slip. Somehow, you find yourself stifling chuckles that no one could have heard anyways.
This impromptu espionage is much better than how you would have originally spent your afternoon. Leaning into Jade (just to make certain you stay physically touching) you joke about all the embarrassing scenes you two stumble upon. Night Raven College students really are magnets for trouble. You are pleasantly shocked when Jade, smiling with all his predator teeth, suggests you go up to a student and give them a wet-willy.
You never knew Jade could be this fun to hang out with!
You understand that Twisted Wonderland is an eat or be eaten world. And, as Floyd calls you, you are a shrimp. A shrimp with a drizzle of cajun sauce and seasoned with red pepper flakes to be the most appetizing for: picking on, abusing, and just overall suffering from overblots, potions, and plain old magic. It feels nice to regain a bit of power. To see that even mages have weaknesses is a nice balm to your endless ache. To laugh at their misfortune for once.
For the first time in a while, you do not feel that weight of being a failure. That everlasting pressure of having the lowest marks lightens. With an eel at your side, you find yourself a bit elevated on the food chain with certain privileges.
Hand in hand with Jade, you two find yourself walking down a corridor. You have taken to holding a few of your own notes in your non-dominant hand. In front of Jade, his binder is hoisted by a levitation spell as his pen works on writing the information he finds useful.
The binder is under an invisibility spell; so are your notes. However, this kind of magic leaves a trace of smell that high-ranking mages and beastmen are privy to. Magicless as you are, you do not notice a shift of fragrance in the air but you take Jade’s words at their face value.
His levitating pen has been consistently moving across pages. Even when Jade turns to you, smiling widely and joking about today’s events, his pen keeps moving like a restless shark. So, you are wholeheartedly caught off guard for Jade to suddenly halt in his steps. The pen dots its punctuation then hovers still as death in the air. “Jade?”
“Shush,” Jade snips. You almost have half the mind to remind him that no one can hear you under the botched potion. Instead, you turn your attention towards what has stolen the smile off Jade’s face and grabbed his attention so thoroughly.
An Octavinelle student happens to be walking out of a classroom. He has blonde hair swept messily like a tumbleweed and that recognizable armband on his biceps. No one you recognize though. Someone Jade must know, given how intensely he is staring. Before you know it, the binder has been magically closed.
“(Name).” You turn when he calls your name. “May I suggest a little detour? Won’t take longer than a minute.”
“Uh yeah,” you nod dumbly. “Sure.”
So, where the Octavinelle student exits, you and Jade enter. No one notices you entering as is the new normal. It seems to be an after school project group. A few students have pushed two laboratory tables together and are in the middle of writing notes. Jade makes a bee-line for the table which worries you – having been content with hiding in backgrounds and shadows with him.
On the table, there is a coffee thermos right where the only empty seat is. None of the mages are alert enough to notice Jade unscrewing the thermos’s top. You are acutely aware of each move Jade makes though. Paralyzed, you observe like a student watching their scientist experiment combusting. It feels very similar to watching a burning train-wreck, enough to make your jaw drop.
In the pocket of your stunned silence, Jade delicately tucks the black strand of hair behind his ear. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down thrice; a deep phlegmy sound vibrates out his throat. When Jade (out of all the students in Night Raven College!!) hacks up an impressively huge, light yellow spitwad which falls out of his puckered lips into the awaiting cup of coffee.
When he straightens up to you, black hair split behind his ear and framing his cheek, he smiles with the satisfaction of a job well done. “That is all I needed to do. We may carry on; I believe jurisdiction of our next rendezvous falls upon you.”
You get to pick the next student you two humiliate or gather notes on … you know this, it computes in your brain, but … you gape at Jade with a wide mouth, “Who are you and what the fuck have you done with Jade?”
Because gathering information on students and maliciously keeping them in a binder? You can imagine Jade doing such a thing. Taking the opportunities that this botched potion has given him and causing a bit of mischief with you? Well, that is what you are doing right now so it is very easy to imagine. Jade spitting into a student’s drink as a form of revenge or entertainment? Even after seeing it with your own eyes, you cannot fully believe it.
“I assure you, I have not undergone any body-swapping potion at this time.”
“I just – Dude. Dude,” you huff out a laugh. “That was –” Then, suddenly, you are laughing uncontrollably. It is really an advantage that this potion makes you invisible to the ears too. “Hahahaha!! Oh my – hahaha!!”
It surprises you a second time when Jade joins in. “Fufufu … heh … Hahahaha!”
In the afterglow of shared laughter, you and Jade look at each other. His eyes are sharp like his teeth. There is a sensation in the air; you can only akin it to walking on a balancing beam and being brave enough to walk across the soft foam for the first time. Like you are trying something new, here with him.
“I just can’t believe you would do that. You of all people.” Your eyes linger hard on the thermos.
“I do admit it is a bit juvenile of me. Typically, Floyd spits in drinks while I add a certain fungal toxin. This was a bit more personal.”
“Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Yet, you have a smile glued to your face. As does Jade. The hand holding does not help with your growing fluster.
Yet before Jade can respond, the door to the classroom is thrown open. The Octavinelle student comes stomping in with a vengeance. Irritation on his face and phone in his hand, he howls, “Fuck Azul Ashengrotto!” You happen to share this sentiment wholeheartedly. “I swear, I cannot even piss without him needing to know! Why did I get saddled with the worst housewarden!”
One of Azul’s contractees, you think just as a student from the table pipes up, “What does he need from you this time?”
“Ugh,” the Octavinelle student groans. He sits down in the empty stoll with a thud; his arm comes up to rest on the table but he does not grab the thermos. “‘Parrantely, our vice called out for his night shift. So, Azul has to schedule three guys just to replace one.”
The Octavinelle student takes a big sip of his coffee. You watch the smile grow on Jade’s face, teeth gleaming. As he sets down the thermos, he continues complaining, “It’s so unfair. I have to drop everything I’m doing just at the drop of a hat for this bitching guy, or else ‘there will be repercussions for breaking contract terms’. What bullshit.”
“Didn’t you break your terms last week,” a Heartslabyul student questions.
“Yeah, when you skipped your shift to go Foothill Town for the weekend,” another Octavinelle student, different from the blonde, pipes in.
“Yeah, I was supposed to taste-test some potion for our vice. Told them I had a family birthday to go to; he won’t find out.”
“I already found out,” Jade leans in and whispers, his breath warm on your neck. He gives a discreet little point towards the thermos. You stifle a chuckle behind your papers. As Jade pulls away, he looks awfully pleased.
“I mean,” the blonde Octavinelle student continues, “the guy’s a total creep! Who knows what would have happened if I drank that potion; would’ve seen me walking around with a third arm or gills. My housewarden and vice are two peas in a pod: complete and utter monsters.”
Laughter blooms up from the table in agreement. Features wilting, you cannot find yourself agreeing with the student’s sentiment. Sure, you can see that description fitting Ashengrotto for how utterly horrendous and repulsive he was during his overblot. But Jade? Well, he is not innocent-incarnate but a monster is a bit much.
If Jade overblotted, would I share that sentiment? No, I don’t think so. You do not get to entertain that thought further as the Octavinelle student, who is not blonde, pipes up in agreement, “At least Azul has some humanity about him … Jade?” The student fakes a shiver. “Wouldn’t be caught dead alone with him.”
Eagerly finishing off his second sip, the blonde Octavinelle student jumps to add his input, “Have you seen how he looks smiling – it’s like a rabid animal trying to appear less rabid. If you’re going to undergo a transformation potion, at least have it do the job.”
“He’s only got himself to blame for having zero friends, looking like that.”
The hand in yours suddenly squeezes at those words. Concerned, your gaze flickers up to Jade. For a foolish second, you really are expecting his face to pull into that familiar grin of shark daggers. Prideful that his reputation is kept so neatly and undamaged.
A scowl is not what you are expecting to see. His nose and upper lip twitch like he is pushing whatever is bubbling to the surface of him back down. Just as quickly as the twitch happens, it goes. A firm lid now placed over Jade’s expression, he turns demure to you and politely says, “Shall we take our leave?”
You can only nod along, confused over the whole ordeal.
You and Jade have this thing going on – no, it is not the potion contract; it is actually something that happens specifically outside of contractual hours. You both have started to smile at one another when spying the other walking down the hallway. To be honest, Jade smiles, you mostly stick your tongue out at him or throw him a peace sign depending on your mood.
The thing is Jade’s grin has always been big, revealing all his predatory teeth and causing wrinkles to form under his eyes. The next time around, passing by one another near the gymnasium, Jade smiles. He smiles tight-lipped, some subdued version of himself.
IV. No mistakes were in the mixture, but it had been splashed on you all the same.
“Grim!” You caterwaul as two bottles of salamander eyes fall into your cauldron.
Ace has been teasing Grim for the better half of this assignment. Something about your low stash of food or something else because really, anything about you two is fuel for teasing. The verbal sparring mattered little to you as you were managing to get this potion right for once! At least, it mattered little until Grim decided to hop over the desk attached to your cauldron.
Down, those two bottles drop into the cauldron with an expressive ploop!; liquid hits you in the backsplash. All you can think about at that moment is what you are going to owe Professor Crewel. You refuse to be scavenging the mountains for salamanders to pluck the eyes out of.
Furious and with canary yellow droplets rolling down your face, you reach across the top of the cauldron. Your fingers hook into Grim’s collar, pulling him towards you as the fireball he was going to strike Ace with evaporates on his tongue.
“Myah!”
“You little –”
“What’s your problem, Henchman!”
“My problem is that you just messed up the first potion we’ve ever done correctly in this class! How could you be so careless! Do you have any idea what it took to pull my weight and make that without a mistake!”
When Grim refutes that Ace called his legs stubby, you swear you could almost combust into flames like the King of the Underworld. It would be a fitting reaction. Yet, all you can do is shout, “Your legs are stubby! You’re short! God, your height being teased should not cause you ruin a perfectly made potion. We are a team; this comes out of your grade too you know! Seriously Grim, I can’t –” And then, you cannot even shout anymore in reaction.
I can’t breathe, you realize with wide-eyed panic just before your legs give out beneath you. “Henchman!” You manage to safely deposit Grim on the ground in midst of your rough fall. However, it does not curb your impending face-plant away.
Why can’t I breathe, you think. You try desperately to will yourself to breathe automatically through your nose or mouth, eagerly willing to take up the torch for your stressed brain. Nothing. Instinctively, your hand flies up to your throat. Under your fingertips, serrations that open in twelve inch wide cuts brush against your hand. You feel rubbery bristles and sleek skin not wet from blood.
Huh? You do not get to ask about it as a spell suddenly lifts you off the ground. Second later, you are dumped inside an empty cauldron Deuce has summoned in the midst of discord and you are dampened by the raincloud Professor Crewel has summoned over your head.
Fresh air, you think while breathing in water. You are knocked out momentary reprise, your new found respect for life after being able to breathe again, when voices suddenly start shouting.
“(Name), are you okay!”
Over your right shoulder, your vision is swallowed by Deuce’s frantic expression. Half of his goggles are pulled up to his forehead but the left side still suctions to his skin, extending up his eyebrow unnaturally. Quizzically frantic, his eyes race over your body.
“I’m fine now, I think –”
“Bad dogs!” You do not finish the sentence. Professor Crewel uses some sort of spell and you watch vindictive as Ace’s and Grim’s heads are pulled together by harsh magnetism. They fall to a heap like knocked over bowling pins. “This is a laboratory! Not a playground! To be standing on desks like that is completely unacceptable!”
“Grim was the one jumping around; he ended up knocking over everything!” Ace jabs a finger in the direction of the dizzy dire-beast.
“He called me stubby! No one insults the Great Grim and gets away with it!” Grim aims a tiny, blue flame in the direction of the Heartslabyul student. A tiny one is only a forewarning of more to follow.
“Enough the both of you! Your absolute foolishness lead to —
“Ow,” you cry, pained. You had only meant to join in on scolding Grim, not interrupt in such a piercing fashion. Wincing, your dominant hand flies up to your mouth. Strings of metallic red connect your finger to your lip, and you wonder what you are going to do now as the rain washes away the red.
Because that potion you were brewing correctly … “You dogs and your insolence led to one of your classmates becoming a merfolk.” … was a mermaid transportation potion.
Now that panic has dwindled away, you suppose it makes sense your momentary lapse of breath. The rain cloud slowly dissipates over your head. With the water in the cauldron reaching the top, there is no more reason to keep it raining indoors. You take the opportunity to survey the damage of another disastrous potion accident.
The complexion of your tail is a mixture of olive gray with yellow undertones. Truly, you are not sure how to describe the texture of the canvas besides resembling a stingray or perhaps a shark. Your tail breaks off into the shape of an uneven boomerang. Against the rough cauldron’s innards, you definitely feel a dorsal fin scraping on the cast iron.
The crowns of your teeth have elongated into sharp points which is why you keep your jaw hanging open. You are not going to risk biting off your tongue, unaware that magic could repair it.
“Henchman, you have teeth just like me!”
Oh, you love Grim dearly like an annoying little brother, but you yearn for nothing more than to bite him hard. Painful enough where he learns his lesson. Your lips pull up into a smile when Professor Crewel hits him on the head. Then, you drop your open maw into a crude caricature of a frown when Crewel turns around. You don’t want him to misread your smile; you promise you are not finding this situation funny.
Because, to you, this is the worst. Your legs – your tail – no, your legs feel disgusting. So conditioned to have two separate legs, the innard combination of muscles and bones melting together causes a shiver up your back. Absent of piggy-toes to wiggle, lower limb bones suddenly hollowed out of you, fat and epidermis shifted into something supernatural. Get me out of this body!
Your pyramiding nausea must be shown on your expression; Professor Crewel gives you a sympathetic look for someone you thought so apathetic. He surveys you before saying, “It will take until after school for me to have the reversal potion brewed. Even then, I cannot keep you in the laboratory.
“Usually, I would pin the responsibility on you two mutts,” he sends a glare at Grim and Ace, “but then I would risk endangering the Prefect further. Perfect.” You grow more very nauseous because you know where this is going. “I think it would be ideal if you stay in Octavinelle for the time being.”
You must be an edible species of mermaid right? Maybe, with enough begging, you could convince Deuce or Grim to set a fire underneath the impromptu aquarium tank you sit in. “Ashengrotto can escort you. My 2C class is next period.”
You can’t even drown yourself; a whimper breaks your lips. In a kiss that is more a punch, your forehead and the side of the cauldron met like two angry lovers. “Just cook and eat me,” you moan sullenly.
“Yay, sushi!”
“Grim!!” Deuce shouts, mortified.
When Azul does come in next period, five minutes before the bell like the attentive student he is, you glare at him over the side of your cauldron. It takes all but seconds before his stunned expression to melt into that sinister, scheming smirk. He really is such a snake even after his overblot. You would normally say this little favor is going to cost you an arm and a leg, but you already lost two legs. No way are you parting with an arm.
“My, it seems you have gotten yourself into an unfortunately tight spot, Prefect. I’ll be happy to write up a contract that alleviates you from this certain predicament.”
Now, it takes luck and hard coordination, but you manage to splash Azul just as he finishes his sentence. It feels like stretching out a knot in your leg when you use your tail to propel water out of your cauldron.
As Azul simmers in shock, you snicker in satisfaction. Serves him right.
Soon enough, you are brought to Octavinelle. Hypothetically, it would take Azul two days to finish a reversal potion, which is better than most students who would need five days. But since Professor Crewel is working to ‘alleviate you from this certain predicament’, there is no need for a contract. Thus, the housewarden carries your cauldron through the school with magic.
There are so many questions running through your head that you and Azul remain silent during the trip to the Hall of Mirrors. Are you going to get dumped outside in Octavinelle’s waters to fend for yourself, or are you going to be thrown into the pool left to starve? What can you even eat in this form? It is already so hard to talk with the fangs in your mouth. Blood stains your lips like lipstick. You are deathly afraid of biting off your own tongue.
This is the worst potion accident I’ve ever had, you sulk, chin on the edge of stone. You want an easy life like everyone else but destiny has deemed you a magnetic force for chaos. Like there is something sweet in your blood or on your skin that attracts misfortune to you.
No one else in your first year class had experienced either a multitude of potion mishaps or a multitude of overblotted students. There has to be something in you that causes misfortune to suction to you with eagerness.
It is only when Azul speaks, carrying you through the Hall of Mirrors, do you stop your petite mopeness session. “Now, Octavinelle’s pool is never emptied so it will take some time to arrange it to be closed for the day. As a housewarden, it won’t take more than an hour. In the meantime, you are going to have to swim outside the dorm.”
“You can’t just keep me in the cauldron? I figured you shove me in some broom closet.”
“Now, do you really think I'm so cruel?”
“I do.”
A scowl moves Azul’s lips. As he carts your cauldron through the mirror, violet sparks shimmering on the bottom like bugs drawn to a bowl of overripe fruit, he smiles cruelly, “Well, I’m glad to prove your expectations right.” Then, without any care, he vindictively dumps you out of the cauldron and into the mirror’s tensile surface.
“Asshat!” You manage to shout breathlessly before you find yourself on the other side of Octavinelle’s mirror.
The pressure of water is unfortunately reliving to the pressure of suffocation on your chest. In the cauldron, you felt mildly asthmatic. It is certainly easier to breathe now. Which you do, you take a deep breath and then into nebulous waters, you shout out your frustrations. “ugh … UUUGH! AAAAAGH!!” Left alone in the blue, you sink down and down like a stone with each of your thoughts.
Hollowed out the bones in your lower limbs and trapped in skin made of dermal denticles, you eventually force yourself to learn to walk.
It takes a great deal of try and fail, rinsing and repeating the process. Stubbornly, you refuse to just lie at the bottom of Octavinelle’s water to die and join a whale’s skeleton … or just wait until Azul comes to retrieve you, fake sympathy on his tongue … the mere notion of the latter causes your teeth to grind.
Thankfully, the waters are empty of any merfolk. A dagger named Embarrassment would have punctured your heart if otherwise. Having your multiple face-plants into sand and multiple collisions with reefs being seen by a single spectator makes you grimace. Eventually, you learn to use the yellowish-gray tail with the dexterity found in a squirmy newborn.
An average person would have taken longer than an hour to learn the motions. You take to it like a duck to water. Impressively, it takes you only twenty-five minutes. Of course, you are arrogant of this fact. Limbs bruised from the rocks you have crashed into and mouth salted with the sand you accidentally swallowed, you sulk. Terribly miserable at the bottom of the sea, thinking yourself the biggest fool in Twisted Wonderland, you sulk at your falsely perceived failures but keep at it.
Moving with a tail mimics the sensation of sprinting. It is a constant motion that you must fall into smoothly. Once you start, you cannot risk a slight falter because that will send you barreling back to the ground. You must be confident about your motions.
Tail oscillating back and forth, you push yourself off the seafloor for hopefully your last time. You wade gently off the seafloor like a bumpy airplane hopping off the runway. And then finally something happens in your abdomen and in your legs. Finally! Finally, you manage to find your rhythm.
As if pulled there by an invisible thread, you find yourself swimming over to Octavinelle. Unconfident about your agility, you keep to the eastern side of the dorm, away from the towering spirals that look like a homunculus birth between a crab hand and an octopus, and you keep yourself away from the main building, wary of what could happen if you interact with other students.
You wrap yourself around stone structures shaped like pointy fish-heads. Glide up the natural pattern of stairs made of the seabed floor, testing your ability to elevate yourself. Brush your hand briefly over a certain gray stone shaped oddly like a circle head with two circular ears, reminding yourself of that mouse creature you saw in the mirror days ago. Then, you turn yourself on your spine, belly up, and propel yourself towards the tunnel in Octavinelle with experience that grows second by second.
The ‘skies’ are filled with starfishes suctioned to the edges of purple-gray arching stone, a school of moonfish with shining silver bodies with the edges of their fins kissed by orange sunshine hues, and moon jellyfish that move hypnotically like a multiple aliens made of clouds of milky-coral intestines. How phantasmal and pretty.
Despite being in another world full of alien creatures like beastmen, mermen, and fae, at least the ocean has not changed that much. Now, impromptu and unplanned, you are thrown into the chance of a lifetime. Despite yourself, a smile grows on your lips.
Flipping yourself belly down, you glide over the tunnel system. It is a sectional hallway of Octavinelle that goes from the main building towards the dormitories. The unique faucet about the long hallway with the overarching ceiling is that the ceiling is made of glass.
You meant to swim over the glass structure but you stutter in your motions when you make eye contact with a certain someone walking down the hallway. Even when separated by a barrier, that mountain landscape of smiling fangs manages to send a shiver down your spine. Why is that asshat’s eyes half-lidded like that?
Regaining yourself, you swim fast inches above the tunnel and ignore Jade Leech who watches you fondly in Octavinelle’s aquarium hallway, a few school books in his hand. You come to regret it later because:
“You broke contract terms earlier,” is the first blasted thing out of Jade’s mouth when he enters Octavinelle’s pools just as Azul exits.
“How so,” you grumble. After his classes, Azul retrieved you from Octavinelle waters with all the grace of a dog owner picking up their mutt from a park after hours of neglect. He leashed you with a spell and dropped you into Octavinelle pools. Now, lying on your back, you glide aimlessly in water like an adrift pool-float.
Didn’t matter where you were though as you knew Jade would come find you. But – “Earlier, when we made eye contact through the tunnel, you swam away like a shy clownfish.” – seems you forgot how rigorous people in this specific dorm were about terms.
Mouth opening to defend yourself (more correctly, lie and say you did not know how to stop), a certain tantalizing scent catches your attention. Flipping yourself upright, you glance towards the edge of the pool when Jade stands on the steps, ankle deep with his pants rolled up and footwear off. In his hands are two steaming plates.
“Oh thank God, I’m starved,” you say, swimming over.
Yet Jade chuckles, “Food is for well-behaved fish who uphold their contract terms.”
“Oh God,” you groan. “Listen, I didn’t know how to stop.” A lie but you tack on, “And it’s not my fault I wasn’t with you. Azul dumped me into Octavinelle. He pushed me in there like a bird kicking her chick out of the nest.”
“Still, I would have come to retrieve you had you not darted away. Did I perhaps frighten you?”
“Jade, just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll say it. I’m starving.” You had not realized how famished your new body had grown in such a short time. Swimming is a rigorous exercise but you never thought it would hollow out your stomach so thoroughly.
“My, what an opportunistic sentence. Anything I want you to say … just like that? Sevens, which of the hundred self-deprecating phrases could I move your tongue into?” The smile he aims at you is a perfect mimic of some villainous character reveling in the downfall of a hero.
“You’re a pain in my ass, Jade. You know that? A real thorn in my side.”
“A leech on your ankle?”
“At least you’re self-aware.”
“Of course. Any self-respecting person should be able scrutinize and recognize who they are in the eyes of those on the outside looking in.”
“Then you must know I see you as a real asshole for not feeding me.”
You hold up your hand to accept the plate. At the end of this verbal maze, you will be rewarded with food. Like a mouse who is eventually given cheese after all those twists and turns. However, you do not expect his next sentence:
“You’re hurt.”
Are those the words you must repeat? “I’m hurt?”
Jade shakes his head at you. You watch in surprise as he sits on the edge of the pool, leaving his ankles in the water. You have never seen him look so casual in his dorm uniform. Sure everything is tightly buttoned and hastened in place, yet there is an air of permissiveness around him. “Your arm,” Jade clears up confusion as he sets the plates down.
When you check the appendage, Jade’s words are proven right. A mark that is sure to turn violet and black runs across your forearm. Must have happened when you were trying to learn how to swim, bumped too hard into a coral reef perhaps.
“Oh damn, that is going to ache tomorrow.” Hissing through your fangs, “Shit.”
Jade hums in consideration. “Give it here.” He gestures to your arm.
After a moment’s hesitation, you extend your forearm so it rests in Jade’s hands. You expect him to dig his nails into the area, to test what will make you wince. However, he just carefully maneuvers it in his hold, mapping out the bruise’s perimeter with his eyes. Then, he unclips his magic pen from his breast-pocket.
You rest your head on your shoulder, peering up at Jade with tired eyes. Violet light orchestrates a ballet across his feature, dipping and pirouetting on each sharp curve. It reminds you of how he fought in the violet drenched nightmare of Schoenheit’s overblot to keep you safe.
As the perimeter of your bruise shrinks, you realize something and have to force down a twitch.
Oh.
Oh!
Juxtaposingly, it seems so natural and it seems so artificial. You have feelings for Jade Leech?
‘Please, be serious’ you want to chastise yourself. However, it feels like something that has grown inside your heart naturally. However, it too feels like it was something born of blasphemous methods that would offend Mother Nature. Perhaps that is your own hesitation to admit to having a crush.
Bruise completely gone, lavender light falls away from his face. “There we go.” He looks up from your arm to your body. Seemingly, his eyes flirt about to assess whether there is any more mark from your old, faithful friend Danger you have inevitably fallen into. Does he think you are a failure? The thought makes you sick. You don’t want Jade to ever think that about you.
As you take back your arm from his lap, curling and twisting it experimentally, you thank him. He responds,“It’s no trouble at all. I uphold contract terms … unlike others.”
“Oh, climb off it.”
When you enunciate your sharp ‘t’, Jade’s eyes are magnetized down to the rows of razor daggers in your mouth. If Jade Leech could look stunned, you think this is the closest you have ever seen him do so. A subdued version of the facial expression.
“What,” you ask. “Something on my face?”
“No, no,” Jade smiles like it is nothing. He picks up the plates previously set aside. He balances each like a veteran waiter, showing you the beef wellington he has cooked for you two. It is paired with a brown sauce underneath the pastry. “I’m glad to see that my preparation was prudent to all the changes the potion did.”
“You aren’t going to change into your mer-form? Show me how to eat and swim correctly so I don’t injure myself?”
“Now, I don’t want to be too honest with you.” You simply swipe your plate, because God, an honest Jade Leech is scarier than a dishonest one.
When you head out of Ramshackle the next day, waving goodbye to the ghosts and dire-beast on your shoulder, you come to an unexpected stop on the rickety porch. “Huh, what’s that,” Grim asks as you lean down to pick up the two mysterious jars. Underneath glass, a hundred or so slimy salamander eyes peer at you. And you suddenly recall what you had bemoaned to Jade, Crewel’s going to have my head if I can’t replace his supplies.
Around the neck of each jar, a periwinkle bow has been tied with expert care. You know which dorm that color signifies. For the first in a long time, you walk the hour trek from Ramshackle to Night Raven College feeling light like a feather.
V. Lilies were selected and arrogantly substituted for asphodels.
“So, how did this come to be again,” Jade asks … just for clarification.
Even though it was Grim who grabbed the lilies, it can still be attributed as your fault. If you were in the right mind to speak, you would blame yourself. For one, you used poor judgment to trust Grim would be able to handle selecting ingredients. Secondly, when handed the lilies, you did not check if they were the shape of asphodels. In your vocal absence, Grim clarifies to Jade, “My Henchman messed up the potion!”
“You little weasel!” Adding injury to his insult, Ace whacks the back of Grim’s head.
“Ow!” Grim cries on Deuce’s shoulder. “Well, they did! Myah, it's not my fault they put it in.”
“You’re the one that picked out the wrong flower, so you’re ultimately at fault,” Deuce sighs. Turning back to Jade, the freshman laments, “Though, we’re not quite sure how one little flower could cause such a big difference. Or when it’s going to wear off.”
With the last sentence said, Deuce sends a wary glance to you. All of them know about the contractual agreement between you and Jade. Obligations stitch you two side by side until the effects of a botched potion wears off. However, he thinks this time should be the expectation.
“I hope it never wears off,” Ace snickers, undeterred by the glare of Deuce and Jade.
Originally, none of them knew if the potion was working wrongly, which is quite ironic. Working wrongly … ah, what an odd way to put it. But, when Professor Crewel dipped the rectangular slip of perfume-testing paper into your cauldron and it came back a neon pink instead of a dull orange, you knew you had to make the venture to find Jade Leech.
Even if I breathed in just a sniff, I have to do this, you griped when your trio asked why you were even heading in the direction of Octavinelle. Sadly, it is an obligation. Your contract has you and Jade spending a large amount of time together.
Out of all the mishaps, this one crept on you silently. Without any forewarning and without any subtlety. One minute you were standing idle by the Mostro Lounge’s entrance and then, Deuce cringes at the memory, you were like this.
“Jade, can I have another kiss pleaseee?”
Clinging like an eel with captured prey, your arms are wrapped tightly around Jade’s waistline. He cannot seem to pry you off. In honey-laced tones, you bat your eyelashes prettily up at Jade as you ask for your second kiss from him. Hopefully this one will be reciprocated.
As if the entrance to Mostro Lounge was enchanted with a changeling circle, something shifted in you when you saw Jade. In the crowd of waiters and customers, you found Jade working. Your pupils dilated; your breath hitched; Cupid’s arrow pierced into the cotton-candy red of your beating heart. At the sound of a flustered breath, the trio only got a second to view your visage – a magical cocoon of lovestruck emotions wrapping around you – before you run up to Jade, calling his name in phony passion.
The first kiss you stole, lip to lip, when you two collided in greeting. The look of disbelief on Jade’s face had Ace sputtering with laughter.
Deuce was quick to explain everything before Jade … Well, it was difficult for Deuce to tell what Jade was even thinking, or perhaps plotting. He cannot stomach hypothesizing upon the torment you might be subjected to because of how you are acting. Would Jade feed you poisonous mushrooms for all your non-consensual actions – non-consensual on both parts, you hardly seem right in the head.
For your sake, Deuce hopes Jade goes easy on you. Speaking of the eel-mer.
In response to your amorous inquiry, Jade tilts his head to look down at you. His eyes are unreadable shields. Though his voice has a tint of minacious teasing in it, “Perhaps we should find another activity for you to take part in? Dishwashing perhaps?”
Grim makes a whine at the memory of dishwashing months ago. Deuce breathes a sigh of relief, dish-washing duty is a low price to pay. It seems Jade might actually be merciful to your unfortunate soul.
“I’d get down and dirty with you in some bubbles.”
Deuce’s face pinches in worry.
“HAHAHA!” Ace full blown cackles, holding onto his stomach. “Oh, this is great!” He exclaims, sneering at both you and Jade.
That passive mien on Jade’s face has not even dimmed once at your prevetish intents. Polite disinterest is a mask welded firm to his visage. “My, what a crude innuendo. I must inform you, Mostro Lounge is rather firm on its policy on keeping professional conduct.”
You frown at this sentiment. One could even call you distraught over it. But then something sparks in your lovestruck brain, and you lean harder into Jade like you are trying to fuse yourself to his skin. “Well, is there anything else in Mostro Lounge that is fir–umph?” Jade’s hand covers your mouth swiftly.
You waste no time, pressing a kiss to the glove and staring up at him with half-lidded eyes.
Composure not slipping for a second, Jade turns to your friends who look on with expressions ranging from horrified to amused. Ah, Isn’t amusement most gratifying when found in the horrifying … Jade thinks so wholeheartedly. With a slight incline of his head, the vice-housewarden says, “As per our contract, I’ll take (Name) for the time being. You three are welcome to stay and enjoy our new spring menu.”
Your friends give various grumbles as Jade guides you away. Deuce even yells out a quick, stay safe, which makes sense when one is in the presence of a predator. However, your entire body is lax and void of tension. You follow after Jade, looking like you would follow him to the ends of the earth.
It is world-altering, tray slipping and dropping glassware type of world-altering, accidentally burning their hand on a hotplate type of world-altering to the staff of Mostro Lounge to see their second boss (and to some their own vice-housewarden) walk arm in arm with the Ramshackle Prefect. The rumors will infect the school for at least a whole semester. Yet despite the obvious euphoria flowing out of the Ramshackle Prefect as they cuddle up to Jade Leech, the side profile of the eel-mer is frozen in polite apathy.
His cheeks aren’t even pink when the Prefect presses close to him. And you are attractive to have a few admirers who would enjoy having you cling to them. Courteous, Jade opens the VIP room up to you, but you drag him in, refusing to be separated from him for a moment.
When the door clicks shut – thankfully Azul happens to be either in the kitchen or on the floor – with you pulling Jade’s hand and stumbling backwards towards the couch like it is a bed and you two are on your honeymoon, Jade’s stone composure fractures. It all comes spilling from him like an ocean free from the hold of a petite water bottle.
“Fu-Fuck (Name),” his voice trembles against his unoccupied gloved hand. Jade’s skin hue rockets from pale to pink to a red that makes him seem like he is overheating. Resolve wavering, Jade allows himself to be magnetized down to the couch.
In the sweetest voice that would put sirens to shame, you croon in his ear, “Jade; my lovely Jade; my strong Jade; mine, mine, mine.” You start to press deliberate kisses over his neck, seeing how much resistance his bowtie is going to give to your ministrations.
Jade is on his knees for you. His hands may be planted by your shoulders, but his lower body is completely off the couch. Amorously, you wrap legs around a slim waist and wrap hands around a forest of teal locks. He won’t kiss you back; he cannot find it in himself to, not when you are under a potion’s effect at least. However, he moves his head to an angle like a pleased cat to allow the kisses you litter on his neck.
“Take this off. Jade, off.” Vexful, your fingers pry at the bowtie fastened properly to his uniform. The white article is unapologetically firm against your inexperienced tugs. “Please.”
Something alive wiggles in Jade’s stomach like a spiral. Air crackles with a snap of fabric; the speed Jade rips his necktie off is intense. He undoes his silly bowtie with the eagerness of a highly anticipated Christmas present – good; because, under this potion, you are so eager too.
“(Name), you’re so …” He stops himself, not knowing whether you will remember this later.
As kisses burn his skin, Jade hopes he never scares you off. During Idia’s overblot, he had been so selective with how he fought to protect you – not wanting to mimic the ugliness you say you found in people who overblot. You, with a magic broom in hand, had asked him to abandon his post as vice-housewarden to help you find Grim; he would have abandoned his entire education for you like how the Mermaid Princess abandoned the sea all those centuries ago.
That train of thought is so dangerous though.Your friendship is so incredibly dear to him. Jade wants to take it slow.
Human courtship works in such mysterious ways that he sometimes feels like a failure at the methods and execution on his end of things. If he were to be truthful with you, pull back the floorboards of his facade to show you the concert of lovebugs thudding in their moshpit underneath … ah, he hopes so passionately to never scare you off.
As two of his dress-shirt buttons are undone, Jade leans his cheek against your temple. Like an efficient undertaker, he will bury himself under pleasantries to make himself appear more human and subdued. Even in dishonesty, he will love you honestly.
Your teeth are dull. His are not.
Said teeth burrow themselves into the juncture of his neck. Groaning, Jade is ashamed to feel his toes curl in his socks at the bite of such a prey. Sevens, he is stronger than this.
With spit and teeth, you start to suckle and break the blood vessels in his skin like they are merely thin glow-sticks. He feels each thread of his self control break with them. Serrations from his clenching hands are made in the VIP couch as Jade lets you paint a hickey on his neck.
The violet in his future bruise is sure to make a perfect matching garish for the color scheme of his dorm uniform.
You take exceptional care to hold your protector gently in your hands as you bite like a rabid animal. Like squishy dough, his skin rounds itself up and into the empty space of your mouth. It is a warm sensation that causes even his knuckles to tingle with the blooming heat.
“(Name)?” Your name falls husky out of Jade’s mouth. He did not think his vocal cords could wither to something unprofessional. “Uuh,” he moans from the sarcophagi of his throat when you chomp harder.
“So beautiful, so gorgeous, so … so Jade.” You punctuate these sentiments with pecks that move up to his cheek. When you say the last one, you cradle the left side of his face in your hand. You press your lips to his cheek as if trying to fuse with him.
He kills sentimentality from his voice thoroughly, but Jade has to know, “So Jade? Is that good?”
“It’s perfect.”
Jade drops you off at Ramshackle when your body slips into sleep. When he arrives at his dorm, he lands hard, supine on his mattress. Floyd glances up from his phone, not used to seeing Jade lie in bed so haphazardous without doing his whole routine. Lying in bed, the eel-mer takes his finger to press on the growing bruise on his neck – your own personal attack on him.
“I just had the best day of my life,” Jade muses. A smile wide and wicked blooms on his face as he looks at the ceiling. It only disappears when a pillow is thrown at him.
Reversed I. Jade rarely makes mistakes, but he had forgotten which came first: the live, squawking chicken begging to not be killed or the still, docile egg which could not voice the same plea, begging to not be killed.
Walking out Crewel’s class, having just aced a potion with your lab partner Ace (no pun intended), your eyes expand in surprise when you see one of Octavinelle twins stalking on the opposite wall. Grim bristles in your arm cradle and Adeuce falls silent in their conversation. Tension paints the air. Especially when said twin says:
“Ya breakin’ contract terms, Shrimpy. Can’t believe I gotta do the chase-and-catch act with ya.” His bored look morphs into a smile. “Though Shrimpy’s probably super fun to squeeze. Too bad Jade won’t let me.” His look morphs right back into boredom at his last sentence.
Whiplashed by his chameleon-ing expressions, you stand there numb. His words also make you pause because as far as you are concerned, you are not breaking any terms. The potion you just made went off without a hitch. Bsides, if it went wrong, you would be heading to Octavinelle, obedient to your terms.
“How am I breaking the terms? I haven’t messed up a potion since …” Since that time you were acting like a spellbound lovestruck fool, “since you know.”
You trail off. All you know about the last incident comes secondhand from your trio, having woken up in Ramshackle the day after with no recollection of the events. Stricken by only the prologue of a story you do not know, you went about classes in Night Raven College with a lingering sense of uneasiness for two weeks. You think to yourself, Jade must be livid, and start anticipating his revenge at any time. Yet, in the interlude of this horridly put together fantasy comedy that you have been thrown into, teal hair and sharp teeth never make an appearance until now.
… And the appearance is flipped like a mirror and yawning out, “Uuuh, yeah ya did. If one of you messes up a potion, you guys gotta be with each other.”
“But I haven’t messed up –”
Grim leaps out of your arms when you are grabbed but you do not have the luck to make your own escape.
Floyd ignores your words. “So, ya get to come with me, lil Shrimp,” he exclaims with a happy lilt, pulling you hard by the forearm. How the hell does a guy of his stature have the strength of a bodybuilder! “Tired of Jade being all boring and not comin’ to find ya. So, I thought I helped!”
“Oh, no, Floyd, that’s not our contract terms. The terms are –” You are cut off abruptly.
“Ya callin’ me a liar, Shrimpy?”
“EEK!”
The face in front of you – that leans down and covers you in a heavy shadow – is reserved for breakers of Azul’s contracts and those who have messed up majorly in Floyd’s book. Unbeknownst to you, you are the breaker of Jade’s sensitive little heart – he has been bemoaning how he probably scared you away two weeks ago, much to Floyd’s annoyance – and that means you have majorly, in behemoth portions, messed up in Floyd's book.
Staring into those pin-prick eyes and open mouth leer, you almost feel your bladder go slack in fear. With how nice, although a bit devious, Jade expressions have been around you, seeing this twisted version of those features makes you shudder. Don’t forget how vulnerable you are, it warns.
Luckily, there are three glorious idiots in this world that love you dearly. So, when one of them goes, “Hey, my Henchman ain’t no liar, liar!” you relax just a bit. Though Grim’s bravery quickly vanishes with a squealing EEK! when Floyd looks over your shoulder to make eye contact with him.
“Now, you’re someone I can squeeze, Sealy. Don’t get so noisy, ‘kay?” Those hostile eyes land back on you. “Don’t make me drag ya, ‘kay?”
“Hey, you can’t just talk to them like that!” Deuce defends.
“Ya tellin’ me what to do, Little Mackerel? I can talk to anyone however I want.”
“No, you can’t –”
“You can talk to me like that!”
Everyone, even you turn your own head, stares at Ace with wide-eyed expressions. “Hey! Sue me for having self preservation. I for one wouldn’t make such a stupid deal.”
Bristling, you bite back, “I literally devised a plan to save you from a deal with Azul months ago, asshat.”
“That was Azul; not one of the twins. ‘Sides, I’m sure Jade is so eager to see his little boyfriend/girlfriend again. Probably needs another kiss,” Ace teases with a shit-eating grin.
Your eyes go small in anger, a poor rendition of Floyd’s but still powerful. For these past two weeks, Ace has been referring to you as Jade’s partner and been hinting at more below-the-belt activities. Who knows what could have happened in Octavinelle, you and him all alone for a full day, he teases for the duration of fourteen days, hands steepled in mischief. Just as you open your mouth, ready to rip Ace a new one, you are lifted off the ground like a mere household pet.
“See! Crabby gets it!” You wrestle and twist in Floyd’s tight hold. “Ya both just need to kiss it out!”
“I think the phrase is talk it out,” Deuce adds helplessly as you dragged off by a 6’1” eel, screaming:
“Ace. Ace! When I get my hands on you! ACE!”
Thus, you are once more brought to Octavinelle against your will. Instead of being cradled by a cauldron full of water and Azul’s magic, you are held tentatively in Floyd’s arms as you wiggle and thrust in hopes to escape. He does not break your ribs or your arms luckily. You whack Floyd with all your might the entire way.
Heels dragging across linoleum, you watch the ground move under you like an escalator. Floyd is still effortlessly dragging you, much like a body-bag. Already, you have tried to bargain with Floyd on getting your tedious freedom. Offering up pieces of candy you have in your pocket, labor you could perhaps do in the Lounge; offering up one day to ransack Ramshackle of any objects he wants, labor you could perhaps do by helping him complete parkour tricks or basketball.
His mouth twists in contemplation when you offer to let him use the rocky, uneven terrain of Ramshackle’s backyard. Offer it for what? To Floyd for free-use to test ride for his new Blastcycle. You thank your very low population of lucky stars that Jade mentioned offhandedly Floyd was planning to join one trip of the Mountain Lovers Club to test the motorcycle on new environments for tricks.
You can deal with another deal with an eel! As long as you can avoid seeing the eel you were trying and probably failing to seduce due to a botched potion! Thinking you have Floyd hook-line-and-sinker, you completely stop struggling.
Until he hums, “Naaaaah!” and you two are jumping through Octavinelle’s mirror in the Hall of Mirrors. If the world has decided to give all its troubles to one person, the world has picked you from the pile. A part of you hates how much this cursed, twisted world has knocked you down repeatedly.
When the bubble pops, Floyd finally lets you walk with him. Though the arm looped around your shoulder feels more like a pillory than a friendly gesture. Devil-toothed, he smiles at you and says, “Sooo you and Jade, huh?”
“Huh!” You shout indignant.
“Hey, it’s cool. I approve so no sweat. Just unexpected ‘cus I thought this was just an experiment for Jade; then he got serious so I was thinkin’ wooow, weird, ya know?”
Confused, you just blink at Floyd’s words. This contractual agreement between you and Jade is more cat hunting the mouse then cat watching the mouse navigate a maze. It has a very hands-on experiment with you as the main test subject. But serious; why would it be more or less serious now?
The smile drops off Floyd’s face. “No way you’re this dumb, Shrimpy. I know ya suck at potionology but c’mon.”
“I just don’t understand what you mean by serious.”
“Sevens, you two would be pinin’ till your fourth year without me.”
“Pining?” … That involves your feelings being mutual? Jade doesn’t – “EEK!”
Floyd’s eyes go back to that pin-prick size again. He even halts both of your walk towards his and Jade’s dorm. Without your trio here, you sincerely doubt how much Floyd is going to uphold his decision not to squeeze you. Instead, he just throws back his head and groans. “He owes me a month worth of pickin’ up my shifts after this.”
You have numerous questions on what Floyd is alluding to but you are suddenly pushed into a more brisk walk. Floyd’s hand steers you. “‘Kay, I’ll give ya the rundown so ya don’t act like an idiot. Jade messed up a potion. And, your guys’ contract says you have to be around each other when that happens.” Incorrect but you let him continue.
“Jade … ya know him, Jade, my brother? Well, he’s the secretive typa-guy. Has a hard time lettin’ people get close. Mama calls him super shy. But, you, got to go hikin’ with him, see our dorm, and even eat a meal with him. Jade doesn’t do that with just anyone.”
Even though there is no botched potion ingested right now, you feel something fluttering around your stomach like a bubbling elixir at Floyd’s words. He continues, “And, right now, my oh-so-tight-lipped brother is under a truth serum potion.”
The world stops. One, because you come to the world-halting epiphany that you have been seeing a side of Jade that no one other than Floyd and Azul might be privy to view it. Two, because Floyd stops steering you in the direction of the dorm due to arriving at the very designation. The guy who keeps his real thoughts tucked behind layers upon layers of purple prose is under a truth serum; the guy who would rather shrivel up like a beached fish than reveal his heart is under a truth serum; the guy whose Unique Magic forces people to tell the truth is under a truth serum. The irony is not lost on you, and thus the world stops.
“Jade’s under a –?”
“Yeah,” Floyd laughs, tickled pink with amusement.
In sync, you both glance at the dorm’s door like it is a monolith dropped out of the skies. Who knows what might be held inside it? Venturing in might reveal some eldritch secrets that primitive extraterrestrials hid away thousands of moons ago.
“You can go in there, ya know. Contract says it’s fine.”
A part of you wants to finally clear up the confusion between Floyd and yours and Jade’s contract. Yet, a bigger part of you, oh that part has to see what is behind Curtain Number One more than anything else. An honest Jade Leech is like finding life on Mars. Deluding yourself, you think: Well, the contract never outlined the terms for the other party being compromised by a potion sooo … You glance at Floyd.
“I don’t understand what you get out of this.”
“Hehe, entertainment.”
That tracks well enough that you do open the door.
Hand on the knob of the monolith, you glance into rather tenebrous darkness like looking under the bed for monsters. Behind you, Floyd flicks up the switch with his index. Light floods the room. On the bed to the right, Jade lies peacefully on his side, hugging a pillow.
“You’re gonna need to shake him awake. Jade sleeps reeeal deep.” Slack-jawed, you turn around with indignance on your tongue. As a mouse, you refuse to be sent in to poke a slumbering cat. Yet, Floyd has already departed without another word.
“Asshat,” you mumble at the closed door. It is completely unlocked and you know you could leave anytime but … well, let's just say Jade is not the only one who likes to lift up rocks and see what squirms underneath. Besides, you have contractual terms that keep you protected.
“Okay … okay.” You steel yourself in your resolve. Despite this, you tiptoe your way over to Jade’s bed, hyper aware of what floorboard looks like it could possibly make a creak. Floyd is not under a truth serum; he could be lying about Jade being a deep sleeper.
Jade looks quite innocent when asleep. It is probably the last adjective anyone would ever use to describe him but it is the bone deep truth. Facade and stress melted from his features, there is this alien beauty resting peacefully on pallid skin. His hair is a bit more unruly; teal wisps all still flow in the same direction but they separate more openly. It kind of looks like someone took a balloon to his head and rubbed until static engulfed it. Oh, and his nose is so cute when he has his cheek depressing down on a pillow like that.
Smile stolen, you blink once in surprise from your own thoughts, despite knowing they have become like that overtime. “Aaah forget about it,” you murmur.
Reaching over, you gently grasp Jade’s shoulder. You have had a question on your mind for a while. Quiet as a mouse, you urge, “Jade. Jade, wake up.”
Nothing. He is sound asleep like a rock. “Jade?” However hesitant, you still try to shake him a bit more forcefully. “Wake up, Jade.”
Ugh, this is getting you nowhere. Part of you thinks he is putting up another identity and pretending to be a deep sleeper. Jade is rarely truthful. He always speaks in rhymes and half-truths. For a simple potion to untangle his tongue so thoroughly wants you yearn to discover just a bit more about him.
In this uneasy friendship of mouse and cat, you have found yourself enjoying discovering the hidden, earnest parts of Jade Leech. It is an unexpected development.
Though, it stings that he only keeps you around for entertainment and abuse.
Cringing, you think you stumbled upon what will finally rouse him from his sleep. You lean down to his ear and lie, “Jade, I was wondering if you would feed me some of the new mushrooms from your hikes? Pretty please?”
Unamused, you watch Jade’s eyelashes serenely flutter open like he is Sleeping Beauty. Asshat. Groggily, a pair of eyes stare up at you in disbelief, probably anticipating his brother or his housewarden. But, those blissful words you said seem to have him arouse as he stretches from his bed like a rising cat.
“(Name)?” He asks, sitting up in bed. “What are you doing in my room?”
A sheepish hand travels up to cover your pulse. Leaning heavy on your right foot, you lie with a chuckle, “Ah, Floyd dragged me here. Said you were sick with a fever. I’m not sure how he expects me to help though, heh.”
You know you should not … but you want to play with this. A sadistic part of you wants to watch him squirm and wiggle. Under the guise of coming over to assist him with a fever, you can only imagine Jade will try to hide the fact he is under a truth serum.
“Ah, Floyd is mistaken. I am not sick.”
That response is unusually curt for Jade; it seems he is going to try to conceal this as long as possible. You cannot wait to stretch out his resistrant like it is a stringy ligament you are drawing and quartering until it snaps. “Oh, that’s just unusual because you are sleeping when you should be in class. Slacking off?”
“Yes, I should be in class.” Jade remains firm in his bed, giving you a polite smile. Additionally, he is firm in his resolve to not give up any information. Even under a botched potion, his self control is strong; you wonder if there is anything that could ever make him act out.
Once again ignorant, you do not know that answer is quite simply: you.
However, there is one question you have been burning and yearning to know. Coy, you ask, “Well, that’s no good. Skipping classes like that. Though, you know I was wondering …Did you put mushrooms in that beef wellington a few weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
Something in you snaps. “AH, I knew it! You asshat!” You raise a fist, throwing yourself at Jade. “That’s disgusting, Jade! A violation of friendship! Where was it!”
As Jade bats away your flying fists, he says without much resistance against the truth serum, “In the duxelles sauce.”
You punctuate each time you call him a donkey wearing a tophat with a hit to his shoulder. Stronger than you, as natural of your protector, Jade is able to evade your hits well. The ones that land he lets land. Yet, having had enough, Jade soon grabs your wrist and with a laugh says, “Fufufu, you are so utterly adorable with your instinct to hit things.”
Blank-faced, you blink at Jade. “... Adorable?” It is not a world altering sentence; you bet Jade finds the prey that skitter away from him back home in the Coral Sea pitifully adorable too. Still, the revelation is a bit of a shock to the heart.
“Well, not solely adorable. No, there is a whole library in my soul dedicated to describing you. There are moments when you are irresistible as –” Whatever poetry Jade was going to wax, he halts it by slamming a hand over his mouth, horrified. Your eyes lock in shared terror.
“Wh-what,” you stammer, pulling away from Jade.
He grabs you by your shoulders before you get too far. With desperation, he pulls you right back to him. Then, Jade appears stricken, dueling in his head whether he should force you to stay or allow you to leave. It is like both of you have stumbled upon something horrifying and left speechless. Speechless at least until Jade grits out, “I … I think you should go.”
Having the upperhand of remembering he is under a truth serum, you ask softly, “Do you want me to leave?”
“No. I ache when you leave. I wish I had the foresight to length out our contract terms, so I could see you more.” The sheets look like they could tear like paper mache under Jade’s grip. With wobbling lips, he forces a smile full of teeth onto his face. “Don’t you think this humiliation is quite enough?”
To be honest hypotheses have been forming in your head quite some time ago. However, after your last botched potion, embarrassment ate up your speculation on if Jade reciprocated what you felt growing in yourself over time. Now, variables are tipping in your favor. And he has been such a mean cat to you so …
You sit yourself on the edge of Jade’s bed; the first sadistic grin you have ever shown him blooms on your face. “Why, no, I hardly think I’ve done enough.” Leg now up on the mattress, you hook your arms around the body part and lean forward, teasing, “You’re never this honest with anyone, Jade.”
“Best to keep one’s cards close to the chest, don’t you agree? With the way you were acting last time we saw each other, it was like you fumbled the entire deck.”
Your left eye twitches. Cracks appearing in your confidence, you grit out, “Oh, did I? I actually don’t remember all that happened; perhaps you can enlighten me. How did it feel to be so … seduced?”
“I have never known such bliss … Really, (Name), this is painful for me.”
As sheets tear under Jade’s twisting fists, your confidence refuels itself. Being in control like this is exhilarating, you can see why Jade enjoys it so. His squirming is so cute! Smug, you purr, “Oooh I see~” You take in Jade’s grimace with satisfaction and ask, “So, me? Really? When did that start?”
“Since that day in the botanical gardens.”
Your smile drops. “Huh?” Slowly, the landscape of your flesh succumbs to geysering blood. Flustering heat rises and lives on each inch of your face. Because – “Ha … heh, huh?” – you started feeling something naturally after the potion incident where you were turned into a mer. To know his emotions have been kept classified, under lock-and-key for so long; it leaves you dizzy with a blush. Perhaps you aren’t fit for the role of the cat.
However, Jade misjudges your sudden silence for fear. He does not dare to reach out. “Please, don’t be afraid of me.”
“Jade?”
“The very thought that you could makes me sick.”
You take in Jade’s cumbersome words, speechless. They soak into you like blood to a sponge. Fragile and human, your eyelashes twitch over your eyes, jittery until you half-lid your vision. A charmed chuckle escapes your lips, “oh Jade.”
His skin is so smooth. Cradling his cheek in your metaphorical claws, you smile lovestruck without the love potion. His face starts to beam a light, delicate pink. Cute and delicate and innocent … These are things that Jade is not. But under your warped vision, and through countless new experiments, you can squeeze him to fit the description.
“I could never be afraid of you. After all you’ve done for me … How you protected me? I don’t care about the teeth; I don’t care about the biology. I don’t need deep sea knowledge to know I like you … and I hope you like me too?”
You do not let him answer, fearful of the raw truth that could possibly be not what you want to hear, pressing a kiss to his lips.
His answer –the solution to the hypothesis – is given in his kiss.
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A while back I saw an ask about Hanma & Hina being friends, and it really stuck with me!
Can we have some headcanons about their friendship? I think they're neat :3c
Did I answer an ask like that? Lmao this is what happens when you do a bunch, you start to forget some. But here's a few on Hanma and Hina being friends!
Everyone who finds out they're friends is so confused about it because no one expects them to be.
Takemichi especially freaks out a bit while Kisaki raises an eyebrow at this.
Hanma first started talking to Hina and being interested in her when he found out about Kisaki's feelings. He was mainly curious as to the kind of person Kisaki would fall for, he only intended to find out why then he'd stop talking to Hina. But instead he found himself getting along with her so they actually became friends.
Hina was a little unsure of him at first because of how big and intimidating he seemed but treated him kindly and realised he wasn't that bad of a guy.
They go to cafes a lot together just to catch up and talk
Hanma likes how Hina is unafraid to stand up to people if Takemichi or one of her friends are involved.
Hina's dad nearly had a heart attack the first time he accidentally saw them out together
Hanma gossips with her a lot about toman and Hina always says they shouldn't but then listens with interest anyway.
Hina bakes little snacks for Hanma often, Hanma likes them a lot
Sometimes Hanma will tease Kisaki and Takemichi that Hina likes him more (he knows it's not true but loves to see their reactions)
While still in school Hina offers to tutor Hanma, in return Hanma says he'll teach her to drive a bike but Hina declines.
Emma is suspicious of Hanma's intentions until she hangs out with the two of them one day too.
They go shopping sometimes together too, Hanma always reaches the top shelf for Hina when she needs it.
You, a necromancer, were always fond of your skeleton minions. Even going as far as to make each one a personalized name tag. Then you were cut down by those blasted heroes, only to one day reopen your eyes and see an Elder Lich looming over you with a very faded name tag.
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Can you do soft shuji x bimbo reader or reader who doesn't quickly notice things and mistakes them as kindness but shuji actually likes her
I went more with the second one then the first but here's what I've got for Hanma x reader who mistakes actions for kindness! Warning: it does get a bit suggestive in parts
He thought you were messing with him at first, didn't think anyone could be that innocent or naive.
Eventually realises it's just how you are, gets a little pouty because of it though since his suggestive comments and actions go right over your head. How is he supposed to mess with you now????
He does think it's cute though, he likes hanging around you, just being around someone more optimistic and innocent.
Becomes a little possessive because of the other guys around you though.
He doesn't actually show this possessive side to you, at least not overly.
Glares at any guy he sees looking at you.
Holds your hand a lot in public or throws his arm around your shoulders. You assume he's just being affectionate but he's actually showing everyone else around that you're his.
Tends to spoil you a little since he loves your smile and wants it directed at him.
Sometimes when he tries to fluster you, he ends up getting flustered himself. Luckily for him you always believe him when he just says he's just feeling hot.
He likes how often you compliment him
Definitely tries to convince himself that he doesn't actually like like you, but instead just wants to keep messing with you to see if you ever realise things (he is such a bad liar)
Stares at you a lot, especially your lips.
"I could take you right now" "take me where?????"
Likes it when you wear his clothes
Has beat up a guy for daring to make a lewd comment at "my girl" before
It's the little tinkly shit he calls it. Various glittery charms and bracelets and chains you've somehow always got on even under pajamas and always a matching colour too. He wonders how they don't catch on clothes and sheets when you're between them, even moreso when you're gripping them tight between your fingers.
They're never more apparent than during then. When he's holding your wrist and the gold catches the light as is slides down your arm as he brings your hand to his mouth, then the inside of your palm and wrist and working his way upwards as he holds your eyes, you shyly looking away until he reaches up to clasp your throat.
And sometimes he'll stroke the column of it till the tips of his fingers touch at your chain, sitting pretty on your collarbones, the rough touch of his fingers that has a shiver running across your skin. And you'll pull his belt to bring him closer still and he'll laugh at your eagerness even though he's flattered.
It's a comforting kind of presence still. When you're in the other room, and you move an arm, leg and your anklet tinkles against the bone and he knows you're there, knows you're close. He likes that one the most actually, especially when he presses his lips to it as it dangles over his shoulder. You can forgive him for a few hard bites if it means he likes it this much.
And sometimes, he'll pop his head around the door to see your smooth and pretty neck curved to the side as you inspect the fridge, earrings lightly resting on the hinge of your jaw and you'll turn and see him and smile and his heart might skip despite himself. He'll never tell, but he suspects you know. He'll get a ring for you soon, something else pretty to wear to add to your collection. He has a few ideas already.
