open my kimono please

Really, though, people tend to write Floyd off as a clown—and for good reason, because he certainly acts like one sometimes, but he’s smarter than he appears. On the first day of classes when he’d slid into the seat next to yours, you immediately wondered aloud why he was taking biology his third year instead of his second, which would’ve been usual protocol. Had he flunked it or something? 

“Subbed it for Ancient Magic last year since bio sounded boring,” he’d explained, kicking his feet up on the chair in front of him (Crewel, sauntering around all dramatic-like before the bell, passed by and batted them to the ground, muttering bad), “but they wouldn’t let me get away with flakin’ out on it entirely.” 

Ancient Magic was usually strictly reserved for third years, so you guessed it was no small academic feat that he’d managed to wiggle in a year early. Even Jade’s test scores didn’t quite rival his brother’s. 

And despite this quiet academic prowess (or maybe because of it), he seemed to really be dreading biology. You kind of scrunched up your nose when he complained—you wished your biggest worry was being too bored by college level subject material, even if it was just a gen ed—but in that lovingly compensatory Floyd way, he’d wrapped up his lamenting with some slyly sweet comment about how it couldn’t be that bad as long as he had his Shrimpy with him. 

So you’d just rolled your eyes and smiled, returning the sentiment. As long as you had boy-eel-genius Floyd Leech to steal test answers from, you supposed you’d be alright. (He’d dismissed such a title with that radiating laugh of his, and so you were certain.) 

And to this present day, he’s been a shining classmate, honestly. Meticulous lab partner, halfway decent notetaker. When he’s in the mood for it, is what everyone usually bellyaches about his redeeming qualities, but you have yet to experience a Floyd so stormy that he’s unwilling to lend you a hand or be sweet to you. And you’ve been waiting for it to happen, you really have—to catch him on a bad day, to be the one to say or do the thing that sours his mood before you can blink. 

But it hasn’t, and you haven’t. 

Ace and Deuce theorize it’s for reasons that make you go warm in the face. Please, who else is he that nice to but you? Because Floyd is notoriously an individualist to his core. Yes, he has a reputation for scaring underclassmen straight with a single glare. Yes, he heckles professors every chance he gets. Yes, he likes to skip out of class and wander the halls when lecture falls into a lull, but when he drags you with him, he never disappoints his MO of loathing boredom. He keeps you guessing—but, somehow, in a way that never exhausts or overwhelms you. If you’re thankful for nothing else that’s come out of the entire ordeal of being isekai’d into this terribly absurd pocket of existence, you’re at least softened by the opportunity to find beauty in places no one else gets to see, even if those places are renowned idiot Floyd Leech. 

Like so many other things in Twisted Wonderland, he looks scarier than he is; the simple reality is that he doesn’t pay any mind to the narratives others fit him into, nor is he lacking in the depth that’s endeared him to you beyond your own expectations. He’s funny, he’s chaotic, he’s a quiet mind and a loud lover, reliable in his own right, predictable in his penchant for unpredictability. And one of your best friends!

Okay, so biology with Floyd goes better than what you might’ve expected it to.

It’s not like you’re going to complain. If he weren’t six-foot-whatever and heartwrenchingly pretty, you’d be so content with just best friends, but again, you’re picking your battles here. And Floyd, thankfully, doesn’t have to be one of them.

“Shrimpy,” he snaps, but when you look over, he’s grinning. Floyd tips your textbook shut for you; people are filing out of the classroom. You must’ve tuned out the bell. “Class is over. D’ja hear me?” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, grabbing your bag. “What’s up?” 

“I said you should study with me later,” he says, folding his arms beside you and tucking his chin into them. He looks up at you adorably. “Anatomy section’s kinda kickin’ my ass.”

Liar, you think at first—but then, maybe he’s not. Despite zoning out today, you recall the content of the past few classes—particularly, a class from last week, in which Crewel spent a whopping five whole minutes (if you were generous) taking a detour to a flimsy conclusion about how marine anatomy and physiology is so often glossed over on land, just by nature, by expectation, by separation or whatever, and for that reason, there isn’t really room for it in the syllabus. Or whatever. 

You don’t remember the smart comment Floyd made at this gap in the curriculum, but you remember he made one. And if landfolk life science is by and large as foreign to merfolk as vice versa, you figure maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe you’ll actually study for once instead of goofing off like you usually do, ending up on the roof of Ramshackle, scrounging in the cafeteria for late-night snacks, or sneaking onto the bus to Foothill Town; his kicked puppy stare tells you so. 

“Of course,” you say, gathering your things. “Mine or yours?” 

“Mine, duh.” Floyd stands to trail behind you to your astrology class; he has a break after bio, but he always walks with you anyway. “Or send Sealie away, at least, if we do yours. Gotta get serious about this test next week.” 

He still jars you a little when he talks so sensibly, but you chuckle anyway. “I can ask the uncles to babysit.” Your two now-sophomore Heartslabyul friends, you mean. 

“You’re the best, Shrimpy.” Floyd tosses a jovial arm around your shoulders, and you tuck yours around his waist to keep yourself from tripping on his feet. “Can’t get ya to Trein late or he’ll have both of our asses. What were ya thinkin’ about just now, anyway?” 

You, you could blurt, but you don’t. His fingertips toying with the shoulder of your blazer always make it harder for you to think clearly. Shouldn’t you have grown used to this by now? Floyd’s so open with physical affection when it comes to his friends; you hate when your brain makes it into something it obviously isn’t. Only it isn’t obvious that it isn’t, and you’d only ask if you were an iota more certain. 

You hum. “Can’t remember.” 

“Too bad. You looked real concentrated.” His chin knocks into your head, and you swat him away, laughing. “Love that lil’ brain of yours.” 

Please, shut up. You’re not an easily flustered Shrimpy; Night Raven College knows this about you. So, you think, what the hell? “J’you just call my brain little, Leech?” 

Cue sunshine laugh again. He doesn’t deny, nor does he confirm, but you know it’s out of love. Friendly love. Fuck, you’ve got it bad. 

Before you break away from him to cross the threshold into astrology, Floyd takes you by the shoulders. 

“I’m serious, I need help.” He’s got that whiplashingly serious look in his eyes when they snap to yours. “I’ll see you after dinner, yeah?” 

You nod, smiling as you internally curse the indelible flush in your skin. You’re so irritatingly sensitive to his charms today. No doubt if he does end up wanting to bail on studying later, you’ll give in. “I’ll text you.” 

“Cool.” In an instant, that toothy grin is back. He presses an amiable smooch to the top of your head (complete with loud mwah) and you swear you feel ten degrees cooler as soon as he begins retreating down the hallway. “See ya later!” 

You toss him a wave as you duck into Trein’s. Kalim greets you brightly—he also immediately asks you why you look sweaty. You blink, sheepish, and say, “Good afternoon to you, too.” 

What you didn’t expect out of biology was to have it so horribly for Floyd Leech.

Night Raven College knows, too, that you generally do a bad job at picking your battles. 

It really kind of blows for the mer-students at Night Raven that they don’t teach their fucking anatomy and physiology in bio. Sure, the majority of them probably learn about it under the sea, but then to be thrown into landfolk A&P with no frame of reference to accompany? Talk about a learning curve. 

It blows even worse that, right now, Floyd’s zeroed in on two blown-up diagrams right next to each other—the female and male reproductive systems—tongue poking out from behind his sharp teeth, brows knitted as he struggles to remember the names of everything he’s looking at. You’re pretty sure he was joking when he referred to the lymphatic system the limp-fantastic system (and maybe halfway intentional in making it sound like it moonlights as a Bizkit cover band instead of regulating fluids), but it is a lot to take in. Imagine him recounting the bones in the lower extremities some thirty minutes ago before getting to this. 

“So, these are the…” Floyd’s circling both illustrations tentatively with his fingertip, and then taps harshly on one. “Okay, I know this is a penis. That’s a wiener. Duh.” He drags his finger, panning over to the other as you snort. “And this is where the babies are made. This is the babymaker. Yep.”

Your chin drops to your chest (even though he’s technically correct) and you sigh through a laugh. “Well, they… yeah.”

“Sorry,” he whines petulantly, more for himself than you, “this is hard! I ain’t never seen any of this stuff before, you know.” 

But it’s less his human-anatomical incompetence that’s got you more dismissive than you ought to be for such intense material, and more the fact that since astrology all you’ve been thinking about is Floyd, Floyd, Floyd, just like you always do, like you’re a pathetic middle schooler lovesick for the first time, for their best friend no less. And now, words like penis and babymaker are leaving his mouth, and even though physiology specifically has got to be up there next to abstract algebra as one of the unsexiest areas of rote studying, having the guy you’ve got a massive crush on pick apart the literal stuff that’s inside you is making you feel some inconvenient (but not entirely unwelcome) things. You swear it felt a little romantic just watching and listening to him label the arteries, veins, and capillaries on and around the human heart. 

“Weird as all hell I’m part’a this whole new species and I don’t hardly know shit about it.” He grumbles briefly about technicalities and vocabulary as he flops onto his stomach; your mattress creaks out its protest, but he just buries his head in his arms. You hear, muffled, “I’m sick’a this, Shrimpy, let’s do somethin’ else.” 

Right, his borrowed human form. 

It’s not even a second before you’re trying not to think too hard about the fact that he’s inhabiting a body incredibly biologically compatible with yours. You disguise this train of thought beneath the sound of your textbook smacking closed before you opt to flop next to him, nosediving into your own arms in a similar fashion. Your skin feels like it itches. 

Stupid Floyd and his stupid study session and his stupid mouth that never shuts up and that you absolutely want to kiss. You miss the way he peeks up at you quizically with one golden eye, but if you would’ve noticed, you’d be cursing his stupid receptivity that no one ever expects because he acts like a moron. You need to pull it together now. Quit being distracted by your stupid, attractive best friend, quit reminding yourself of his stupid human anatomy, and especially quit wondering if you could get him as worked up over nothing as he’s got you, in mer-form or otherwise, and how it would feel for him—if he’d like it, if he’d like you… If he’d—quit it, quit it, quit it, your stupid human brain chants like a mantra. 

Think about anything else. His true form is probably so incompatible with yours, think about that. Think about how he’s actually, like, half a fish. Yeah. There. Crisis averted, battle picked. 

“D’you feel alright?” he asks, fingers curling around your arm to feel your forehead. Ruined it, just like that. “You’re warm.” 

“I’m fine,” you don’t mean to snap, but you do—even so, his hand doesn’t recoil. Floyd scratches your hair a little, the way one might do to a dog. You could scream at him not to touch you if you didn’t like it so much, but you do—painfully so—which is why you turn your head to face him while his fingers trace lazy half-shapes from your hairline to your temple. You try to sound chipper and not at all strained when you concede, “Let’s do something else. What’d’you wanna do?” 

He blinks at you slowly, obviously dissatisfied with your dodge. He still traces, brushing your cheekbone as he studies you. “Something’s on your mind, Shrimpy.” 

Stupid receptivity. “Just information overload,” which isn’t entirely a lie. “And I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you. No marine A&P, my ass. You’ve got marine communities well within reach here, so not teaching it’s an outdated excuse for ignorance, if you ask me. But I guess humans are good for that wherever you go.” 

Floyd hums, pulling away from you, rolling onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head. “Yeah, that pissed me off, too.” 

“‘M pissed for you.” You do give a shit, really, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to have something to channel your intensity into right now. 

Quiet settles over you both. You allow yourself a few seconds more of stewing and admiring his side profile, his sharp nose and bitten lips; Floyd looks like he’s pondering. You wish you could pick apart what’s inside him, too. He’s fascinating to you—you love his lil’ brain, too, you know, in more ways than one. It really is an injustice that landfolk don’t know more about merfolk and their glaring similarities and yet, major differences; Floyd’s an emotional, physical, scientific marvel to you. You don’t think you’ve met anyone more interesting. Or easier to love, for that matter. 

Fuck.

“I know!” In an instant, he’s on his feet. “Let’s hit the pool. You’re all warm, it’ll cool you off—” He’s tugging you to your feet, grabbing his bag, bright, pointy smile lighting up all at once, “—it’ll be so fun. You can relax, and I haven’t swam in days…” 

“That actually sounds perfect.” Yes, back to fish-form with the heathen. You’re quick to toss together a bag of swim things, eager to put mind-numbing, rage-inducing study material and complicated emotions alike to rest for the night. His unreserved laugh when you agree so readily still makes your heart flutter, but you plan to leave it at the door. 

Surely, you can leave it at the door. 

On the way to the mirror chamber, you’re so eager to leave it behind that you’re asking questions—your mood flipping with his, incidentally—because you’re disgustingly susceptible to him and, as noted before, you do give a shit. Ardent and full of curiosity, just like you always are with him, you shed the limitations of textbook-sanctioned inquiry and launch yourself full-force at reclamation of your own wall-hitting; you can and will get a fucking grip and be normal. 

“Is it super different?” you ask. 

“What?” Floyd’s rummaging in his bag as you both walk, already aware he forgot a notebook in your room. “Merfolk stuff?” 

“Yeah.” You adjust your own bag on your shoulder. “Like, your A&P is probably as different to me as mine is to you. Where I’m from, scientists haven’t observed a whole load of shit about the ocean—it’s more of a mystery to us than outer space. There’s tons we don’t know about morays, you know.” 

“Oh, yeah, I mean skeletal system-wise, there are bony fish, and then ones with more cartilage. And either way, the whole structure and makeup is so different since we got no legs, and…” 

You listen to him talk all the way through the mirror, into the halls of Octavinelle, past the lounge and onto the sprawling pool deck—it’s empty, much to your relief, sparkling and humid; when you reach down to skim your fingers across the water, it’s refreshingly cool. Floyd’s submerged before you can blink, hardly pausing his spiel; you lift your shirt off and toss it aside, and suddenly he’s aquamarine and soft green, scaly and shiny and webbed and you would tell him to look away while you slip your bottoms on but it’s you who’s staring, really. 

“And then merfolk fall sorta in the middle of the venn diagram between humans and fish when it comes to reproduction and shit. Don’t really know how that happened, and I don’t even know how—I don’t think…”

For once in his life, he trails off. You settle at the edge of the pool, dipped in up to your knees, and he swims up to you. Wanna play mermaids? is what you’d usually joke, but as your kicking feet slow to a stop and Floyd’s arms curl up across your lap, all you can do is look down at him, ruminative and a little mystified (no matter how many times you see him in his true form, you’re always taken by its elegance). 

“Whatever.” It’s the day of Floyd burying his face in his elbows and looking up at you in a way that makes you want to take a page out of his book and squeeze him until he pops; it certainly doesn’t help that, absentmindedly, your fingers move to card through his wet hair and he hums, low and sweet as you do, so that you feel it in your stomach. “Not like lookin’ at anything on a piece of paper does squat. I’m more of a hands-on learner.”

He blinks up at you through his wet lashes—it should be a criminal offense—and you grin down at him as he splays his palms across your thighs, tracing, tracing little shapes again (fuck, and now you’re looking at his biceps. Stop that!). Your face burns, but you mock confusion to play it off. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re flirting with me, Floyd Leech.” 

Less a bold move and more placing the ball in his court because with Floyd, what you see is mostly what you get. Yes, he’s a horrible trickster, but you know him. And if you know him as well as you think you do, he’ll laugh that radiant laugh (which he does) and, next, you’re confident, brush you off and yank you into the water yelling about how his Shrimpy needs to learn to swim like he does so you can keep up with him—yes, he’ll wave the silly little theatrics behind you both and forget it even happened before tomorrow peeks over the horizon. 

But he muses, “I am,” not at all coy, because coyness and Floyd don’t go hand in hand. 

And you blink at him, all at once a little giddy and disbelieving. “No, you’re not.” 

“D’ya not want me to be?” Schroedinger’s flirt. I mean it if you do, but if you don’t, then of course I’m totally joking. 

His mismatched gaze is locked steadily on you. You wish he would ever let you hear the end of it if you covered your face with your hands, but he won’t, so you don’t; you just giggle, unable to not, unable to confirm or deny, unable to decide if it’d be better or not for him to say he’s messing with you. It’s always straightforward, except when it isn’t. 

“Shrimpy, I’m serious,” he continues when you finally look at him again. He does feign urgency—or maybe he’s not feigning, like his words would imply, as he positively bores into you. “Do you not want me to flirt with you?” 

“I—” You suppress your trepidation, doing your best to match his air. “I never said I don’t want you to.” 

“Get in the damn pool, then,” he snaps a little bit, impatient—impatient for you, you realize; you’re smirking as he slinks down to tug at your ankles with no real consequence. “C’mon.” 

“Make me,” you tease, and something dangerous ingnites in his eyes—something that makes you want to toy with your fingers and look away, but you don’t, because it’s always worth stifling yourself to feed Floyd a little bit of his own medicine. You’ve never watched it have this particular effect on him, though; when you grin evilly at him, he plants his palms on either side of you and rises out of the water to your eye level. 

“Don’t piss me off,” he half-barks in your face—sometimes, if you poke him hard enough, you do feel like you’re catching a glimpse of the scary Floyd everyone’s warned you about, but you don’t slink away from it. You kick at him, go to pinch his nose—he makes an attempt to bite your fingers and you laugh and laugh, and he does, too, eventually, the two of you in a duel where you have the upper hand only because he chooses to give it to you (and his hands are literally occupied with holding himself above water). 

You wrastle with him, landing a jab to his (infuriatingly well-defined) stomach, snapping your fingers in his face a bit, blowing air in his eyes—before you gather his cheeks between your fingers, squishing his face in a way that makes him scrunch his nose, lips puckered unwillingly, and you—you fucking kiss him. You land a quick peck to his mouth without even thinking, and you release him immediately; he pulls back, but only a few inches, just enough to look at you. 

For a moment you think he’ll really get mad. You try not to shrink. 

It’s quiet and you can’t tell if his expression is starstruck or disgusted. 

A few seconds is a century. 

“Kiss me again,” he barks right at you. Like he thinks you won’t. 

Your face feels stuck, contorted into a sheepish grin; Floyd’s open mouth, taunting you, luring you in, lets you watch his tongue flick between his rows of sharp teeth and the thought of what they’d feel like in your neck jolts you toward him, your hands grabbing for his strong shoulders; he’s not sure if you’re about to shove him off or devour him whole, but he hangs in that lightning-quick moment of anxiety, thrilled to have your hands on him, all at once assured and with the only hint of apprehension you think you’ve ever seen on his face and you decide you have to, you must—what else could you possibly do but throttle yourself forward, into him, not at all soft or scared as the water envelops you from head to toe and he does just the same? 

Beneath the surface is a pillowy, noise-cancelling limbo—you feel like you’ve plunged into a dream, eyes screwed shut and senses dulled where the only vivid things are his hands clutching your waist and his lips on yours. And you kiss him and kiss him, drifting up, suspended, cupping his jaw like you’d start breathing him if you could. 

Before you hit oxygen, pockets of air bubble out from between both of your mouths; you’re laughing before you’re inhaling, finding yourself panting to catch your breath—unlike Floyd, who giggles so fully and unapologetic it echoes around the pool deck. The next thing you feel is a cool, slick tail twining around you—your hips, your waist, so you don’t have to flail to stay afloat. 

“Here, hold onto me.” His tail slips away with his tense disposition, replaced by laughter that doesn’t cease as you link your ankles behind him at the spot where his human back gives way to his mer-half, and your wrists at the base of his neck. “There ya go.”

You’re not sure if you’re tingling from the impact to the water or from the way his pale teal chest rises and falls so rapidly against yours. He sways back and forth so subtly you’d almost think it was only the rippling of the water; you wane into silence in the crook of his shoulder, like you don’t want to be the first to speak. 

But he does (you’d be nervous if he were to be quiet); large, clawed hands slide from your waist to hold you up from beneath your ass. 

“I could kiss you again,” he offers into your ear like it’s the most obvious thing—a was that okay? of Floyd fashion, an opening to tell him he’s silly, this was silly, to let you go. He listens to you for alarm bells. You don’t set any off. “Always wanted to do that. Could do anything you want, baby.” 

Baby? 

What world were you transported to when you resurfaced? It’s the first time he’s called you anything other than Shrimpy, or your name. Something flares in your chest, unfurls down your arms and into your fingertips which trail down to the planes of his chest.

Anything? 

Your manner of yes, of promptly shutting that window, is a series of fluttering kisses beneath his ear, over subtle, pulsing gills you’ve never been close enough to notice before, let alone touch. You really can’t curse the A&P curriculum now—it’d be blasphemy. Look where it got you: nipping at your best friend’s throat, quick to wonder what bruises would look like blooming on his aqua skin. You tear into him gently, hearing him hum over hitched breath when you do. 

“I mean, I think I could use an interactive lesson if I’m gonna have a shot on this test.” A minute ago, you were the one gasping for breath; now, Floyd sighs to maintain composure, accidentally puncturing your bottoms with his nails while you lick across his jaw. You can’t see his erection, but you can feel it, beginning to press up beneath you as his arousal grows. Merfolk fall sorta in the middle of the venn diagram between humans and fish, he had said; maybe you’re more compatible that you originally assumed, and the fact that you have him hard just from a little bit of kissing and biting is so pathetically cute. Floyd might look real tough, but he’s practically falling apart just the way you fantasized he would earlier today, just as quick if not quicker than you, his cute lil’ Shrimpy—his baby—who’s clearly had more control over him than he’s let onto until now. 

You pull back to look into his olivey eyes and he’s half-lidded with something just to the left of restless yearning—like how a predator must look when it’s got its prey backed into a corner. 

But you’re hardly prey.

His head cocks like a puppy waiting for a treat. “Ain’t’cha gonna help me out?” 

Later, you’ll swear this was him begging, and he’ll deny it; he tries to distract you from it with that sly confidence, his eternal air of never taking anything too seriously, but you have him right where you want him. 

Even if he does get one final jab in, sing-songy, grasping onto the last of his smugness. “You could get a little marine anatomy lesson in return, y’know.” 

You want to make him squirm back—so you concede, “Alright,” like you’re doing him a favor. In reality, it’s so sweetly dizzying and surprising to drink in his desperation after he’s made you feel crazy for as long as he has. You untangle yourself from him, backing up until you hit the wall so you can hoist yourself upon it once more. 

Floyd treads back up to you without having to be told. When you slip your bottoms off, you don’t ask him not to look. 

“Ever touched a human like this before?” you ask, more to put him through answering than actually looking to know; you have a pretty good idea, anyway, from the way he just pouts up at you—an answer in itself. You prop one heel up on the edge of the pool and push his drenched hair away from his forehead as he settles a shoulder beneath your still submerged calf, downturned eyes shining. 

You look at him so fondly, drag your gentle touch down his face before tilting his chin toward the apex of your thighs; if eels could blush, you’re certain you’d have gotten him with the way you wiggle forward to the edge and spread yourself open with two fingers. 

You’d be kidding yourself if you said his hungry gaze and warm breath on your cunt doesn’t affect you just as terribly. 

“So,” you clear your throat—this is an anatomy lesson, after all. You’re nothing if not committed to the bit. “A lot of my reproductive anatomy is inside—totally unreachable. But this—”

You demonstratively swipe a finger over your clit. 

“—feels real good if you touch it.” 

Floyd, self-proclaimed hands-on learner, doesn’t waste a second replacing your finger with his thumb. 

You yelp, jumping a bit, for more than one reason. “Watch the claws, Leech.” 

He bites his lip through a focused smile—he really is so hot when he actually gives his full, undivided attention to something, and the fact that you’re the something is even better. “Sorry.” He’s hardly sorry. 

But he struggles to avoid scratching you up. 

“Tell me what to do, baby,” he insists at your ow, ow, ow, lower and more invested than usual—it makes you clench around nothing, makes you feel so empty. You wish his fingers inside you wouldn’t maim you. You suppose that’s an excursion for his other form. His hands instead busy themselves grabbing at your thighs, opening you up, wanting more. “Can I just…?” 

You don’t know if oral sex exists under the sea and you don’t really care—either way, Floyd’s unhinged enough to just go for it without you having to tell him, and you simply guide his head the rest of the way to you as his tongue licks a long, experimental stripe up your slit. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “yeah, that feels—” 

He keeps licking. Enthusiastically, like one might an ice cream cone. You cover your smiling mouth for a split second before you continue, pushing him away to show him.

“Here, here, here.” Again, you touch yourself—so pulsing and hot compared to how chilly he is. “This little—above the hole, is the—”

“The Exorcist,” he insists, looking deadpan up at you, so Floyd in timing, that you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. 

You try so hard not to snort. Sevens, what kind of media has he been consuming up here? At least he’s maybe, sort of trying? (His bio grade does depend on it, after all.)

“Clitoris,” you correct him, chuckling at the sheer absurdity of this whole situation. It’ll catch up to you in embarrassment if you don’t get his mouth on you in the next five seconds, you’re pretty sure. “See it? Feels really good to touch, lick, suck o—oh!”

Before you can breathe, he’s latched onto you—licking again and pausing where you’ve instructed him, suckling around you and twirling his tongue in a way has you pushing him into you instead of away, now, and you’re going to keep your voice, of course; you’d go as far as to call him somewhat of a natural, but you’re still going to instruct him like a good tutor. 

“Y-yeah, that’s it,” you encourage him; his tongue feels long and a little frigid, so unlike anything you’ve felt before, and it’s certainly not working against him. “Just—don’t move down—yeah, like that. G-good boy, Floyd.” 

He must like that, because he hums into you; the vibration sends your hips rolling forward into his mouth—you prop your other heel up to spread yourself even wider—and he peers up at you wetly like he wants you to say it again. 

When you don’t, his eyes flutter shut, his brow furrows, and his tongue works harder—making you arch, making you croon.

And it falls from your mouth like you can’t help it, “Good boy, right there—mhm!” 

Said tongue slips down, prodding your hole; you’re gasping all over again, biting into the back of your hand when Floyd moans into your pussy once more like he’s unaware of the shockwave it sends through you (he probably is), his hands landing at the small of your back to tug you into grinding on his face. He seems to enjoy alternating between tonguefucking you and making out with your clit—if how tight he’s holding you is anything to go off of, anyway, and with the way he moves, the way his elbows come up to rest under you, tense and holding himself up, it seems like he’s humping the pool wall. 

The fact that he’s getting off on going down on you makes you want to lay back and curl your thighs around his head. But as much as you’d love to cum in his mouth, as good as his tongue feels drinking you down, now that you know he has a cock, you pretty much need him to fuck you with it. 

“Floyd,” you whine, wriggling away from him. He’s hesitant to let you go; his eyes fly open like you’re taking away his favorite toy, which you may as well be. “Floyd—ah, I want you t’fuck me, please?” 

That has him happily departing with a lewd smack, nails letting up on your flesh; he looks up at you with a dopey smile, like you’ve just injected him with something that’s sent him skyward, but it doesn’t last long—he’s determined as he pulls you back into the water with real firmness, catching you beneath your arms as you squint for the splash. 

When you open your eyes, you’re met with a satisfied and glistening mouth, tongue poking out, lapping you up. “You taste good, Shrimpy.” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t call me Shrimpy while we’re fucking.” 

Floyd snickers. “Ya like baby better? Maybe I’ll use that all the time from now on.” 

“You should,” you agree before he’s kissing you; you’re coiled around him again in an instant, tasting yourself in his spit, sliding a restless hand under the water between both your bodies to thumb his tip. 

Floyd bites your lip as you circle him; you half-wish you could see him from an outside point of view, how his eyes are screwed shut, how his jaw flexes and releases when he chokes on his breath, but you know you can’t be anywhere but here—you fully don’t want to be anywhere but here—pleased at the way he bucks into your hand all needy. 

When you maneuver him down to drag your cunt along him, you earn your first nasally, full-bodied moan from Floyd Leech—all at once obscene and uncorrupted; you wonder if he’s ever made himself sound like this, if he would even know how to; you nearly growl into his open mouth as his ridges and veins catch on your clit, your entrance. You wonder, too, just how soaked you are right now, riding along his length, which does not by any means feel small, by the way. When you close yourself around him to let him fuck your thighs, you feel his tip reaching past your ass. 

And now that he’s started, he’s not going to shut up. “Oh, shit, that feels—Shrim—baby, oh, fuck.” 

You wish you’d have dedicated some time to learning his cock—when you catch a glimpse beneath the surface, it seems to be the same darker shade of blue-green that contours the edges of the rest of his body; it’s undoubtedly naturally slick, also not unlike the rest of him, probably as pretty as it feels. 

You bite into the freckles across his collarbone as you thrash against each other, all sweat and water and stickiness and teeth. “Want you,” you mumble in his webbed ear. “Spare me the lesson.” 

“Alright,” he hisses, letting up like it’s painful. “Your turn.” 

It’s in Floyd’s nature to turn on a dime. He was so docile while you let him explore you. His razor-sharp grin threatens you with ruin now that you’re letting him take what he wants, forgetting all about the subject at hand—the topic that got you here in the first place. Nonetheless, he intends to be strict, you can tell—even if you’re the one palming his cock, wetting your lips for more of his rough kisses, hooking your knees over his elbows and guiding him into your cunt. 

“This how ya do it?” But he’s got the basics down by now—and with you lining him up, he’s got little more to do than thrust himself forward, but he decides the best way to go about this is to shake his head dismissively, almost annoyed, and bend your knees up to your shoulders, damn near to the pool wall, and all at once he’s in you, filling you up, hitting you deep. 

“Floyd!” you squeal, stretched in more ways than one. “Chill!” 

“Fuck—can’t,” he groans brokenly; he’s fucking into you already, steady and rigid. His next sentence tumbles out more like one long word, like it might be the last thing he ever says: “Oh, fuck, it feels so good, I gotta move.” 

His long tail comes to wind tight and writhing around your middle as he pins you, leveraging your whole body as he keeps an experimental pace, but already, speech escapes him; still, Floyd doesn’t shut up, groaning through uneven whimpers, unabashed and frantic to let you know how you good you feel even if you’ve stolen his voice. 

Water swashes around you and you can do nothing but cry out, tangling both hands in Floyd’s drenched hair, your forehead pressed to his. 

“‘S’okay, baby, I want it all,” you whine. 

And in a second, his hips are brutal against yours. 

You can’t see anything below—the way he fucks you deliriously stirs up the water—but you reach down to touch yourself again, jaw slack to your chest as he bends and pounds you; Floyd’s so damn loud you’d worry about being heard if it wasn’t for the way you can feel his dick, ruthless in your guts, turning your brain to pitiable mush. He looks so pretty, eyes all teary and borderline crazed, teeth clenching closed just to be pried open by pitchy moans that send waves of heat straight to the orgasm building in your core. 

When he gets his voice back, you’re losing yourself—reminding yourself to keep your eyes open, keep your gaze on him, because you’d rather die than miss the way Floyd looks when he opens his pretty mouth again. 

“If you—fuck, ‘m gonna cum in you—‘f you could take it, I’d keep—keep fuckin’ you…” 

“Want it,” you breathe, words all strung out and slurred, whole body jostling with the way he batters against your insides, “ngh’I want y’r cum.” 

Floyd cusses a few more times—mouth just as filthy as the rest of him for you as you goad him—because you want him, you want him to cum in you, you’re so fucking tight and perfect around him that he knows he’s growing more and more addicting with each rapid-fire slam of his tip against your cervix but he couldn’t stop if he wanted to, and from the way your hips jerk to the flexing and curling of your toes and the whines and moans you sing, muddled and noisy, into the air for him, he doesn’t think there’s a world that exists where he’d want to. 

“This is where you’d release your clutch, if ya had one—oh,” he explains, breath quick and hot against your neck as you twitch—you’re so close, he can feel it, the way you clamp around him erratically as each stroke, each thrust distresses his words into little more than gasping and rambling. “A-and I’d—hah, fuck, I’d knock you up so good—” 

In your hazy, foggy, humid upswing of pleasure your melting mind remembers his unfinished thought from earlier: I don’t even know how—I don’t think… And oh, fuck, just the thought of it sends you hurdling over the edge, cumming hard, but 

the words, too, are leaving you before you can stop them, before you can think too hard about what it is your clipped and breathy voice is babbling— 

“G’na breed me? Wanna fill me up with your kids, Floyd? Huh?” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah—” he chants back, ruined, “G’na fuckin’ take it all for me, aren’t’cha, baby?” 

“Fuck, I need it,” you’re unsure if you whisper or scream—your nails are harsh in his shoulders and his teeth are buried in your neck, muffling rough, rhythmic cries as he cums, throbbing inside you; he cums so fucking much, you can feel it, filling you to the brim, coating every inch of you he can reach, trembling and spasming and fuck, he can’t stop—it feels like forever and too soon when he slows to a stop, buried in you, letting up on your neck and dropping your legs to grab either side of your head and kiss you long and hard, both of you half-humming, half-whining into each other. 

Between labored breaths and lazy kisses you spend a good few minutes rocking into one another—biting at lips, hands wandering, tongues poking, until eventually you’re both just play-fighting, snickering quietly, touching in ways that are spent of sex and yet still wholly intimate.  

When he calms a bit, scarily serious in that way only Floyd can get, he asks you, “You gonna be mine ‘er what?” 

“I’m already yours, Leech.” You flick water at him, resigned, and wriggle a bit. One golden eye winks to dodge, and he’s grinning, so familiar; as he untangles himself from you, helping you back up onto the tile, he mocks relief.

 ”Good. Would be kinda awkward if you weren’t.” 

Water settling is the only sound across the pool deck as you towel off, shuffle your shorts back on. In the silence, Floyd twirls around the water and starts to sing a stupid little song—totally off-key and fully content, I love my Shrimpy, I love my Shrimpy… 

Until the lights start to flicker, and you hear the extremely vexed voice of a certain Mostro Lounge owner from the far hallway— 

“If you’re done, get the fuck out! My students are trying to sleep!” 

Despite the novelty of being in a relationship, Silver has been an attentive and giving partner. What prompted him to dive into this territory out of the blue? You couldn’t trace back any memories of a complaint regarding this matter that could’ve encouraged Silver to do this.

“…No, not at all.” With that, you opened your legs again. Figuring that whatever his motivation, it wouldn’t hurt to humor him and helped him get rid of your pants.

Silver closed his eyes and first fluttered a kiss on your knee, then moved forward and pressed his soft lips into your thighs—a kiss on each—hands not yet shifting away from their place against the underside of your legs in the meantime. When you thought he would put his mouth where your body ached for him the most, he lifted your shirt to place kisses on your tummy instead.

How they grazed the skin tickled you, easing a chuckle from you. At the sound, Silver peered at you, and traces of pink emerged into view on his cheeks.

In a haze, thoughts clouded by you, he didn’t measure the force with which he hoisted your leg onto his shoulder, coming close to throwing you off your balance if your hand hadn’t landed on the bed to support you.

“Ah, are you okay?” he rushed to ask but didn’t back away.

“You took me by surprise.” You snickered and signaled him to continue with a nod.

Your laughter died down when at last, his tongue found your clit, dampening the fabric of your underwear with his drool. He licked it in upward and downward motions, making your hips twitch into him. Teasing you with the tip. It wasn’t long before a wet spot exhibited your pleasure, making the fabric translucent. Losing yourself to the pleasure, you grabbed Silver’s head as a silent plea for him to ravish you already. Rather than heeding your plea, Silver chose to grasp your wrist and pull it away to place a kiss on your knuckles.

“I’m sorry, but may I be selfish today? I want to take my time with you,” still holding your hand, he sucked your clit through your underwear. The cotton was so drenched that it stuck to your skin.

Then, he pulled the wet crotch of your underwear to the side to continue sucking and licking your cunt, without restrictions left between the two. His tongue and lips worshiped every inch of your skin, lapping and swallowing along the path of your pussy lips and clit. Your hand tingled to hold on to Silver’s head, but the surrounding grip didn’t allow you to fulfill that itch. The more you tried to free it, the tighter he intertwined his fingers with yours. Besides that, your other hand provided support for you to stay upright; otherwise, you would collapse on the bed.

Well, not that it mattered anyway. At some point, Silver kept pushing forward until he hoisted up both of your legs, keeping them open and in place. He didn’t even bother with discarding your soaked underwear; it hung from your ankle. You had a miniscule amount of rationale left in you to ask if his knees didn’t hurt from the position…

“Silver—”

Or at least, attempted to.

Your one answer was the loud and sloppy noises coming from his mouth servicing you, further making you lose yourself in the feeling. With both your elbows against the mattress to be somewhat seated, a little more and he would be folding your legs toward your abdomen.

“Please call out my name more,” Silver pleaded, barely settling distance to speak. He gave his all in meeting your urgent quivers to his tongue, eyes lost in a dazed state and thoughts scrambled into nothingness. “Your voice, let me hear it more—mmhh—please… Yes, like that…”

The affection in his voice was akin to a sweet caress to your ears, sending whatever was left of your reason out the window, and how you repeated his name came naturally at that instance. Your back arched off the bed, the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching, thanks to Silver’s fingers spreading you open and slobbering on your pussy. His unyielding clasp on the back of your knee, propping you open, impeded your jolts and tremors from pulling you away from his hot tongue.

Earlier in the morning, you’d told him you wished he’d be more open about his feelings and wishes, to be a bit more selfish. He was doing just that, and looking at the way you were indulging him and enjoying it, he’d say he was doing a great job with your request.

His cock strained hard against his pants, but if he tried to relieve himself, he would lose his grip on your legs, and then your moans and responses wouldn’t be as fervent as they are now.

Silver responded with a surprised groan when you wrapped your calves around his head when your orgasm struck. You hadn’t noticed it in the intensity of the rapture embracing you. You held him as close as possible—he couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. However, that mattered not. He was content with easing every drop of your climax, sucking the sticky, transparent liquid onto his tongue.

The tremors of pleasure stopped, yet Silver didn't. After he was done with your dripping pussy, his tongue glidded against your inner thigh, cleaning the arousal that stuck there too.

“So good…” A mindless mutter against your sensitive skin, the idea of withdrawing unwanted as he kissed your thigh.

Your taste remained embedded on his tongue, but he knew he couldn’t go back for another one. Not until you were ready, at least. Silver didn’t want it to hurt. He sat your legs down; he wasn’t holding you open anymore. Given the intensity of the orgasm he just gave you, however, you were in a sprawled position even then.

Silver climbed on top of you, his own breath labored, cheeks flushed, and sweating. You looked up at him, your breath more stable than his but still rapid. Not a second passed before you trapped him between your arms and brought him towards your lips, the exchange simulating the lustful and wet slovenly he made between your legs. Open-mouthed kisses and tongue added into the blend.

Witnessing Silver losing his composure was an uncommon sight. When he detached from your mouth to speak, an absolute appetite for you overtook his expression.

“Not fair.” His mouth took over yours again, stealing your breath away. “You make it hard to think. My darling, if you’d let me…”

With a mere grind of your leg into his stiff cock, Silver answered with a pleasured sigh. He didn’t need to finish what he wanted to say, his body did the speaking for him.

Trey Clover

His hands rest on your hips, fingers pressing just enough to remind you they're there, but he doesn't guide you. Trey's breath hitches every few seconds, a slow, controlled exhale that betrays how desperately he wants you to move. "You're doing this on purpose," he murmurs, voice strained, and you feel his c*ck twitch inside you. He shifts his thighs beneath you, a subtle adjustment that nudges you deeper, but he stops himself from thrusting. "Please," he finally breathes, "just a little—anything you want, just move."

Cater Diamond

Cater's grin is tight, almost manic, as he keeps his hands locked behind his head—a deliberate show of restraint. "Okay, okay, I get it, you're winning," he says, but his voice cracks on the last word. He's trying to play it cool, but his hips have a mind of their own, making tiny, aborted rolls that barely achieve anything. "C'mon, babe, don't torture me like this. I'll do anything—anything you want—just give me something, yeah?"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona's tail flicks sharply behind him, the only sign of his irritation. He's got you straddling his lap, his c*ck buried deep, and he's made it abundantly clear that you're not allowed to move until he says so—except now he's regretting that demand. His claws scrape lightly against your thigh, a warning and a plea. "Herbivore," he growls, low in his throat, "I changed my mind. Move. Now. Or I'll take what I want, and you'll be the one begging to stay still."

Ruggie Buuchi

Ruggie's usual scheming demeanor has crumbled into something almost pathetic. He's gripping your waist with needy fingers, his ears drooping. "Come on, please? I'll do your chores for a week—no, a month! I'll steal you anything you want from the Savanaclaw kitchen." He whimpers when you don't budge, his c*ck pulsing inside your tight entrance. "Just… just one little rock, that's all I'm asking. I'm begging here."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul's composure is a thin veneer, sweat beading at his temples as he keeps his hands folded primly in his own lap—a promise he made not to touch you until you chose to move. "This is… a rather effective negotiation tactic," he says, voice trembling. "I concede. I'll sign any contract, grant any wish. Just… please, won't you give me a single, merciful thrust?"

Jade Leech

Jade's smile is serene, but his eyes are darker than usual, watching you with predatory patience. His hands rest on the floor behind him, steadying himself. "You're quite skilled at this game," he says, his voice a silken whisper. "I must admit, the stillness is… exquisite torture." He shifts his hips just barely, a deliberate display of how much control he's ceding. "But I wonder how long you can resist the temptation to move, when you know exactly what I'll do once you start."

Floyd Leech

Floyd is squirming, his long legs kicking out occasionally as he whines dramatically. "Shrimpy, this isn't fun anymore! I want you to move, move, move!" He wraps his arms around you, trying to pull you closer, but you stay rigid. "If you don't start bouncing soon, I'll squeeze you until you have to move," he threatens, but his tone is more desperate than menacing. "Please? I'll be good, I promise."

Jamil Viper

Jamil's jaw is clenched, his hands fisted at his sides. He'd agreed to this challenge with a smirk, confident he could outlast you. Now he's trembling, barely holding himself back from gripping your hips and slamming you down. "Fine," he hisses through gritted teeth. "You win. I'll do whatever you ask—cook, clean, even bow to your whims. Just move already. I can't take much more of this."

Vil Schoenheit

Vil's expression is a masterpiece of controlled annoyance, but the flush creeping down his neck betrays him. He tilts his chin up, refusing to break his elegant posture. "I must say, this is a rather novel form of torture," he says, voice laced with honey and venom. "You've proven your point. Now, if you would be so kind as to move, I'll ensure your reward is… legendary."

Idia Shroud

Idia's face is a brilliant shade of red, hidden behind his hair as he hunches forward. He hasn't dared to look at you, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. "This is so unfair," he mutters, voice muffled. "You're literally just sitting there and I'm… I'm dying. Ortho's going to find my corpse." He peeks at you through his bangs. "If I promise to play any game you want for a whole year, will you please, please, just twitch or something?"

Malleus Draconia

Malleus's eyes gleam with ancient amusement, but his breathing has turned shallow. He holds perfectly still, a statue of dark power, save for the slight tremor in his hands. "You have a rare talent, little one," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your core. "I have waited centuries for many things, but this moment tests my patience more than any. I will give you the moon if you ask—just grant me the mercy of your movement."

Silver

Silver's head is drooping, his eyes half-lidded—not from sleep, but from the overwhelming haze of need. His hands are loosely resting on your hips, not daring to push. "I… I don't think I can stay still much longer," he murmurs, his voice thick. "It's becoming unbearable. Please, if you have any kindness in your heart, let me feel you move. Just once."

Chenya

Chenya's grin is playful, but his usual mischief has an edge of desperation. He's seated cross-legged, you in his lap, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. "You're really good at this," he says, a hint of a whine in his voice. "Okay, okay, you win. I'll share my secret stash of sweets, I'll let you prank Riddle with me, I'll do anything. Just give me a little wiggle, pretty please?"

Minajeal Tealrajah

Minajeal's regal composure is cracking, a soft flush painting his cheeks as he rests his hands on your knees, not daring to move them higher. His voice is warm, but strained. "You've bested me, it seems," he says with a breathless laugh. "I confess, I'm not accustomed to being so thoroughly undone by stillness. If you would grant me the honor of your movement, I would be eternally grateful—and I promise to return the favor tenfold."

Your back is pressed against a cool, slightly wet, smoothed out rock— body splayed out against the surface while your lower half is forced hovering over the dark blue, salty and sticky, ocean water by a blushing, octopus merman’s tentacles. Your tender skin is warm to the touch, slick and glistening from sweat, sensitive from the overwhelming pleasure. There’s a small puncture on your neck that appeared when Azul bite into the flesh to mark you only to end up accident injecting venom that made you completely paralyzed at the mercy of a needy cecaelia— the lustful, intense, and vulnerable feeling was an after effect of the venom.  

Thick, large, eager, and restless tentacles of Azul wrap around your plush body in a firm grip; thighs, legs, and ankles are wrapped by the slimy appendage as the suckers taste the sweet flavor of your skin. The small, scattered spots on the tentacles change in an unpredictable manner, their color alters between soft lilac, baby blue, and dark purple. The biology of the cecaelia would be quite hypnotizing if you were able to focus on anything.

“Haah—! Fuckk. . A-azul!” You whine out his name in a breathless, broken, loud, and exhausted voice.

You gasp out weakly, squirming lightly from the overwhelming stimulation. . in response, the tentacles around your lower half tightens to keep you from writhing as they kneed and squish at your body. Azul cries out your name when your gooey walls spasming around his thick length, his cheek dusted in a mixture of light lilac and blue. Those greedy hands of his dig into the soft flesh of your hips, thumb pressing into the tender skin of your belly. 

Azul grips onto you tightly as his hip snaps into yours, causing his deliciously thick and long hectocotylus to plunge deep into your drooling hole. With each relentless and rough thrust he does, his length stretches your walls wiide open; it has your eyes rolling back and lips parting to moan out his name in ecstasy. Your boyfriend gazes deeply at you, eyes dilated in pure bliss as he drinks up your fucked-out expressions; eyes rolled back, brows furrowed, cheeks flushed, drool seeping from parted lips, and the slight change in your eyes.

You look beautiful like this. . Your body jolts and shivers in pleasure, gooey walls quivering around his length— helplessly creaming around his hectocotylus until you feel like you’re drowning from overstimulation.

“Ohmygod. .! A- azul —mmhp. . b- babe!” You babble out loudly, sweat covered thighs trembling in his tentacles when azul presses perfectly against your g-spot.

“Haah. . m-my sweet pearl —nghh! D- don’t squeeze me s- so tightly!” Azul whimpers out, tears dripping from his glossy eyes as he babbles out his confession of love to you. . in a very shameless manner.

Another one of his tentacles lifts from the salty water, suctions hovering over the twitching and engorged bundle of nerves above your filled hole.

“Haah—! W- wait. . azul! Ca- can’t take it —nngh! Too biggg” you squeal out loudly, hands attempting to find purchase on his tentacles.

In response, Azul’s tentacles dart to wrap around your wrist.

“Mmhp! N- no, don’t squirm from me, my s- sweet pearl” he cries out, moaning softly at the delicious flavor of your skin melting onto his tongue.

The suction on your clit has you wailing louder than ever,  the poor bud sensitive from how the needy octopus was dragging his thick tongue against the hood— lips wrapping around it to suckle gently until you were gasping out his name. Azul was insatiable, slurping and lapping at your syrupy pussy as if it would save him from his rut. . drunk off the flavor of your addictive flavor. 

“M- my pearl. . pleasepleasepleaseplease” Azul chants out, tentacles wrapping tighter around you as his hectocotylus presses into your gummy walls. . twitching  and throbbing as it leaks inhuman amounts of precum inside your already white- covered walls.

“—please. . lo-love all of me, I beg of you” he whines in a desperate tone, angling his hips to pound into your g-spot until you're losing your breath. 

His cum makes everything sound even more nasty, the wet sloshes and squelches of your pussy as Azul easily slides back into your pussy from the wetness. But it’s too much. . a copious amount of his thick cum dribbles around the base of his hectocotylus, creamy white sliding down the curve of your ass. You’ve both created such a mess, a mixture of mostly his and your cum coating the surface below your body.

“Oohfuck! ‘M c- cumming again! Nnghh!” You wail out, eyes rolling back, back arching as you squirt around his thick length.

You want to squirm so badly, but you can’t, Azul’s venom runs through your blood. . keeping you pliant. He moans out your name, burying himself to the hilt of your velvety walls there’s a pleasurable tingle in your lower half. The grip on your hip tightens as thick ropes of cum shoots into your creamy walls, your stomach looks bloated, the excess cum spilling from your poor, abused hole.

The cecaelia leans in close, effectively trapping you against the ground as he kisses and laps at your marked up neck, hectocotylus still throbbing in your slick walls with need even though you’ve been fucking alll night. 

“Wahh. . haah, on- one more time, my beloved pearl” Azul pants out, slowly pulling his length until he watches his cum bead from your hole, only to push himself to the hilt of your cunt with a wet plapp. 

Azul drives himself slowly into your pussy, hectocotylus dragging against your walls. You murmur out his name, melting from the pleasure as he uses your body. If anyone was to visit the beach at this late hour, they would only hear the wet squelchh and sloshing sound, loud, high pitched moans and whimpers of someone’s name.

₊˚.༄ JADE LEECH

Moray eels actually don’t have an established mating season like octopuses— instead, when the temperature above Coral Sea turns blazing warm, Jade becomes clingy and attached to you

Like moray eels; Jade ensures that he feeds his dear mate more than enough food, preferring to initiate a sweet, dizzying dance with you

Your back arches from the smooth, completely soaked, mossy surface of the grotto—trembling against the ground as your lower half is submerged in the salty ocean water, plush thighs parted wiide open to accommodate the large, transformed eel that’s between it. Your tingles from the sweet abuse of overwhelming pleasure; plush body  covered in deep, bloody bite marks, covered in bruises from the eager and greedy hands of Jade, a mixture of sweat and dried cum coating your tender flesh. You feel as if you tried to fight a deep sea creature, only to lose miserably.

Jade has himself wrapped snuggly around your warm and soft skin, webbed fingers pressed between your connected bodies to roughly rub at the bundle of twitching nerves above your stuffed hole. His fingers are precious and nimble, rolling your puffy clit with the perfect amount of pressure to have you quivering around his length. His lips are pressed against the skin of your neck, hungrily slurping, lapping, and sucking at your tender flesh.

“Haaah—! Nghh! Too muchh, Jade!” You gasp out loudly between broken and breathless moans, gasps, and whimpers of the eel’s name.

His sharp nails dig into your plump hips, eliciting a hiss of pain when blood prickles from the puncture. Jade snaps his hips into yours, driving his thick, long, and deliciously big cock deeper into your gooey walls. With each mean and rough thrust of his hips into yours, an obscure, wet squealchh of your sopping pussy fills the grotto.

Jade sadistically grinds at the helpless expression on your face, thick cock bobbing in your velvety walls— his lips find yours in a passionate and needy manner, long tongue dragging against yours in an eager manner. He ruts deeper into your creaming cunt, faster and deeper— his nimble fingers rubbing slowly, firm circles over your swollen clit until it has your thighs trembling from the overwhelming stimulation. Underneath your body, a pool of cum that’s a mixture of yours and mostly his gets larger and larger from how globs of cum drips from the curve of your ass to the surface below.

In a honeyed voice, he groans out your name when your velvety walls quivering around his thick length, squeezing him so tightly it has his breath hitching. Through hooded and clouded eyes, Jade peers out a blissed out face, grinning when he sees the helpless expression on your face; fat tears dripping from your glossy eyes, swollen lips parted as sweet moans of pleasure leave them, and the delicious peak of your marked up neck from his sharp teeth. . god he could get addictive to the sight of you all pliable for only him. His thick cum, stuffed deep in your pussy, allows him to slip into your cunt with each thrust, a wet slosh echoing throughout the grotto.

“Oh, my sweet pearl” Jade purrs out in that honeyed tongue, his larger form cages you against the mossy ground as the inhuman cock bullies its way in and out of your dripping pussy with a wet sloshh.

“Q- quite the mess you’ve made —mmhp. .” He mutters between velvety groans, webbed hands pressing harder into your clit it has you choking on a moan.  

“Try not to waste my seed, my d- dear. . -haaah” Jade groans out, every thrust had his hips slamming into yours until your thighs ached from being forced apart. 

Jade presses himself harder onto you, burying his face deeper into the space between your shoulder and neck— warm breath fanning on your exposed. You let out a high pitch whine when his sharp teeth digs into the flesh of your neck, blood oozing from the puncture on the neck. He’s quick to drag that slimy, thick, and long tongue against the tender flesh of your neck— lewdly slurping at your skin as your blood coats his lips and neck. 

“Nngh—! F- feels too good! Mmhp. . J- jade!” You gasp out between moans, wailing loudly when his free hands digs into the soft flesh of your thighs.

That heat in your lower belly snaps unexpectedly, white hot heat as you lewdly squirt from the pleasure for the nth time tonight— juices spraying onto his lower stomach. Jade groans out your name from how your gooey walls spasm and tighten around him, hips flushed with yours as his cock bobs and throbs violently. He keeps himself buried deep as thick ropes of cum coats your already whites-covered walls, fat globs of white cum drools from your messy pussy. . dripping onto your ass. 

Jade slowly pulls out, tons of strings of arousal forms between your bodies, slamming his hips back into yours with a wet plap— pushing his cum back into your velvety walls. 

“My sweet pearl —haah. . do not waste my hard work. . ngh” he says simply, setting a pace; slowly pulling out a seeing the way your hole quivers around his inhuman cock before plunging himself back into you, roughly. 

Perhaps if you ignored your boyfriend’s honeyed voice cooing out to you. . begging you to help him with his upcoming rut, you might not have been pliable and overstimulated. After all, moray eels don’t have a scheduled mating season.

₊˚.༄ FLOYD LEECH    

similar to his brother, Floyd courts you in the traditional style a moray eel would; giving you a filling and delicious meal, dancing with you until you feel dizzy, soaking you in all his attention and affection

However, his favorite way to court his shrimpy is by opening his mouth and closing it repeatedly towards you 

Floyd is cruel when it comes to mating, soo eager to finally claim you that it comes out rough and borderline manhandling in his own passionate way

Compared to his brother, he prefers to mark every single inch of your body with his teeth, tongue, nails, and hands— he really gets addicted to how soft and supple your body is compared to all those other guppys in the Coral Sea!

The dark ocean’s cool, salt-laden water clings onto your exposed, flushed, and sensitive flesh— with each gentle wave of water that crashes onto your body has your skin tingling. Your breath is ragged and heavy from exhaustion, desperately trying to catch your breath as your head barely remains above the pitch black surface of the ocean. It’s hard to breathe when your son cries of pleasure interrupts you everytime; loud moans, shrill gasps, honeyed whimpers of Floyd, breathless mewls. 

It’s even harder when a certain moray eel merman seemingly can’t survive a mere second without his lips pressed firmly against yours; the intense flavor of metallic from your blood and salt from the ocean water lingers on Floyd’s lips. . coaxing you to eagerly reciprocate the way his snake-like tongue darting to flick against yours. What was originally supposed to be an exciting beach date with your dear boyfriend led to the cyan colored hair boy becoming more touchy, sweetly aggressive, overwhelming for your full attention. He opens his mouth as wide as he could in a barely concealed excited manner, gifting you the sight of the two rows of pointy teeth.

It was a repeating cycle; he’d unlatch his jaw wiiide, stare at you, close his mouth and pouts when you give him a confused look. . perhaps this was a moray eel trait that someone failed to inform you about. It was until you finally parted your lips to show Floyd your mouth that he instantly brightens up as he coos out your name in a honeyed voice, cackling at that dumbfounded expression on your pretty face. He quickly transform into his natural form, swimming further and further away from the sandy surface— peering at you with an expectant glint in his eyes. 

Within the few seconds of you being in the deep part of the ocean with Floyd, he’s already hungrily pawing and tugging at your swimsuit— the loud rippp of the fabric being torn from greedy hands. His eyes are dilated and clouded with unhidden intense desire— slowly swimming around like a predator stalking its prey. At first, your slick back was pressed against a rough rock that hadn’t appeared above the ocean’s surface— plush thighs parted wiide to allow the needy merman settle between them. . causing a pleasurable ache in your legs.

Those webbed hands of his digs into the soft chub of your thighs, sharp nails poking into your flesh until small dots of scarlet pools from your skin. . eliciting a honeyed gasp from your swollen lips. Floyd’s tongue— long, thick, and sloppy from eagerness drags against your cunt. . parting your syrupy folds. That eager tongue of his presses into your drooling hole, the wet muscle having a kind of its own as it drags against your pussy until you’re dripping a mixture of salvia and arousal. 

Floyd would moan shamelessly into your core, giggling when you tremble from the stimulation of his lips engulfing your buzzing clit— suckling hard until you just squeal out his and loudly. You’ve never seen the eel so excited like this before; he’s determined to drag out every little reaction from you, from the twitch of your hips to the gasp ripped from your lips. He whines into your honeyed folds, addicted, hungry for more of your sweet taste. . tongue flicking, licking, smearing, and dragging along your heat to coax your body to produce more and more of your sweet juices. 

“Mmhp! Shrimpy taste soo sweet!” Floyd giggles out against your puffy clit, grinning ear to ear with his lips and chin glistening from your sticky arousal.

And now, he has his flexible body wrapped firmly around your body— squeezing you tightly as he presses his throbbing cock agaisnt your puffy folds. Floyd ruts his hips back and forth in a dizzying manner, cock dragging and bumping into your poor clit. He’s already reduced you into a shivering, sobbing, and overstimulation mess.

“Ngh! F- Floyd! Haah—! feels goodd. .” You drool out, eyes squinted and clouded in a haze of ecstasy. 

Floyd giggles, smushing his lips against your swollen ones, sharp teeth nipping at the puffy flesh as his tongue darts to drag against yours in a passionate manner. He moans into your lips as his length stretches your drooling hole, the wet squeak muffled by the salty water around yours both. 

“O- oh fuck! To-too muchh!” You gasp out between loud moans, tongue darting to lick at your blooded lips. 

At the feeling of him pressing even deeper into your spasming and creamy hole has you shoveling and squirming from the pleasure.

“Shrimpy is so, so, sooo squirmy!” He giggles, tongue darting to kick a broad strip along your marked up neck. 

In your velvety walls, Floyd’s thick cock throbs and spurts out thick beads of precum into your already white- covered walls— the excess pouring from your stuffed hole and mixing in the sea water. The sweet burn of pleasure felt addictive and amazing, the way his inhuman cock drags and massaged along your gooey walls— the drag of his length in your cunt is heavy, the bulbous tip pounding into your poor g-spot with such force. . it feels amazingly perfect. His cool skin is pressed firmly against yours, sharp scales on his tail digs into your lower half— each rough snap of his hips has water spraying everywhere.

“Ya’ feel g- good? Huh? Huh, sh- shrimpy?” Floyd stutters out, those nails of his digging greedily into your hips before gently scratching find your back until you squeal from the mixture of pain and pleasure.

Weakly, you try to find purchase on his shoulders only for the natural slime substance on his skin to make it hard. . you’re completely dependable on Floyd. With a loud sob of his name, you tremble in his hold as you gush around his shaft for the nth time tonight— creamy walls spasming and quivering around his thick length. 

”haah! Nngh! O- oh fuckk!” You drool out, eyes rolling back. 

Floyd moans out, pressing his lips onto you again, ignoring his you moan out from exhaustion, tongue dragging against the torn flesh of your lips. . happily shoving his tongue to smear against yours— thick and endless ropes of cum shoots into your overstuffed pussy.

˖°༄All work belongs to only me, @/yuuna-iridescent-scales!! Translating, plagiarism, copying, posting on another website, claiming as your work will not be tolerated, instant block  .｡꒰☆꒱ ⋆

੭      ֹ   AUTHOR NOTE    🥥

Hiya hiya, cuties! Sorry for such a late post, I’m on vacation and had such limited wifi I wasn’t able to post ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ alsooo, 240+ followers?? Tysm (˃̵ᴗ˂̵)!!

Also, I wanted to say; please read my rules before requesting and I only use you/your pronouns for reader POV  but have afab anatomy! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ btw, shout out to the random person who gave me enough luck to get a Deuce card(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

You returned to Clementia, exhausted, after another long series of rotten days. Getting yelled at, being belittled, running thankless errands, trying to keep up in classes that you keep missing because you’re going on missions that don’t get you any closer to finding a way to break your curse- it was just too much. You groan as you enter the strange sanctuary that is the defunct dorm you live in, kicking your shoes off haphazardly and nearly tripping over them. Just perfect. You trudged up the stairs to your room and lazily threw your bag on the floor and dropped onto your bed. You need a bath. A nice long, hot bath to wash the awful week you’ve been having away.

A trail of discarded clothes followed you to the bathroom, where you were drawing a brain-meltingly hot bath and adding your favorite bubbles and oils. The inviting scent of tea and lavender already began to soothe your nerves. You slipped into the almost-too-hot water and tried to clear your mind. While the problems did start to fade a little, other concerns worked their way in. Your friends outside Darkwick- how are they? Do they even remember you, or did they get Mesmer matched? Will you even remember anything about them after you turn? You’ve never even really dated before coming to Darkwick. It just never seemed important, but now it’s another item in your long list of regrets. As you let that last item linger, you found yourself wondering what another person would feel like as your hands wandered your body, with one settling on your breast and the other finding its way between your legs.

How different would it feel to have someone else touching your breasts? You shivered as you squeezed your nipple and massaged your breast. You began tracing circles on your clit, imagining all the ways that it might be different to have another person touching you, and the way that they would feel against you. How would their body feel? You slipped your fingers into your fluttering cunt, gasping at the feeling of being filled. You fucked yourself with increasingly frenzied energy, using the heel of your palm to rub your clit as you pumped your fingers in and out. Your mind then started picturing the ghouls- who would you even feel comfortable doing anything like this with? The coil that had been winding in your pussy snapped, throwing you into a pitching and shaking orgasm, and you screamed his name.

Ritsu.

Ritsu Shinjo.

Ritsu? There's no denying that he is very attractive, but he's never given you any sign of being interested in you. He's saved you in some really tight spots, but that doesn't mean he's attracted to you, right? But, now that you're thinking about it, you can't help but remember the time that he protected you during the earth quake in the door to somewhere mission. You know it was at least partially his stigma, but you couldn't help but think of how powerful he felt over you. The tension you felt with his face just inches from yours did give you butterflies. It would have been so easy for him to take advantage of the situation, but he was so careful and respectful.

He never does anything without intention, so thinking about how well planned out an encounter would be with him set your mind buzzing. He would ensure that every... detail... was given attention. You know that his hands can be quite tender, as well. During that last mission... You slipped your fingers slowly back into yourself, mimicking the way he touched your pressure point, but this was having the opposite effect from the way he touched you. Your heart was racing and your muscles tensed as another spring started winding in your belly, Thoughts flashed through your mind faster than you could process. His sharp blue green eyes... The feel of his breath on your face... the warmth of his hands... his soft touch...

You cried his name out loud again as the spring broke, pushing wave after wave of trembling warmth through your body. Your back arched and the shaking in your legs splashed water from your bath. You begged the Ritsu in your head to not stop in increasingly higher pitches, as he continued fucking you in precise and measured movements, voicing his pleasure as he approached his own breaking point. You didn't stop until the Ritsu in your mind had fully taken his pleasure, hips shuddering against yours until he had fully poured himself into you. The Ritsu in your mind left you weak enough to slip further under the water, but not so far that you couldn't breathe.

Once you had recovered enough to have functional limbs, you pulled yourself weakly from the bath and dried carefully, brain still buzzing with thoughts about all of the mystery surrounding him. What does he look like undressed? You've never seen him wearing less than a full outfit, and you've never really touched him aside from small, passing touches. He has to be in decent shape, right? He's a ghoul, after all. There are still variables, but surely he exercised as well. He's not one to let any part of himself be anything less than perfect.

*PING*

You were startled from your musings by the sharp tone telling you had a message. You sighed, dejected, wondering who on earth is texting you and what they needed. You nearly dropped your phone when you saw his name on the screen. Your pulse jumped, feeling guilty for what you had just been thinking about. You knew that he couldn't possibly know what you had been doing, but the guilt still gnawed at your stomach. He had always felt so pure to your, yet you were having very impure thoughts.You shook your head, and took a breath.

"Can you confirm your identity as y/n?

"Yes, this is y/n."

You laughed softly. Who else would it be, silly?

"Thank you for confirming. This is Ritsu Shinjo, Sinostra's representative."

Please meet me in my office in Sinostra in an hour."

"An hour? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I have a matter related to the recent mission that I would like to discuss with you. Please don't be late."

"Got it. I'll be there."

An hour? That will have this discussion very close to the end of the business day, and you're barely going to have time to get yourself presentable before you head over, much less shake off the thoughts whirring in your mind. He's so put-together, and you're going to be barely holding together when you go. You heaved a deep sigh and set about making yourself presentable, trying to clear your mind and prime yourself to be able to look him in the eyes.

You arrived with ten minutes to spare, though your hair was still damp and you hadn't tamed the cowlicks as much as you would have liked. He was looking at some papers on the desk when you arrived, and greeted you before looking up. When he looked up, a mild look of dismay flickered over his face.

"Y/n, the business day has not yet completed. Why do you look like you just came from the bath?"

"Well.... I did," you murmured shyly, "I had finished my classes and needed to unwind a bit."

"I see. Please be mindful of the time going forward."

You blushed deeply and nodded, trying to not think about what else you were doing to unwind. You cleared your throat and turned your attention to the papers on his desk.

"So... you wanted to see me about those?"

"Yes. I was looking over the report and I noticed....." You were trying so hard to focus on his words, but the sound of his voice kept bringing your mind creeping back to other thoughts, and he smelled so good...

"Y/n. Y/n! Are you listening?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Just a little tired. It was a rough day"

He chided you again, but much gentler than usual. He notices everything, so surely he noticed your lack of energy before now. But is that why his tone suddenly softened?

You were once again snapped back to reality by the sound of a device beeping. It was his end-of-day alarm. You weren't really surprised. He did message you really late for business hours. He looked dismayed again, but shuffled the papers into his brief case. "We will have to pick this back up tomorrow."

"Ritsu, wait."

His sharp eyes flicked up to meet yours, and he reminded you that it is after business hours.

"I-I know. This is something, uhm, personal."

You knew that there was no way in hell you could bring something like that up directly. You might be running out of time, but still. At best, you would get an earful about the legal code for harassment or solicitation. When the thought of his hands on your head shimmered in your mind again, you decided to half lie.

"I've been having trouble sleeping since we got back, and I was wondering if you could do that thing again? When you rubbed behind my ears?"

"I don't think that this is the time or place for that, but I can come over to help you sleep tonight. When do you go to bed?"

"Usually around 10, but I have been awake until 1 or 2 lately."

"As my business partner, I would think you would have contacted me sooner for help. I will be at your dorm in the defunct Clementia house at 9:45 tonight to use acupressure to aid in your ability to go to sleep."

You hear him knock on the door at 9:45 sharp. You take a deep breath and open the door, self conscious about the state of the building. You both know that it's not being used a a regular dorm and is badly damaged, but it doesn't make it any less embarrassing to take him through the chapel to your room, which you had been panic cleaning since the moment you returned. This was the first time he had ever been in your room, and you wanted to make a good impression. You even put on your nicest pajamas for his visit.

He pulled out his recorder, making his usual voice notes while guiding you to your bed with a light hand on the small of your back. He had never touched you like that, with intentional softness, instead of it being a side effect, and it made heat pool in your belly. You did your best to keep your breathing steady, hoping that he won't catch on to your ruse, but also hoping that he does and takes it further.

You sat carefully on the edge of your bed, looking quietly at the floor while he put his recorder back in his pocket. You knew your face was red- there was no mistaking what your flaming cheeks meant. His feet appeared in front of you and he called your name softly.

"I need you to look up," he lulled.

You bit your lip and turned your face upward, but you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. His hands trailed lightly over your cheeks and jaw, not quite cupping your face, before settling behind your ears. "Your face is flushed," he whispered, carefully rubbing your pressure points. For the briefest moment, you thought you felt his fingers run through your hair as he supported the back of your head. He must have just been shifting. The massaging was starting to work- your nerves were settling, and you stole the briefest look up at him, only to see that he was watching you, eyes soft. He leaned in, searching your eyes.

"Do I have your permission?"

You murmured yes and nodded, tilting your head slightly. You reached toward him, and paused before touching him. "Can I?" He whispered yes on your lips, and pressed a tender kiss. You carefully, nervously mimicked the way he was holding your head. You sighed, relishing the softness and subtle mint taste of his lips, yet craving more. You threaded your fingers through his silken hair, drawing the softest sigh from him. He dropped to one knee in front of you, and deepened the kiss while wrapping an arm around you, bringing you into a soft embrace.

"I won't to do anything without your permission," he murmured, "You're my only business partner, and I won't damage that.

You sighed and smiled. "I'll tell you if I don't want to do something, but I have something to tell you before anything else. It's a little embarrassing though."

"You don't have to be embarrassed with me." He pulled away slightly, fixing his aquamarine eyes on yours and caressed your face.

"Well... uhm, I've never had a boyfriend or a.... business partner," you huffed a small nervous laugh, "So I don't really know what to do..." You nervously played with his hair as you spoke, the soft texture soothing you slightly.

"Do you mean to say that you have no sexual experience?"

You felt your face flame up at his direct question. "Ye-es," you said while trying to look down, but he held your face up toward him, "This is embarrassing, but that was actually my first kiss. I-I thought I should tell you, in case those details make any difference," you breathed, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"I'm honored that you trust me with this information," he whispered, brushing his lips over yours. "Am I correct to assume that you want to engage in sexual activity with me?"

"Y-yes," you murmured shakily, "But can we not record this? Please?"

For the first time since you met, he agreed to turn his recorder off. "Since this is a very sensitive personal interaction, we can keep this off the record."

You sighed your thanks, and made a soft, high pitched sound when he laid you back on the bed and laid over you, not unlike the way he did during the earthquake. While the word nervous didn't cover the way you felt by a mile, you felt so safe with him, knowing that he has protected you in the past, and is continuing to do so in this vulnerable moment. He lowered himself slightly, fully pressing his body against yours. His body was hard, but the weight and warmth stirred the butterflies residing in your stomach and sent jolts of energy to your core.

He cradled your face, brushing his thumb on your cheek as he kissed your neck. The softness of his breath and lips already had your mind buzzing. You laced the fingers of one hand into his hair while running the other up and down his back. The hand that had been cradling your face traveled down your body and settled on your waist, giving him leverage enough to grind on you. You gasped at the realization that he was already hard and the way it felt when he pressed against your heat. You sighed his name and wrapped a leg around him. He huffed softly and ground down into you again, locking the sound you made in his memory. He may have heard your voice more than anyone, but no one has ever heard these sounds from you.

He lifted and carried you further into your bed. You hadn't realized that the way your legs were hanging over was starting to make them fall asleep until he moved you. After releasing you back onto the mattress, he continued supporting his weight with one arm, and his free hand began exploring your body, memorizing every curve and plane as it did. When his hand settled on your breast, thumb brushing back and forth over your hardening nipple, you moaned softly into his kiss. You felt him smile before increasing the intensity of his touch and ground against you. Your back arched and you cried his name, fingers curling in his hair and on his back.

"May I take your shirt off?" he asked, the slightest tremor hiding in his voice. You nodded and lifted your arms so he could pull it over you. "Will you take yours off, too?" His face flushed for a brief moment before he began to release the buttons holding his shirt closed.

You could never have imagined how beautiful he was under his perfectly pressed uniform. He was muscular, lean and well defined, like you might see on a professional dancer. His skin was smooth, with an even tone over every part you could see. Not a single blemish, bruise, or scar in sight- absolutely flawless. You blushed heavily when you realized that he was looking at you with the same measure of awe, drinking the sight of you in and etching it in his mind forever.

Suddenly feeling more self-conscious than you ever had, you opened your arms to him, wanting him to be close to you instead of looking at you. When he returned to your arms, he laced the fingers on one hand with yours and returned the other to your breast. He pressed his lips against yours in a heated kiss. You gasped, and he used that as an opportunity to slip his tongue just inside your mouth, lightly sliding it over the tip over yours. You opened your mouth further, allowing you to better explore each other's tongues and mouths. You inhaled sharply when he squeezed your nipple harder and pressed his body harder to yours.

His hand released your breast and trailed down to your thigh and he began massaging your inner thigh with his thumb. "He's so close," your brain buzzed with your heart in your throat. You opened your leg a little further to give him better access, but his hand stayed in the same place. He dragged his lips over your cheek and softly bit your ear. "Permission?" he breathed thickly, no longer able to hide the arousal seeping in. You sighed a throaty yes, and he shifted his weight so he could run his hand over your wet core. Your legs trembled around him, and you squeaked a high pitch moan when he started rubbing his hand over your clit.

After a few moments, he brought his hand to the waist band of your pajamas and looked at you, silently asking permission. You nodded bashfully and bit your lip, knowing that he was about to blow all of your fantasies out of the water. He deftly slipped his fingers into your folds, settling right over your clit, drawing firmer circles. You moaned his name sharply, with a back arch that was limited by how much he was pressed down on you, and you gripped tightly on his back. He held your other hand, steadying you as he shook your body with new sensations.

He was already drawing you close to cumming, winding the spring tighter with each successive circle. Your breathing turned to pants and moans against his lips and your legs shook with the tension that was threatening to break at any second. When he slipped two fingers inside, using the heel of his hand to rub your throbbing clit, the coil snapped, and the world vanished.

You were plunged into a sea of ecstasy, waves crashing over you every time he pumped his fingers into your clenching pussy. You gripped his hand hard and buried your face in the crook of his neck with your free hand tightly around his shoulder. You were overwhelmed by the power of the waves hitting you, each crash shooting pulse after pulse of starlight through your body. It was so much, and you let out a sob soft in spite of yourself. He paused, evaluating whether he should stop completely until he could ask for further permission. You choked into his shoulder, "Don't stop," when you felt him pause.

When the last wave finally subsided, Ritsu pulled his fingers out of you, being careful to not touch your oversensitive clit. He pulled you into another tight embrace, kissing you like it would be the last time he ever touched another human being. He kissed you like a starved man having a buffet placed in front of him, and ground his hips into you, a small sound slipping from his lips. Though your brain was still in a fog, you knew that you wanted to touch him as well. You ran your fingers down his back and side, stopping when you reached the top of his pants, as best you could reach the front. "'S okay?"

He replied by rolling himself enough for you to be able to cup his bulge and rub the length through his pants. You locked your eyes on his, it now being your turn to seek silent permission, and loosened his belt and popped the button before slowly pulling his zipper down. You held his eyes as your fingers played at the waistband of his underwear, waiting for his approval to touch him directly, He pulled you into a heated kiss, and his breath shuddered when your hand made contact.

He was rock hard, occasionally twitching as you clumsily pumped your hand over his length. He whispered, "Like this," and took your hand, guiding it up and down. You felt a little embarrassed that your lack of skill was so obvious, but the way he guided you was so soft that the discomfort soon faded, and you fell into a steady rhythm that had him panting against your neck. "Y/n, you learn so well." It was an odd thing to say out of context, but you knew it was high praise from him, and the butterflies in your stomach danced.

You knew he had to be getting close, with the way his muscles were flexing and his breathing getting shaky. He turned your face to his, locking you in a kiss as he groaned just before he tipped over the edge. His hips shuddered and thrust into your hand as ropes shot over your stomach and his cock throbbed in your hand. You kept stroking him, not really knowing what to do when he finished. He laid his hand over yours, and in a stuttering whisper, told you that you can stop when ejaculation ceases. You almost giggled at how textbook-like he sounded while sweating lightly and his cum all over your belly, but managed to catch it before it got out.

You laid quietly together, a tangle of limbs and subdued breathing, occasionally kissing softly in the afterglow of your mutual orgasms. He curled closely around you, careful to neither tip you nor drag a limb through the mess he had made on your stomach. After he had had some time to regain his bearings, he asked where you keep your towels. You gestured vaguely toward an cabinet in the corner, your brain still buzzing from the events of the night so far. He returned and carefully cleaned the small puddle away.

After cleaning you up, he kissed a trail from your stomach, to your neck, and finally settling on your lips, placing a sensual kiss as his hand began wandering again. His fingers slipped past the boundary of your pants again, but this time hooking his fingers to pull them away. "Consent?" You huffed a tiny giggle through the fog and answered yes. You lifted your hips to help him, but had a slight startle in your brain when you realized that your light was still on, and you weren't sure that you wanted him to see you completely undressed under full light.

"Ritsu, wait."

He froze, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong.

"C-can we turn the light off? I feel really nervous right now."

"It will be harder for me to see your reactions with the light off."

"A lot of light actually comes in from the window. The light in here is just... too much."

He nodded and pulled the light chain., plunging the room into moon light. He asked if that was okay, and if you wanted to continue. You whispered yes and lifted your hips again and he slipped your pants the rest of the way off. "Will you take yours off too, please?" He hummed and you heard fabric rustling, followed by the sound of his belt hitting the floor. The cool moon light drifting in through the window made his skin look like the finest porcelain and somehow illuminated his eyes, despite it being so much darker. The realization that you were both fully undressed and within arm's reach of each other hit you like a lightning bolt, making a knot twist in your stomach as the lightning jolted down to your core.

He knelt on the floor at the edge of your bed, situating himself between your legs. He first kissed both of your knees, then kissed his way up your thighs, alternating sides as he trailed a path toward your core. You whimpered when he paused at the tops of your inner thighs, just before your heat. "Yes?" he whispered, his breath teasing over your wetness.

"Um, are you sure you want to? What if I'm... gross?"

"You won't be, but I won't do it if you don't want me to. I need your permission," he breathed with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Ah, uhmm," you murmured with a tremble, "O-okay. Y-yes."

He pressed a kiss on your slit, then slipped his tongue between your folds. You inhaled sharply when the soft warmth of of his tongue circled your clit, a warm, tingling wave shimmering its way through your body. "R-ritsu," you moaned softly, "That's- ah- ah." He hummed and rubbed his fingers over your entrance, wetting them before sliding them in and curving them onto your soft spot. The shimmering heat he was building in your pussy was concentrating rapidly. Your thighs shook violently and you twisted your hands in your sheets, fighting to stay still as the heat reached critical mass. Your breaths were coming in short, sharp panting moans, with you chattering his name between moans.

The star exploded, and filled your body with heat and light. Your thighs clamped around Ritsu's head and you curled your fingers in his hair. You babbled nearly incoherent praises in between little shrieks. Your back pitched and arched, and he kept pushing the aftershocks out from your pussy, clenching hard around his skilled fingers as his tongue continued its light dance over your throbbing clit. His touch softened as you approached overstimulation, extending the waves as long as you could handle it. When the pulses stopped and you twitched at every touch, he stopped and kissed his way up your body.

He laid on you, bodies fully pressed together and he kissed your forehead. "Let's turn a bit," he murmured softly on your neck, "We're both about halfway off the bed." Though you were still in the afterglow, your stomach lurched when it clicked why being half off the bed was a problem. You re-positioned together, him settling between your legs and the tip of his cock kissing your entrance. You whimpered at him, nervous at how close he was. You knew he wouldn't just go for it, but you were still unnerved. Ritsu murmured comforting words on your lips in between soft, emotion filled kisses. He traced a hand down one side of your body and held your other hand.

"You haven't consented. You have my word that I will never do that without your express permission," he crooned, "But I can adjust my position if it will make you more comfortable." You whimpered again, caught between feeling silly and relieved. You knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Ritsu would never, ever violate your trust like that, but your nerves were twisted well past the point of logic. "We can stop, if you don't want to proceed. You're not obligated." Hearing Ritsu speaking in his more hard logic and rules approach was ironically setting your mind at ease. Here you are, in a very emotional situation, and the emotionally removed legalese was somehow what you needed to calm down.

"I-it's okay. I want to. I-I'm just scared," you sobbed softly, "They say it hurts the first time."

"A large part of that is not being prepared properly and being nervous. Your muscles tighten when you're nervous, but I have prepared you as much as possible to offset it," he whispered in your ear.

"C-can we just kiss a while?"

He responded by cradling your face with his free hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek and squeezing your other hand. You felt your nerves start to calm as he covered you with soft, tender kisses while he rubbed his thumb over the pressure point behind your ear.

"Ritsu," you whispered thickly against his neck, "I think I'm okay now."

"Is that permission?"

"Y-yes."

You tried to stay relaxed and keep breathing as he rubbed himself between your folds, wetting himself as much as possible before making the first small push.

He eased his way in in a series of small thrusts, slowly opening you. You hissed softly with each new depth, the stretch burning with every increment. When he finally bottomed out, he stayed still to allow your body some time to get used to the new feeling. You had never been so grateful for his patience as you were right now. He entered you slowly and carefully, and checked on you at the bottom of each push. You wrapped one arm tightly around him, continuing to hold is hand with the other, and buried your face in the crook of his neck, trying to hide the little sobs threatening to escape.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

"Mhmm."

"You're crying."

"It's just a lot. I need a minute."

"Take your time," he cooed, squeezing your hand and kissing your forehead.

After some time to breathe, you sighed that you were ready for him to move a little. He slipped in and out in short thrusts, hitting your soft spots. You murmured his name in a shaky tone and rocked your hips against his, the pain from the stretch giving way to a deliciously warm friction that shimmered like the heat rising from a sandy beach in July. He let ran his hand down your side and pulled your leg upward, pressing it nearly to your chest. "Wrap your other leg around my waist," he groaned.

You cried his name sharply when he bottomed out and rolled his hips, completely filling you and kissing every soft spot in your core. You squeezed his hand and coiled your fingers in his hair. A light sheen of sweat had broken over both of you, the shimmering heat building between you as you rocked and rubbed your bodies in an increasingly heated rhythm. Ritsu crashed his lips into yours with such need that it bordered on frantic and pushed your mouth open, greedily tangling his tongue with yours.

Each time he bottomed out, it was as though he was pressing sparkling lights through your body, starting in your heat and shimmering outward. The glittering light was building in your core, and your walls were gripping him tighter and tighter as the lights started resesembling sparks emanating from a star, threatening to explode at any moment.

"Rit-su- I- ah-" you cried, tears fattening at the corners or your eyes as they rolled back. The sensation was too much. The pleasure had overtaken you. Every part of him filled your mind. You squeezed his hand like your life depended on it, and he carefully squeezed yours back. Every cell and nerve in your body burned with light.

The star went supernova.

For a flicker of a second, your vision went sparkling white and your ears were ringing before the ringing became your cries for him, a voice that only he would know, and the white hot sparks flew through every inch of your body. Your entire body tensed and flexed around him as he pulled waves and glittering pulses of heat and light from your core. He was drawing every ounce of energy from your body and firing it in shockwaves from your pussy. You were well past your breaking point, you were blissed and fucked out, but he wasn’t finished quite yet.

As he chased his own pleasure he managed to summon another smaller, shimmering orgasm from you, but as it hit, you heard his voice breaking through the curtain of light.

“Y/n, I’m going to- Where?”

“Anywhere,” you cried against his lips just before he crashed his into yours. He buried his cock a deep as it would go and moaned your name in a thick, deep tone. His hips shuddered and thrust into you as he continued to chase his pleasure in your body. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, pulsing in rhythm with each bottom. After he came, his body began to settle and weaken over you. He continued holding your hand, though looser now, and trailed his thumb lightly back and forth. You panted and sighed together as you returned to earth. After several minutes of recovering and basking in the warmth of each other’s touch, he rolled off to your side and drew you into a deep embrace. He released your hand, opting to stroke your cheek with the same light touch that he had used on that night in the castle.

You kissed his neck, drawing a soft groan and a squeeze.

“Ritsu?”

“Hmm?”

You were surprised by his answer- just a tone, not a sentence. “What does this do to our business partnership?” you asked, unsure about your shared future.

He sighed softly and kissed your forehead. “I think it strengthens it.” And then he whispered something that warmed your heart beyond explanation:

“You’re the only business partner I ever want.”

You returned to Clementia, exhausted, after another long series of rotten days. Getting yelled at, being belittled, running thankless errands, trying to keep up in classes that you keep missing because you’re going on missions that don’t get you any closer to finding a way to break your curse- it was just too much. You groan as you enter the strange sanctuary that is the defunct dorm you live in, kicking your shoes off haphazardly and nearly tripping over them. Just perfect. You trudged up the stairs to your room and lazily threw your bag on the floor and dropped onto your bed. You need a bath. A nice long, hot bath to wash the awful week you’ve been having away.

A trail of discarded clothes followed you to the bathroom, where you were drawing a brain-meltingly hot bath and adding your favorite bubbles and oils. The inviting scent of tea and lavender already began to soothe your nerves. You slipped into the almost-too-hot water and tried to clear your mind. While the problems did start to fade a little, other concerns worked their way in. Your friends outside Darkwick- how are they? Do they even remember you, or did they get Mesmer matched? Will you even remember anything about them after you turn? You’ve never even really dated before coming to Darkwick. It just never seemed important, but now it’s another item in your long list of regrets. As you let that last item linger, you found yourself wondering what another person would feel like as your hands wandered your body, with one settling on your breast and the other finding its way between your legs.

How different would it feel to have someone else touching your breasts? You shivered as you squeezed your nipple and massaged your breast. You began tracing circles on your clit, imagining all the ways that it might be different to have another person touching you, and the way that they would feel against you. How would their body feel? You slipped your fingers into your fluttering cunt, gasping at the feeling of being filled. You fucked yourself with increasingly frenzied energy, using the heel of your palm to rub your clit as you pumped your fingers in and out. Your mind then started picturing the ghouls- who would you even feel comfortable doing anything like this with? The coil that had been winding in your pussy snapped, throwing you into a pitching and shaking orgasm, and you screamed his name.

Sho.

Sho Haizono.

You'd be lying if you said that you weren't into him, even if he did nearly hit you with Bonnie the first time you met. That smile that always made you face feel a little warm no matter how many times he flashed it at you, and the way your knees go weak any time he accidentally brushes your hand when he's handing you something. He's been really sweet, in a teasing kind of way, ever since you got to know each other, and it does seem like his eyes linger a little longer than they had when you first met. His sparkling sapphire eyes. Your pulse quickened again at the notion of those playful eyes looking over your naked form, taking you in like you were a fine dish that he couldn't wait to taste. But what does he taste like?

He always smells clean somehow, even when you saw him right after he leaves the truck or working out. There is something pleasantly musky on him after the workout though, something that always made you quiver in a way you could never quantify. It would be so easy for him to bend you over the counter in the truck. You've helped him in there between classes many times, when the truck was closed, no one would know if... You slipped your fingers inside yourself again, inhaling sharply. You pictured what he looks like- you know he's fairly muscular, having seen a him right after he finished working out. Running your hands over his chest and back must be- your heat clenched around your fingers that suddenly felt inadequate. His large hands sinking into your hips as he fucked you.... the way his breath would feel on your neck, his voice soft in your ear. Your back arched as you reached the tipping point.

And you broke. You screamed his name again, vigorously fucking yourself to thoughts of being bent over his counter with him whispering filthy things in your ear as he railed you, chasing his own end. Each time you pumped your fingers, it made you see stars, and you heard his voice in your mind. "Oh, senpai. Just like that." You screamed his name again before you sunk into the water up to your chin, panting and quivering. Your brain buzzed with his voice and feelings of bliss.

*PING*

You were snapped out of your daydreaming by the dreaded sound of your infernal phone. "Who the fuck wants what the fuck now?" you screamed internally. You swallowed hard. It was Sho. Please, please don't have been standing outside. Please don't have just heard me screaming your name. Please just let it be awkward coincidence. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

When you saw that it was asking for help at the truck, you nearly cried with relief. He hadn't heard. He didn't know. But how in the world are you going to be able to work next to him in the truck, having just fucked yourself to thoughts about him fucking you on the counter in there?

When you arrived at the truck, you tried your hardest to act normally, but every time you looked at him, your face grew hot and your walls clenched around nothing, wishing for all the world that it was him. You kept catching whiffs of him and his clean, slightly soapy scent, and he was lightly sweating from the heat in the truck. "Breathe, you nutjob," you scolded yourself, "He is your friend. Don't be weird."

"Senpai, are you okay? Your face is bright red and your heart is racing."

"Y-yeah, the heat is g-getting to me is all."

"Ah, I'm working you too hard" he teased, and handed you a drink from the refrigerator behind him. "Working you." You opened it and took several long sips, hoping to use the cold to settle yourself down while you finished helping him with the prep work. It apparently didn't work, as he took you by the shoulders and made you look at him. His touch was electric, even through your uniform, and you prayed to all things that he couldn't tell what was really going on with you. "Hey, no offense, you're looking really off. Sit down for a few minutes. I can take care of the rest of this."

It might have been a combination of the heat and your heat, but the words started tumbling from your mouth. "Sho, I'm running out of time before the curse takes over, andI'veneverhadtime-" Sho cut you off with a smile and "Easy, senpai. One thing at a time. What's up?'

You took a deep hitching breath and began, "I don't have a lot of time left..." He half nodded and fixed his eyes on yours. "And... this is so embarrassing... I've never had a boyfriend." Another hitching breath and a few tears. Without thinking, he gently wiped them away with his thumbs and nodded at you to continue. "Well.... I don't have enough time to have a relationship.... but..." a full sob cut you off, and you turned your face down, trying to hide your tears and humiliation. "Senpai," he called softly, lifting your face with a gentle hand, "What do you need me to do? How do I help?" You managed to choke out that you want to at least try the physical parts of a relationship before it's too late. He cupped your cheeks and leaned toward you, close enough to feel his breath on your lips.

"This?"

You murmured a quivering yes and tilted your head slightly to meet his lips. His lips were so soft on yours, and he tasted slightly sweet. He pushed your mouth open, exploring it with his tongue, his hands now cradling the back of your head. Your arms circled his waist and you ran your fingers up and down his back. A moan escaped you, and he huffed a little laugh.

"Senpai, did you just moan?" Your face had never felt so hot, and you wished that the earth would swallow you. You started to look away again, trying to hide your almost certainly beet red face. He caught it and kissed you softly again, "It was cute. But if you want to do this, maybe not here? You never know who's listening." That last sentence came with a light eyeroll and a playful smile. "I'd like to do something special, though. Give me a few days to get things together for it?" You nodded, a little confused. "We'll have to get together at your place. Too many ears at mine." Another playful grin. "I'll text you as soon as I have everything ready." He pressed you with another soft, passionate kiss, this time pulling your entire body tight against his. Your heat felt like he just dumped gasoline on the fire, and it pulsed when you realized that he was partially hard.

Over the next few days, the two of you slipped away to make out every chance you got. Neither of you came during any of your little trysts, so you had to sneak away afterward to finish yourself off just to function. Leo made an offhand comment to you about the way Sho keeps looking at you, probably trying to snoop, but you managed to play it off with a quip that it's nothing, and he's only mad because Sho doesn't look at him that way. Whether he bought it or not was unclear, but Leo didn't bring it up again.

After those few slow, yet thrilling, days, Sho texted you.

"Hey, I have everything. Are you free tonight?"

"Hey, Sho! Yeah, I'm free any time after 4."

"Great, I'll meet you then."

Your stomach lurched and all the emotions hit you at once. You've been painfully aroused for days, very nervous, very excited, a weird little bit of sad that you couldn't explain, and you had no idea how to process any of it. You paced back and forth in the chapel, shaking your hands and trying to breathe yourself into something resembling normal. You jumped with a squeak when you heard him knock on the door.

He had several bags in his hands, with his roguish smile playing on his lips. "I had to hide this stuff in the truck so no snoops would figure out that something is up." You giggled nervously and let him in, and locked the door behind him. "K-keeping the snoops away," you said with another nervous laugh when he shot you a teasing look. He leaned in and kissed you, flicking his tongue against yours.

"Where's your kitchen?

You led him to the small kitchen off the chapel, apologizing for the lack of facilities. He kissed your cheek and told you to relax. "It's better than the one in Vagastrom. Here, take this," he said, handing you a sealed paper bag, "It's for later." You held the mystery bag, confused, but decided to not question it. He told you to sit down, and he started bustling around the kitchen. The two of you carried on fairly normal coversations- classes, missions, favorite things. Just... normal. It did a lot toward setting your mind at ease and distracting you from your nerves about later on. Before long, the scent of his cooking tickled your nose.

"Sho, that smells fantastic. What is it?"

"It's something I came up with. It's chicken and vegetables in a light sauce. I thought I'd make something special and that wouldn't sit heavily on the stomach. Y'know, something that doesn't weigh you down." You were really touched by his thoughtfulness, but the round about reminder of the plans for later made your stomach flip. "I really appreciate you doing all of this. It's very sweet." "It's nothing, senpai. Just wanted to do something special for you." You blushed and felt tears prickle your eyes. He really is so sweet, whether he'll admit it or not.

After a few more minutes, he brought two plates to the table. It looked amazing, and he obviously put effort into plating. "Wow, Sho!" You looked at him with amazement, and he smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not a big deal," he said with another crooked smile. He leaned across the table and gave you another kiss before telling you to eat before it gets cold.

It was easily one of the best meals you had ever eaten in your life, and you told him as much. "We haven't had dessert yet," he grinned. He took the mystery bag to the counter and plated something up. You were confused when he returned with only one fork. He set the plate in front of you and pulled his chair over to your side of the table. He carefully took a forkful of the decadent looking dessert and held it to your lips. "Here," he whispered thickly, "have a bite."

It was every bit as decadent as it looked, and it melted in your mouth. He smiled at your obvious enjoyment and waited until you finished the bite. You looked at him with slight confusion, "Sho, aren't you-" He cut you off with a kiss, tasting it on your lips. "I thought it might taste better this way." The two of you repeated this several times, each time the kiss lasting longer, and getting more insistent and heated. A soft moan slipped from your lips, and he slipped his fingers into your hair and around the back of your head. You heard the fork clatter to the plate somewhere in the distance, and he put his arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. He wrapped his arms tight around you, running his hands up and down over your back before settling on your ass. You ground your hips down on his, pulling a sigh from both of you. "Let's take this to your room, senpai." You hummed nervously, and he lifted you with one arm before retrieving the mystery bag, and started up the stairs.

By the time you got to your room, both of your shirts were unbuttoned, and you were kissing his neck. He carelessly put the bag on your nightstand before falling into bed with you, now locked into a heated, passionate kiss. Both of you were panting and running your hands all over each other, and he was grinding his hard cock against your already wet panties, further wetting them with your juices. You started to pull his shirt away from his shoulders, when he told you to wait. "I have a surprise first," he whispered on your lips, flashing that playful smile.

He rose from where the two of you were lying and reached into the mystery bag and pulled out two small bottles. "They're flavored massage oils. I thought it might be a nice way to start." He pulled your shirt off and dripped several drops down your torso. He dragged his hands down your body, and pressed them into soft massaging movements. He cupped his hands on your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and with a lively glint, slowly traced his tongue over your hardened nipple. You gasped loudly and wrapped your hands around his shoulders. He huffed and softly sucked it while one hand traveled down your body, slipping just under your skirt and massaged your inner thigh.

He caught your eyes, seeking your permission before proceeding. You bit your lip, feeling your nerves begin to burn and your muscles tremble. You nodded a tiny yes and tried to calm yourself. He won't hurt you if he can help it. He's always been good to you. His hand rubbed lightly over your pulsing heat, not yet breaching your panties. Sho returned to your face to kiss you, pushing your mouth open and eagerly exploring it. He straddled your leg, grinding on your thigh while panting softly. He pushed your panties aside and slipped his fingers between your folds, skillfully skimming over your clit before settling into light circles on it.

You moaned sharply on his lips, arching your back. He started kissing your neck, breathing hard against your neck and ear. He huffed and hooked his fingers on your panties and pulled them down as far as he could from his position. "These need to go," he groaned. He pulled your panties off, discarding them somewhere on the floor and gave his shirt the same treatment. "Let's get rid of this," he said, tugging your skirt off. He kissed his way up your leg, all the while looking at you with a playful glimmer in his eyes. Sho gently pushed your legs apart, continuing the kiss trail up the your soaking wet core. You murmured a nervous sound and started to sit up. He placed a soft hand on your belly and told you to relax. "What if I taste bad?" "You'll taste good. This will help prep you." A knot twisted in your stomach at the reminder of why he was there.

Sho pressed a kiss on your clit before he rolled his tongue over it. You moaned a high pitch chatter and twisted your fingers in his hair. It was softer than you expected. He hummed an amused tone and flicked his tongue several times. Your back arched involuntarily and your thighs shook as he continued the dance. You fully screamed when he slipped his fingers into you, curling his fingers on your g spot. He was already building the tension and heat in your belly. Your fantasies paled in comparison to what he was creating in you. The way his fingers hit your soft spot so much better than your fingers could reach. The way he was kissing and licking your clit was like nothing you had ever experienced. "F-fuck, Sho...so good... ah... I'm gonna..." It was everything you could do to get the words out, and he hummed at you in that same amused tone.

Your vision went white and your ears were ringing. Your hands twisted tighter in his hair, and your legs spasmed and shook over his shoulders. The way he was touching you was electric, and he was sending wave after wave of sparks and light through your body. It was apparent that he was enjoying this almost as much as you, if his moans and hard breathing were anything to go by. While he was working you over, he had loosened his pants and had been rubbing himself in his own desire. Once you were fully blissed out, he rejoined you in the bed and kissed you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and while it was unusual, it wasn't bad. "Told you that you would taste good," he said with a smirk.

You sighed contentedly, and turned so you could press yourself to him. It was only then that you realized that his pants were partially off, and you actually saw his cock. It was a little large, both thicker and longer than average, but no so much so that it scared you. "I want to see what you taste like," you hummed shyly, "Can I?" For the first time in the entire time you had known him, his cheeks turned slightly pink. He cupped your cheek and stared into your eyes, looking almost confused. "You want to?" You hummed and trailed your fingers over his chest and stomach, enjoying the feel of his tensing muscles. You wrapped your trembling hand around him, and he inhaled sharply when you pumped your hand up and down over his length. "Let me get these off," he breathed, gesturing to his pants.

After finishing undressing, Sho laid back on your bed, lying tensely on your pillow. You kissed him and resumed stroking him, pulling soft groans from his throat in between sharp inhales. You pulled back from his face slightly with a nervous huff, and started kissing your way down from his neck. Just before you reached the lowest part of his stomach, he caught your chin with a gentle hand and turned you up to face him. "You're sure? You don't have to." You bit your lip and nodded, curious where this shy Sho has been hiding. He never seemed anything less than confident, cocky even, so this was new. You held his eyes and gave the head a few little licks to test the waters.

You gave a few longer licks from the base to the tip, and felt just bold enough to take the head in your mouth. His arms shot up behind his head, gripping your pillow tightly as his eyes rolled back. His breath shuddered and he groaned loudly, "Sen- y/n, that's- ha- I can't- ah- last- hold on." He pulled your face away, his cock leaving your mouth with a pop. "I can't last long like that. I don't want to finish too soon." You smiled, your turn for mischievous looks, and told him that you have all night. "I'll try to tell you before. I cum a lot. I don't want to surprise you." You grinned and licked him from base to tip, and took him as far into your mouth as you could. Sho fell hard back onto your pillow, a loud sigh, tinged with a deep moan, escaped his lips.

As you slowly bobbed your head up and down, being careful to not hit your throat and gag, you watched as he fought to stay still. All of his muscles tensed and strained, his hands pulled and tore at all parts of your bedding as his tension built. His breath came in rasping moans and a light sweat broke over his entire body. You weren't sure if it was a good idea, but you reached for his hand and placed it on the back of your head. His hand guided your head only briefly before re-grabbing your sheets. "Can't do that- uh- ha-ah! 'M bout to!" You tried to ready yourself for whatever "a lot" meant.

You weren't ready. He involuntarily thrust his hips upward, nearly hitting your gag reflex, when it hit him. You were doing your best to swallow it as he shot one thick roped after another, cock throbbing in with each, but there was so much that it still ran out of your mouth and onto his lap. You still had a small mouthful when he pulled your face away from his softening cock. He was breathing hard and twitching. "Ha, uh, you can spit it out," he panted, "It's a lot." You tried to discretely spit it into your bedside trashcan, but it was still sticky and wet sounding. You were dismayed to see just how much had gotten past you, and started hunting around for something to wipe it away with. You found a clean towel and approached the bed. "It's fine, just leave it for now." He opened his arms, gesturing you to come lie with him.

Once you were settled into his arms, he kissed you deeply and ran his fingers softly through your hair. "Sho, I haven't brushed my teeth yet," you tried to protest. "Can't ask you to put it in your mouth if I'm not willing to taste it, too." The two of you laid there for a time, basking in your shared afterglow and the way your bodies felt together. After a while, Sho shifted slightly in the bed and huffed. "Still got that towel nearby?" You handed it to him, and he cleaned his front before having you sit up. "Let's put this under us."

You stomach clenched again when he told you to lie on your stomach. "I-I want to, you know, be f-facing you when..." you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. "I won't do it until you want me to, I promise," he crooned, "Now lie down." You settled in the way he told you, and several cold drops fell over your back. Sho carefully worked the oil into your skin, occasionally kissing and licking the area that he was massaging. It was surprising how something could be so arousing and relaxing at the same time. When he shifted to work on different parts of your back and waist, his cock would brush over your skin, though you couldn't tell if it was on purpose. What you could tell from those brushes was that he was hard again.

When he began working his way down your legs, his touches started becoming more insistent, regardless of his attempt to contain his own desire. He pushed your legs apart, working your inner thighs, but also occasionally swiping a thumb or finger over your core. You moaned loudly at one contact, spurring him to start massaging your clit. His hands were burning hot, and the heat of his hands was compounding that fire he was starting to build inside you. You whined and arched your back, giving him better access to your entrance. You cried loudly when he slipped a long finger into your cunt, walls squeezing over him, but yearning for more. "You're so beautiful," he said in a hushed tone. "Sho-o... I want to." You were embarrassed to say it out loud, but he did say that he wouldn't do it until you told him.

Once you had rolled onto your back, he shifted you to be in the center of the bed. He parted your thighs with his own, you grinding on one another's. Sho fixed his sapphire eyes, pupils blown, on yours and lightly caressed your cheek. "You're shaking really bad. You sure? No pressure." You bit your quivering lip and nodded before pulling him into a heated kiss. You felt him rubbing himself over your core, making your legs twitch and your stomach knot up. "He looked into your eyes again, "You positive?" You nodded, tears in your eyes, and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

"I'll be gentle."

True to his word, he was very slow and careful as he worked his way in with small, incremental thrusts, going just a little deeper with each. He stopped several times, checking on you and making sure that you wanted to keep going. You nodded each time, squeezing your arms tighter around him. The stretch still burned immensely, and you still ended up burying your face in his shoulder to hide the sobs that kept escaping your throat. When he finally bottomed out, he stopped and waited for you to calm down. "You okay?" he whispered softly against your cheek. You nodded, tears still rolling down your cheeks. "Just need a minute. It's a lot." He kissed your forehead tenderly before pressing his against it.

While he waited for you, he kissed all over your face and neck and ran his hands up and down your sides, occasionally sinking his fingers into the soft flesh or your hips and thighs or grasping your ass. As your body adjusted to being filled like this, you were able to loosen your arms so that your hands could wander as well. Your ability to move was pretty minimal, but you were able to move just enough to slowly rock your hips under him. His body stiffened slightly in an effort to control his movements as you carefully slid up and down his length. "Sho, you feel really good," you murmured shakily. "You, too, y/n. Are you ready for me to move?"

When you hummed at him, he bit his lip and firmly gripped your ass. "Tell me if it hurts." He pulled a long, slow thrust and, with his grip as leverage, pushed hard to bottom out deeper with a grind at the bottom. Your hands clenched reflexively, sinking your nails into his back, and you yelped. Sho immediately froze, searching your face. "Too much?" "No, just surprised. I didn't know-" As soon as he knew you were alright, he did it again, starting into a steady rhythm, pulling soft whines and mewls from you. He fell into a heavy kiss with you, breaking only when you were breathing too heavily to be able to breathe through your noses. The tension was starting to pool heavily in your pussy, weight and heat building with each push. Your movements started to become erractic as he pushed you closer. "Sh-sho! I'm about to!" you squeaked, entire body trembling from the tension. He hummed that amused tone that you had heard many times that evening, and pushed you over the edge.

The world went black for just a moment before the weight crashed in and the star light flashed behind your eyes. He used his leverage to sink himself and stay deep, working your soft spots relentlessly. It was a nearly continuous electric spark shower through your body, and the light from it felt nearly blinding. He panted against your neck, not slowing until you were fully fucked out and going slightly limp under him. "Sho," you sighed, "wow. I- wow." He huffed against your cheek before crashing his lips into yours. "There's still something else I want to show you."

You hummed a question mark at him, too blissed out to make a coherent statement. "Take a minute, and catch your breath, senpai." He thrust in and out of you slowly as the buzzing in your brain settled down and you came back to reality.

"Feeling okay?"

"Mmhmm."

He nodded and pulled out.

"Roll onto your side." You were confused, but did it. "Pull your top leg up to your chest." More confused, but you did it. When he straddled your bottom leg, you were completely lost. "What is he doing?" Having gotten himself in the right position, he flicked his eyes back to meet yours again, pupils still blown, but completely serious. "This one gets really deep. Tell me if it hurts." You nodded in your bewilderment and propped your head up on your arm, trying to watch what he's doing. He angled his hips slightly downward and pushed into you.

It took your breath away. Literally. You couldn't breathe for a few seconds when he bottomed out because you were so shocked by how deep he was. There was a slight twinge at the bottom, but it was incredible feeling his length fully sliding in and out. He gripped you by the hips, lifting you slightly to fully align with him. Your eyes rolled back and you whined, causing him to freeze again. When you looked at him, he was cautiously studying your face, deep blue eyes sparking with heat. "'M okay. Promise," you sighed with a slight tremble, "Just surprised." His eyes stayed fixed on your face for several minutes, slowly pumping with each thrust bottoming out, watching you carefully.

Only after he was certain that you weren't in pain did he start chasing his own pleasure with a deep groan. You looked at him to see his head thrown back and his face flushed, a sweat beginning to bead over his forehead. His fingers were starting to sink into your skin, and he was breathing harder. Which is not to say that you weren't also heading for another orgasm. With the twinge gone, each time he bottomed out hit a spark shower from you, like a smith's hammer in a forge. You didn't know what to do with your hands in that position, so you settled for holding his wrist and your pillow as the coil started winding tighter and tighter. You made little shrieks and high pitched moans, begging him to keep going, that it was so good, that you needed him- and you screamed.

The snap was massive, and your entire body shook with the force of it. Your pussy pulsated around him at each thrust, making him pant and thrust harder. You felt fluid running from your cunt with wet sounds, squeezed out from the force of your clenches. Entire galaxies burned in your mind and stars exploded inside you and you screamed his name between moans. Though it was distant, you were aware that he was also shaking and groaning, thrusting harder and faster than he had all night. "Sen- Y/n!" was all he managed before his own explosion came in shuddering pumps and loud grunts. The wet sounds and fluids running from you got significantly more intense, and you would have been embarrassed at any point before now.

You were fully and thoroughly exhausted, your hand falling from his wrist onto the bed in front of you. You felt him shifting, letting your hips back down on the mattress before pulling out. Another large spurt of fluid seeped from between your lead-like legs when he did, which felt uncomfortable, but you were too tired to care. If he noticed, he didn't say anything. He flopped down in front of you and pulled you tight to his chest. He ran his fingers through your hair and kissed the top of your head. You could hear that his pulse was up ever-so-slightly, and the warmth of his chest was incredibly comfortable. He kissed the top of your head again and murmured, "How do you feel, senpai?" You hummed a contented sound and nuzzled into his chest before dozing slightly. Your heard his breathing deepen and his pulse slowed, fingers still playing with your hair.

You awoke some time later to his fingers grazing up and down your side, his lips whispering soft wake ups in your ear. Your eyes flew open, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be there. "Easy, easy. It's getting really late. Or really early, I guess." You looked at your clock, shocked to see that it was after 3. "I thought showers and water might be good." You remembered the immense volume of fluids that you were still covered in, and suddenly felt obscene. You hummed and sat up, shocked to see that the towel was absolutely soaked, even after you two had slept a for a few hours. You huffed a bashful laugh about the towel probably not being enough to keep the sheets clean. He rubbed the back of his neck and confessed that he's never made anyone squirt before, so he only planned for his own fluids.

You felt your face turn dark red at his statement. You had no idea what that meant, but were sure it wasn't normal. "I... what?" His cheeks turned pink, and he explained what it is. You were back to wishing the earth would swallow you whole when he cracked a smile and said he took it as a compliment. You didn't feel any less embarrassed, but you were relieved that he didn't find it gross, at least. He rose from his side of the bed and came to kneel in front of you. "I had a great time with you tonight, but," your stomach dropped through the floor at that word. He cracked that wonderful roguish grin, "We might need to order a mattress protector if we want to keep doing this."

You returned to Clementia, exhausted, after another long series of rotten days. Getting yelled at, being belittled, running thankless errands, trying to keep up in classes that you keep missing because you’re going on missions that don’t get you any closer to finding a way to break your curse- it was just too much. You groan as you enter the strange sanctuary that is the defunct dorm you live in, kicking your shoes off haphazardly and nearly tripping over them. You trudged up the stairs to your room and lazily threw your bag on the floor and dropped onto your bed. You need a bath. A nice long, hot bath to wash the awful week you’ve been having away.

A trail of discarded clothes followed you to the bathroom, where you were drawing a brain-meltingly hot bath and adding your favorite bubbles and oils. The inviting scent of tea and lavender already began to soothe your nerves. You slipped into the almost-too-hot water and tried to clear your mind. While the problems did start to fade a little, other concerns worked their way in. Your friends outside Darkwick- how are they? Do they even remember you, or did they get Mesmer matched? Will you even remember anything about them after you turn? You’ve never even really dated before coming to Darkwick. It just never seemed important, but now it’s another item in your long list of regrets. As you let that last item linger, you found yourself wondering what another person would feel like as your hands wandered your body, with one settling on your breast and the other finding its way between your legs.

How different would it feel to have someone else touching your breasts? You shivered as you squeezed your nipple and massaged your breast. You began tracing circles on your clit, imagining all the ways that it might be different to have another person touching you, and the way that they would feel against you. How would their body feel? You slipped your fingers into your fluttering cunt, gasping at the feeling of being filled. You fucked yourself with increasingly frenzied energy, using the heel of your palm to rub your clit as you pumped your fingers in and out. Your mind then started picturing the ghouls- who would you even feel comfortable doing anything like this with? The coil that had been winding in your pussy snapped, throwing you into a pitching and shaking orgasm, and you screamed his name.

Haru Sagara.

He was a little weird, but he had always been sweet to you and he is a deeply caring person. Surely he would treat you well and be understanding of your situation? But…. Would he even have time? Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?

You spent the next several days trying to summon the nerve to talk to him about this, even though you had seen him several times after making the decision. After classes, you decided to bite the bullet. The worst he can say is no, but he won’t be cruel in that case. Things might be a little weird, but he’s such an understanding, sweet person that it won’t ruin the friendship.

“Hey Haru! I was wondering if you had some time free today?”

“Hi Y/N! I just finished chores, so I have some time now, if that works for you.”

“Great. I’ll be by in a minute.”

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Over the course of the walk to Jabberwock, your feet felt heavier by the step,and it was made worse by your legs feeling weaker at the same rate. You were rehearsing ways to broach the topic as you dragged yourself to his house. You knew that you couldn’t just drop the “I want to have sex with you” bomb on him, but how in the world to you introduce that subject without sounding gross was, as yet, a mystery to you. You were so lost in your thoughts that you walked right past Haru without seeing him. He greeted you, making you nearly jump out of your skin and scream.

“Hi y/n! Those must be some pretty deep thoughts, gahaha!”

“Oh, h-hi, Haru. Yeah, I guess I have a lot on my mind,” you mumbled in a shaky voice. You decided that there was no way to approach your request that wasn’t going to be at least a lot awkward, so you might as well just go for it. “Is there somewhere we can talk alone?”

Haru looked a little concerned, but said that the two of you should be able to talk privately near the storage shed near one of the paddocks. Ren never leaves his room if he can help it, and Towa is usually in the caves or under a tree on the other side of the grounds. The two of you wander over, making casual conversation along the way. He opened the shed door so you could at least be out of the sun while you talked. “So, what’s on your mind?” He had his usual sunny smile plastered on his face, but you could see just the tiniest hint of worry hiding behind it.

“Uh, well, you don’t need to worry. It’s nothing bad or anything,” you started, hoping to ease his worry, “but, I’m… running out of time.” He put his hand on your shoulder and reminded you that there is still time, so you shouldn’t give up. Your breath hitched slightly, and you leaned your face onto his hand. “I know this is a weird thing to ask, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes, but I’ve never really… dated anyone…” you trailed off, staring at the floor. “Are you asking me… to… be your boyfriend?” he asked, confusion and caution evident in his question.

“Well, I know that I don’t really have enough time left for a relationship,” you whimpered, “But I still want to try, you know, um, things…” Your face had to be blazing as bright as the sun. It certainly felt as hot, and being inside the hot shed wasn’t helping matters. You were covered in sweat and starting to feel light headed from the heat and your nerves. Haru trailed his hand up from your shoulder to cup your cheek. He turned your face so you would look at him. The shock was all over his face. His silver eyes were wide and his mouth was ever so slightly open. “Are you-? Do you-? I-I-I?” He stammered, trying to ask you what you meant, but only sputtering sentence fragments and bewildered sounds. Your voice broke, “You don’t have to say yes. I understand if you don’t want to. I just, uhm, trust you, and-”

Your words were cut off by him pulling you tight, and plunging you into deep, hungry kiss that felt like a lifetime of yearning was finally being acknowledged. You had no idea how muscled or how strong he was. You had only seen him in his jumpsuit, so his body was a complete mystery. His lips were soft and full of need. You gasped at suddenly being so wrapped up in him, and he took that opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. You gently trailed your hand around the back of his neck, threading your fingers through his soft, sweat damp hair. Without meaning to, you moaned so quietly that it was almost silent. He broke the kiss off, and stared deep into your eyes. His eyes were like moonlight, heavy and full of desire. “If this is what you want,” he panted, “Yes, I will.” You hummed a soft yes, and that was all the answer he needed.

“Jump,” he whispered against your neck. You complied, confused, and squeaked when you caught you around your hips. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he panted before diving back into your kiss. He pressed your back against the warm, wooden wall. It was a little scratchy, but you didn’t care. He was greedily devouring you and grinding his hardening cock against your already soaking wet pussy. Your head was spinning as his intensity increased. “Y/n, you’re shaking. Are you okay?” You murmured a shy yes, but that you’re a little nervous. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised against your lips, “I’ll do my best.” You were a little confused by the second part, but didn’t dwell on it.

He carried you to a stack of grain bags that were under a canvas tarp and laid you down on them. He slowly ran his fingertips down from your face to your breasts, where he caressed and squeezed them as he ran his fingers over your nipples. It felt like a lightening bolt shot through you, straight to your fluttering, sopping wet cunt. You felt him smile against your lips and suppress a laugh, “Gahaha, that’s good?” “Mhm,” you murmured, aching for more. You wrapped your legs tighter around his slim waist, pulling him closer so you could grind on him more. In response, he rutted forward, stealing a squeak from your throat. He began clumsily working on your shirt buttons as he kissed your neck and steadily rubbed his cock against you through the jumpsuit you were currently cursing.

As soon as he conquered your shirt, he peppered your chest and stomach in voracious kisses and bites, and slipped his hand under your skirt. He slipped his thumb under your drenched panties and rubbed it back and forth over your slit until you gasped and twitched. “Gahaha, gotcha!” His commentary was odd, but then again, he is odd. It’s part of why you like him. He worked gentle circles around your soft spot making your legs shake and drawing little mewling whines from you. The leather of his glove felt weird against your heat, but you didn’t dislike it. “H-Haruu. Your gloves… wet…” you panted, “It’ll… soak in. In a very un-Haru-like voice, he groaned, “Good. I can enjoy your scent again later.” Your eyes flicked down to him, only to meet his brilliant silver eyes staring at you hungrily. You swallowed hard, your nerves returning to remind you of what exactly you’re doing and that you really have to clue how to do it.

Still watching you, he hooked his thumb around the crotch on your panties and pulled them down over your quaking thighs. Haru then rubbed two fingers over and through your folds, gathering your juices before sliding them into you. Your walls clenched around him as you adjusted to the unfamiliar feeling. His fingers were bigger and longer than your own, and the leather created an odd, but very enjoyable, friction. You let out a breathy moan as he slowly dragged them in and out of your pussy. He curled his fingers forward ever so slightly, hitting your g spot and making your back arch as you grabbed his hair. “H-Haaru! That feels-!”

He had a knack for cutting your words off. As you were starting to tell him how good it feels, he lightly swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit. A small scream ripped from your throat. He was going to drive you over the edge, and fast. Your little scream spurred him on, now fully latching on with his plush lips and gently sucking and flicking his tongue on it. Your thighs tensed and shook, clamping around his head. He made a sound that might have been a very muffled laugh. The burning coil that was building in your pussy and stomach was dangerously close to snapping. Your every breath came in short, panting whines and you shook uncontrollably. Every muscle was tense in anticipation of the break. “Ha- I!”

The coil snapped.

Your body convulsed with the force of the electric waves pulsing through you, emanating from your core as Haru fucked and licked you through it. You panted and shrieked, twisting your fingers through Haru’s now sweat soaked hair and grinding your heat on his lips. You briefly looked down to see his eyes, still open, smiling at you as he fucked you out. The electric vibrations in your limbs were slowing, but the buzzing in your head from the release had fully taken hold of your faculties. You managed to get ahold of the collar of his jumpsuit so you could pull him away from your oversensitive pussy, but not before you got one final long sweep over your clit with his silky tongue. He wiped his glistening face with his sleeve, and only then did you notice that there was a large wet spot on the front of his jumpsuit where you had been grinding on him earlier. You felt a little embarrassed about it, but when he caught you looking, he softly told you that it isn’t all yours. He has a hair trigger, and you’ve already fired him twice.

You were stunned because he never showed any signs of hitting his own peak. “Wha…? W-when?” you asked, absolutely bewildered. “While we were grinding on each other and as you came,” he said casually, as though you were talking about the weather. “Don’t worry,” he said with a grin and a chuckle, “I recover fast.” You didn’t know what to say, so you just pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The flavor was like nothing you had encountered before. You were a little uncomfortable with tasting yourself, but you wanted more at the same time. With a shaking hand, you reached for the zipper on Haru’s bright orange jumpsuit. He caught your wrist and told you that the jumpsuit stays on. You nodded and pulled the tab down.

His torso, or what you could see anyway, was very muscular, sculpted by many hours working in the safari park. The was a little bit of dark scarring on the right side of his chest- probably why he didn’t want to take everything off. You kissed a slow line down from his lips to the band of his damp underwear. “Can I?” you asked shyly. Haru swallowed hard and nodded. It’s his to turn to be nervous, apparently.

It took some clumsy fumbling to move his underwear out of the way while he was still in his jumpsuit, but you managed. His cock was a beautiful blushy beige with a rosy tip and it curved slightly upward. He wasn’t huge, but he was still going to stretch you a little. You gave the tip a kitten lick, getting a taste of his cum. Another weird taste that you weren’t sure how to feel about. When you licked the head more fully, with the flat of your tongue, Haru drew a sharp breath and ran his fingers through his hair, now pasted to his face and neck by sweat. You looked up at him, seeing that he is flushed darkly and drenched in sweat. Keeping contact with his mercury eyes, you twirled your tongue around the edge of the head before taking it into your mouth. He gasped and shook a little, and choked out a question: “Where do you want me to finish?” You just took him further into your mouth in response, and only seconds later he exploded. The shots of hot semen hitting your throat made you choke, but you swallowed it down and smiled up at him when he pulled his still throbbing, hard cock out of your mouth. “Lie back,” he whispered in a gentle voice.

“Are you ready?”

The question hit you like a bucket of cold water. “Mhm,” you murmured, nodding your head almost imperceptibly. Haru pushed your trembling thighs apart, situating himself between them. He rubbed his cock head up and down between your folds, tickling your clit and kissing your entrance. He locked his misty grey eyes on yours, and asked if you’re sure. You nodded again, though it could have been mistaken as a shiver. He lined himself up with your heat and slowly pushed in, bottoming out in one thrust.

The stretch was uncomfortable, but the feeling of fullness that followed was bliss. He leaned forward, lacing your fingers between his and kissing you passionately. “Y/n, I’m really glad you came to me,” he whispered as though telling a secret, “I’m glad you trust me with this.” You kissed him back and tightened your legs around him, slowly rocking your hips against his. “Me, too.”

After a few more moments of being simply wrapped in each other, whispering little sweet things back and forth, he drew a long, slow thrust. Your fingers tightened around his and you cried out, loudly moaning his name. He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing sweetly against your lips and thrust faster. You screamed, begging him not to stop. The tension was building in you, and he was hitting all the right spots with merciless precision. Haru moaned your name, telling you how good you feel, and that you’re so tight and wet he can barely hold back. “You don’t have to,” you cried, each word punctuated with the slap of skin on skin.

Without warning, Haru quickly pulled out and came on your stomach and chest. No wonder you choked. He came in thick ropes that shot halfway up your body. As soon as he stopped shooting, he immediately buried his cock in your throbbing cunt, pulling a wail from you to rival a banshee. He let go of one of your hands, instead holding your hip to steady you as he fucked you harder and faster.

It was indescribable. Each thrust sent showers of sparks and electricity shimmering through your entire body, and were fanning the flames burning in your pussy. You cried his name, loudly enough to startle some of the nearby animals, and you cradled his face with your free hand. Haru groaned loudly into your hand and bottomed out. His thrusting stayed deep, but was fast and short. The change was all it took to push you over again, and your vision went white. The way he fucked you had him hitting all of your soft spots almost constantly, and you exploded loudly and forcefully. You screamed his name as shockwaves of fire and pleasure shot out from your core into the rest of your body. Your hand clenched on his as your pussy pulsed and squeezed his cock. “Y/n, I’m… going… where?” he yelled, his own heat taking over. “Don’t stop,” you whined, still riding the waves of your orgasm. Haru groaned sharply and lurched slightly as he came, never stopping, or even slowing, as he fucked you out.

Once you started to have a little mental clarity again, you realized that you were painfully thirsty and hot. You stammered out a barely intelligible request for water, and were surprised when he laughed and told you to hold on tight.

Bahnti!

You held onto him like a koala as he rocketed the two of you to the dorm. The comparative cool of the dorm gave you a deep shiver, being covered in sweat and coming from a storage shed in the summer sun. He deposited you gently on his bed and told you to wait there. He returned seconds later with a large container of cold water and poured you a glass. You drank a little too quickly and gave yourself brain freeze. “Gahaha, there’s no need to drink that fast! You’ll upset your stomach!”

Stomach. Right. You took another sip of your water and took a look at your chest and stomach. You were smeared in a blend of sweat and semen, and some dust from the shed, the run, or maybe both. Haru was equally dirty, though most of it was on his jumpsuit. “We’re both filthy,” you laughed. “Yeah, but I think we can do better. I have some soap that claims to get all stains out. I want to see if I paid too much,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, still open wide enough to show the shimmering moonlight hue. “Your eyes are really pretty, you know. I never really got to see it before now.” Haru just smiled and kissed your forehead.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. I didn’t realize how hot it was in the shed until now.”

“Feeling up for some more?”

More? This man’s endurance is something else. It didn’t really surprise you, given how much he does every day without little to no help, but you hadn’t really considered how it might affect this. “Can I finish my water first?” you asked with a laugh., “I don’t think I have any fluids left in me.” Haru grinned wide and laughed. “Gahaha! I can help with that.”

You had barely set your glass on the bedside table before he was on you, kissing and caressing you tenderly, barely hiding the feral desire that was already beginning to boil up from within him. He stopped suddenly and told you to close your eyes. Not the weirdest thing that’s happened so far today, so sure. “No peeking.” “I won’t.” You heard the sound of fabric rustling and zippers pulling. Your curiosity was picking at you, but you didn’t want to be disrespectful. “Okay, you can look.”

Haru had pulled a long sleeve shirt on and removed everything else. “It’s more comfortable,” he said with an awkward smile. You just smiled and opened your arms to him, not wanting to pry when he was clearly self conscious. He laid down between your legs and paused again. “We should probably get you out of your clothes. You can’t go anywhere with them like that, anyway.” You hummed in response and wiggled yourself out of your shirt and uniform jacket, and Haru busied himself with your skirt. Your panties were still somewhere out in the shed, probably never to be seen again. The breeze from the fan prickled across your newly exposed skin, giving you goosebumps and making your nipples hard. He immediately wrapped his lips around one, sucking and licking it, and slipped his fingers between your folds. You gasped sharply with a slight squeak at how sensitive you still are, despite taking a few minutes to breathe.

That was encouragement to Haru. Every gasp, moan, and scream was fuel on his fire, and he was still blazing from before. He sucked harder on your nipple and flicked his tongue back and forth over it, and the instant your back arched he plunged his fingers firmly into your core. You yelped and grabbed the sheets before melting into a puddle of wanton lust, moaning his name as he pounded his fingers in and out. His thumb massaged firm circles on your overstimulated nub as his fingers hooked on your g spot. You were quivering, somewhere between breaking and cumming. It was too much, but you needed more. The inferno raging in you needed fuel before it could burn out in a cataclysmic explosion.

“Fuck, ah, Ha-“ you cried as the headboard started thumping on the wall. You felt hot fluid splatter on your leg. He came again, but somehow still wasn’t slowing. “Ha-ru! Please! I need you!” Without missing a beat, he pulled his fingers out and thrust his twitching, rock hard cock in one smooth motion and bottomed out, crying your name loudly as he did. He wrapped his arms around your hips, pulling you into an almost seated position in his lap and then got onto his knees. This new position let him get deeper, and you were seeing stars. You had tunnel vision, and all you could see was him as he pounded deep in you as the two of you moaned and cried out, the headboard acting as the drum in the song you were creating. You were right on the tipping point when-

*BANG BANG BANG* “QUIT BEING SO LOUD, YOU CLOWN!”

Your orgasm was ruined by a very irritated Ren beating on the wall, telling you to shut up. You and Haru shared a quiet, embarrassed laugh before he lifted you into his lap. “I have an idea. Wrap your legs around me.” You did as you were told, and Haru pressed you against the wall opposite of the very annoyed roommate. “How flexible are you?”

You were dumbfounded. “I don’t know. Decently, I guess?” Haru gripped one of your legs tightly, and pulled the other upward, over his shoulder. “Is this okay? If it hurts we can try something else.” You told him that it’s a little awkward, but it doesn’t hurt. He smiled and covered your mouth before thrusting hard, catching your scream with the leather glove that still had your juices soaked into it. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder, just short of completely silencing his own sounds. He resumed the fever pitch that had gotten you so close to the edge before, the sound of skin rapidly slapping on skin now being the loudest noise you were making. You clung to him frantically, digging your nails into his back, and screaming into his hand.

The tension was in a rapid crescendo, and you were close to breaking. Each thrust fired jolts of electricity from your core, out through your limb and extremities, and poured more weight behind the dam that was threatening to burst. Your eyes were watering with your visceral need for release, and you sobbed and screamed against his hand. Your body had a mind of its own, trying to grind on Haru as he fucked you. It was everything you had to hold onto him, both of you drenched in sweat and smeared in semen. He pulled his face off of your shoulder just enough to frantically pant out that he was about to cum. You screamed a near silent yes into his hand, and the world went black.

The crash hit you like a tsunami. Wave after wave ripped through you, receding only to be hit by another and another, each pulled from your core with each thrust as he bottomed out repeatedly. The sound of slapping skin was joined by an incredibly loud, wet sound that Haru was churning from your dripping pussy. The crushing wave tearing through you made you see stars and your brain sizzled from the heat he fucked into you. Every muscle in your body flexed and spasmed as though you were lifting the universe. You were completely blissed and fucked out, irritated roommate be damned.

Haru was in the middle of a riptide as well. The instant your pussy seized around him, he couldn’t hold back. His cock fired shot after shot of hot, thick cum into your pulsing cunt in time with the throbbing of his body tensing and releasing. You were over full at this point, and his emissions, mixed with your juices, were running down his cock and dripping onto the floor. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hip, trying for all he was worth to keep ahold of you a his body started going weak from this final release. Finally spent, he pulled out with a shudder and kissed your forehead.

He uncovered your mouth and slipped your leg off his shoulder, allowing you to put your toes on the floor. A small river ran down your leg when you did. It felt obscene, but you loved it. Once your foot was firmly back on solid, albeit wet, ground, Haru pressed his forehead to yours, joining you in blissed out silence. For a time, neither of you spoke or moved, but instead just enjoyed the soft moment. “Here,” he whispered against your forehead, sweeping you into his arms. He laid you back onto his bed and poured you another glass of water. “You probably need this,” he crooned, with a kiss to your cheek. He pulled his jumpsuit over his lower half and left the room, leaving you dazed and sleepy. He returned moments later with another jumpsuit and some towels. “Something for you to wear until your clothes are done washing. The bathroom is the next door down. We both need showers, gahaha!”

He wasn’t exaggerating. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him since he changed, but now our could see that he was covered from the neck down in a blend of fluids, ranging from completely clear to slightly milky, and his hair was completely pasted to his head. You could only imagine that you were in a similar state. Back to his usual chipper voice and closed smiling eyes, he said that he’s going to start the laundry and you should go shower. “Will you come with me?” you asked shyly. “It’s too small for two people, gahaha! I’ll shower when you’re done. I need to get these sheets, so you’ll have to stay down in the main room until they’re done. You nodded dizzily and rose to go to the shower.

You felt much more like yourself again after the shower, albeit a little sore and tired. Haru kissed your forehead and handed you another glass of water when you came downstairs before darting up to take one of his own. You dropped onto the couch and lazily pulled your phone out of the slightly itchy jumpsuit pocket. You mindlessly scrolled your socials, ignoring the sound of a door from the hall above you. It wasn’t until you heard a strange sound from the bottom of the stairs that you took any notice.

It was a very red faced Ren, staring in total shock and horror at you in your borrowed jumpsuit. You briefly made eye contact. Your face felt hot, and you wanted nothing more than to vanish into the couch. He immediately broke eye contact and scurried to the kitchen, muttering something about “the worst” and “that clown.” You suppressed a laugh in spite of yourself and dozed off, listening to Ren’s irritated mutterings about harassment and inappropriate behavior.

You awoke with a start when Haru shook your shoulder and called your name. You must have been asleep for a while, if the fading light coming in the window was any indication.

“Oh no! What time is it?! How long was I alsleep?!”

“You’ve only been asleep for about an hour. The laundry is nearly done drying. I guess I really wore you out, gahahaha!”

“It looks so much later,” you said sleepily. Then you remembered- Ren. He knows. He heard you two and saw you lying on the couch. “Haru…. Ren isn’t going to tell anyone, right? He knows that we were, you know…”

“Nah, I think he’s too embarrassed to say he heard it, gahaha! He completely shuts down over anything like that!”

You were still uneasy and a little embarrassed, but you could only take Haru’s word and hope for the best. The dryer buzzer sounded, startling you out of your skin. He darted off and brought your clothes, warm and smelling of a soft clean soapy scent. After dressing, Haru told you that he tried to find your panties so he could wash them for you, but they’re long gone. “Probably taken by an anomaly, if I had to guess. I’ll have to be careful to not make your skirt fly up when I take you home, gahahaha!” Your stomach lurched at the idea of an anomaly having your panties, and again at the idea of your skirt flying up and showing everyone nearby that you aren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Thank you, Haru, for everything today. You really… wow.” That last word caught in your throat. You were inexplicably feeling shy again, and saying anything detailed felt too lewd.

“Gahahaha! I should be thanking you! I never really had time, so sharing this with you means a lot!”

“Wait- you never… either?”

“Nope! I knew how, but never did it myself.”

Your jaw dropped. You had no words. “But- you! You were so good!”

“I know where all the parts are, so I just had to give it a shot, gahaha!” He smiled wide at you. “You weren’t so bad yourself!”

You had no idea how to react, so you just fell quiet and dazed. “You okay?” He looked at you, concerned, his grey eyes opened ever so slightly. “Yeah,” your voice quivered, “it’s just a lot, you know?” He pulled you into a wordless embrace, brushing your hair away from your face with feathery light touches. You felt safe, and, in spite of yourself, huffed a tiny sob. “I’m sorry,” you whined between little sobs, “ ‘m just a little overwhelmed. I’m notupsetandwe’reo-” you started to babble when Haru softly shushed you. “Don’t apologize. You have a lot going on.” He kissed the top of your head and rocked with you while you composed yourself. “I don’t want you to think I’m getting rid of you, but I have to start evening chores soon. I’d like to take you back to your dorm though.” You sniffled and nodded against his chest.

As you reached the edge of Jabberwock, he teased again that he was going to use his stigma to get you home faster, but he wasn’t sure he could keep your skirt down. You laughed uncomfortably, and he assured you that he was only joking. You walked casually back toward your dorm, talking about nothing in particular. Every time a just of wind blew through, you smoothed the back of your skirt for fear it had blown up and you were exposed for all to see.

When you arrived, he asked to come in for a moment. “Really, only a moment!” he exclaimed when you gave him a wry smile. As soon as the door closed behind you, he swept you into a tight hug, your hearts beating fast against each other. “I really did have a great day with you,” he murmured, letting you see the slightest sliver of the moons in his eyes, “I’d like to do it again sometime, if you want.” He brushed his lips over yours, holding your gaze. “I never thought I’d have a chance with you, and I’d like to see where this- we- go.” He cupped your cheek, tracing his thumb softly back and forth. Your breath caught. “I’d like that,” you sighed before pulling him into an emotion-filled kiss, softly running your fingers through his fiery red hair.

“It’s a date then?”

“Yeah.”

You felt a slight throb against your stomach. This man is like a rabbit, you thought to yourself. “Yeah,” he huffed a slight laugh, as though reading your mind. “I better go before I make myself late, gahaha!” You kissed each other one last time, and he took off like a shot.

You returned to Clementia, exhausted, after another long series of rotten days. Getting yelled at, being belittled, running thankless errands, trying to keep up in classes that you keep missing because you’re going on missions that don’t get you any closer to finding a way to break your curse- it was just too much. You groan as you enter the strange sanctuary that is the defunct dorm you live in, kicking your shoes off haphazardly and nearly tripping over them. You trudged up the stairs to your room and lazily threw your bag on the floor and dropped onto your bed. You need a bath. A nice long, hot bath to wash the awful week you’ve been having away.

A trail of discarded clothes followed you to the bathroom, where you were drawing a brain-meltingly hot bath and adding your favorite bubbles and oils. The inviting scent of tea and lavender already began to soothe your nerves. You slipped into the almost-too-hot water and tried to clear your mind. While the problems did start to fade a little, other concerns worked their way in. Your friends outside Darkwick- how are they? Do they even remember you, or did they get Mesmer matched? Will you even remember anything about them after you turn? You’ve never even really dated before coming to Darkwick. It just never seemed important, but now it’s another item in your long list of regrets. As you let that last item linger, you found yourself wondering what another person would feel like as your hands wandered your body, with one settling on your breast and the other finding its way between your legs.

How different would it feel to have someone else touching your breasts? You shivered as you squeezed your nipple and massaged your breast. You began tracing circles on your clit, imagining all the ways that it might be different to have another person touching you, and the way that they would feel against you. How would their body feel? You slipped your fingers into your fluttering cunt, gasping at the feeling of being filled. You fucked yourself with increasingly frenzied energy, using the heel of your palm to rub your clit as you pumped your fingers in and out. Your mind then started picturing the ghouls- who would you even feel comfortable doing anything like this with? The coil that had been winding in your pussy snapped, throwing you into a pitching and shaking orgasm, and you screamed his name.

Haru Sagara.

He was a little weird, but he had always been sweet to you and he is a deeply caring person. Surely he would treat you well and be understanding of your situation? But…. Would he even have time? Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?

You spent the next several days trying to summon the nerve to talk to him about this, even though you had seen him several times after making the decision. After classes, you decided to bite the bullet. The worst he can say is no, but he won’t be cruel in that case. Things might be a little weird, but he’s such an understanding, sweet person that it won’t ruin the friendship.

“Hey Haru! I was wondering if you had some time free today?”

“Hi Y/N! I just finished chores, so I have some time now, if that works for you.”

“Great. I’ll be by in a minute.”

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Over the course of the walk to Jabberwock, your feet felt heavier by the step,and it was made worse by your legs feeling weaker at the same rate. You were rehearsing ways to broach the topic as you dragged yourself to his house. You knew that you couldn’t just drop the “I want to have sex with you” bomb on him, but how in the world to you introduce that subject without sounding gross was, as yet, a mystery to you. You were so lost in your thoughts that you walked right past Haru without seeing him. He greeted you, making you nearly jump out of your skin and scream.

“Hi y/n! Those must be some pretty deep thoughts, gahaha!”

“Oh, h-hi, Haru. Yeah, I guess I have a lot on my mind,” you mumbled in a shaky voice. You decided that there was no way to approach your request that wasn’t going to be at least a lot awkward, so you might as well just go for it. “Is there somewhere we can talk alone?”

Haru looked a little concerned, but said that the two of you should be able to talk privately near the storage shed near one of the paddocks. Ren never leaves his room if he can help it, and Towa is usually in the caves or under a tree on the other side of the grounds. The two of you wander over, making casual conversation along the way. He opened the shed door so you could at least be out of the sun while you talked. “So, what’s on your mind?” He had his usual sunny smile plastered on his face, but you could see just the tiniest hint of worry hiding behind it.

“Uh, well, you don’t need to worry. It’s nothing bad or anything,” you started, hoping to ease his worry, “but, I’m… running out of time.” He put his hand on your shoulder and reminded you that there is still time, so you shouldn’t give up. Your breath hitched slightly, and you leaned your face onto his hand. “I know this is a weird thing to ask, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes, but I’ve never really… dated anyone…” you trailed off, staring at the floor. “Are you asking me… to… be your boyfriend?” he asked, confusion and caution evident in his question.

“Well, I know that I don’t really have enough time left for a relationship,” you whimpered, “But I still want to try, you know, um, things…” Your face had to be blazing as bright as the sun. It certainly felt as hot, and being inside the hot shed wasn’t helping matters. You were covered in sweat and starting to feel light headed from the heat and your nerves. Haru trailed his hand up from your shoulder to cup your cheek. He turned your face so you would look at him. The shock was all over his face. His silver eyes were wide and his mouth was ever so slightly open. “Are you-? Do you-? I-I-I?” He stammered, trying to ask you what you meant, but only sputtering sentence fragments and bewildered sounds. Your voice broke, “You don’t have to say yes. I understand if you don’t want to. I just, uhm, trust you, and-”

Your words were cut off by him pulling you tight, and plunging you into deep, hungry kiss that felt like a lifetime of yearning was finally being acknowledged. You had no idea how muscled or how strong he was. You had only seen him in his jumpsuit, so his body was a complete mystery. His lips were soft and full of need. You gasped at suddenly being so wrapped up in him, and he took that opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. You gently trailed your hand around the back of his neck, threading your fingers through his soft, sweat damp hair. Without meaning to, you moaned so quietly that it was almost silent. He broke the kiss off, and stared deep into your eyes. His eyes were like moonlight, heavy and full of desire. “If this is what you want,” he panted, “Yes, I will.” You hummed a soft yes, and that was all the answer he needed.

“Jump,” he whispered against your neck. You complied, confused, and squeaked when you caught you around your hips. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he panted before diving back into your kiss. He pressed your back against the warm, wooden wall. It was a little scratchy, but you didn’t care. He was greedily devouring you and grinding his hardening cock against your already soaking wet pussy. Your head was spinning as his intensity increased. “Y/n, you’re shaking. Are you okay?” You murmured a shy yes, but that you’re a little nervous. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised against your lips, “I’ll do my best.” You were a little confused by the second part, but didn’t dwell on it.

He carried you to a stack of grain bags that were under a canvas tarp and laid you down on them. He slowly ran his fingertips down from your face to your breasts, where he caressed and squeezed them as he ran his fingers over your nipples. It felt like a lightening bolt shot through you, straight to your fluttering, sopping wet cunt. You felt him smile against your lips and suppress a laugh, “Gahaha, that’s good?” “Mhm,” you murmured, aching for more. You wrapped your legs tighter around his slim waist, pulling him closer so you could grind on him more. In response, he rutted forward, stealing a squeak from your throat. He began clumsily working on your shirt buttons as he kissed your neck and steadily rubbed his cock against you through the jumpsuit you were currently cursing.

As soon as he conquered your shirt, he peppered your chest and stomach in voracious kisses and bites, and slipped his hand under your skirt. He slipped his thumb under your drenched panties and rubbed it back and forth over your slit until you gasped and twitched. “Gahaha, gotcha!” His commentary was odd, but then again, he is odd. It’s part of why you like him. He worked gentle circles around your soft spot making your legs shake and drawing little mewling whines from you. The leather of his glove felt weird against your heat, but you didn’t dislike it. “H-Haruu. Your gloves… wet…” you panted, “It’ll… soak in. In a very un-Haru-like voice, he groaned, “Good. I can enjoy your scent again later.” Your eyes flicked down to him, only to meet his brilliant silver eyes staring at you hungrily. You swallowed hard, your nerves returning to remind you of what exactly you’re doing and that you really have to clue how to do it.

Still watching you, he hooked his thumb around the crotch on your panties and pulled them down over your quaking thighs. Haru then rubbed two fingers over and through your folds, gathering your juices before sliding them into you. Your walls clenched around him as you adjusted to the unfamiliar feeling. His fingers were bigger and longer than your own, and the leather created an odd, but very enjoyable, friction. You let out a breathy moan as he slowly dragged them in and out of your pussy. He curled his fingers forward ever so slightly, hitting your g spot and making your back arch as you grabbed his hair. “H-Haaru! That feels-!”

He had a knack for cutting your words off. As you were starting to tell him how good it feels, he lightly swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit. A small scream ripped from your throat. He was going to drive you over the edge, and fast. Your little scream spurred him on, now fully latching on with his plush lips and gently sucking and flicking his tongue on it. Your thighs tensed and shook, clamping around his head. He made a sound that might have been a very muffled laugh. The burning coil that was building in your pussy and stomach was dangerously close to snapping. Your every breath came in short, panting whines and you shook uncontrollably. Every muscle was tense in anticipation of the break. “Ha- I!”

The coil snapped.

Your body convulsed with the force of the electric waves pulsing through you, emanating from your core as Haru fucked and licked you through it. You panted and shrieked, twisting your fingers through Haru’s now sweat soaked hair and grinding your heat on his lips. You briefly looked down to see his eyes, still open, smiling at you as he fucked you out. The electric vibrations in your limbs were slowing, but the buzzing in your head from the release had fully taken hold of your faculties. You managed to get ahold of the collar of his jumpsuit so you could pull him away from your oversensitive pussy, but not before you got one final long sweep over your clit with his silky tongue. He wiped his glistening face with his sleeve, and only then did you notice that there was a large wet spot on the front of his jumpsuit where you had been grinding on him earlier. You felt a little embarrassed about it, but when he caught you looking, he softly told you that it isn’t all yours. He has a hair trigger, and you’ve already fired him twice.

You were stunned because he never showed any signs of hitting his own peak. “Wha…? W-when?” you asked, absolutely bewildered. “While we were grinding on each other and as you came,” he said casually, as though you were talking about the weather. “Don’t worry,” he said with a grin and a chuckle, “I recover fast.” You didn’t know what to say, so you just pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The flavor was like nothing you had encountered before. You were a little uncomfortable with tasting yourself, but you wanted more at the same time. With a shaking hand, you reached for the zipper on Haru’s bright orange jumpsuit. He caught your wrist and told you that the jumpsuit stays on. You nodded and pulled the tab down.

His torso, or what you could see anyway, was very muscular, sculpted by many hours working in the safari park. The was a little bit of dark scarring on the right side of his chest- probably why he didn’t want to take everything off. You kissed a slow line down from his lips to the band of his damp underwear. “Can I?” you asked shyly. Haru swallowed hard and nodded. It’s his to turn to be nervous, apparently.

It took some clumsy fumbling to move his underwear out of the way while he was still in his jumpsuit, but you managed. His cock was a beautiful blushy beige with a rosy tip and it curved slightly upward. He wasn’t huge, but he was still going to stretch you a little. You gave the tip a kitten lick, getting a taste of his cum. Another weird taste that you weren’t sure how to feel about. When you licked the head more fully, with the flat of your tongue, Haru drew a sharp breath and ran his fingers through his hair, now pasted to his face and neck by sweat. You looked up at him, seeing that he is flushed darkly and drenched in sweat. Keeping contact with his mercury eyes, you twirled your tongue around the edge of the head before taking it into your mouth. He gasped and shook a little, and choked out a question: “Where do you want me to finish?” You just took him further into your mouth in response, and only seconds later he exploded. The shots of hot semen hitting your throat made you choke, but you swallowed it down and smiled up at him when he pulled his still throbbing, hard cock out of your mouth. “Lie back,” he whispered in a gentle voice.

“Are you ready?”

The question hit you like a bucket of cold water. “Mhm,” you murmured, nodding your head almost imperceptibly. Haru pushed your trembling thighs apart, situating himself between them. He rubbed his cock head up and down between your folds, tickling your clit and kissing your entrance. He locked his misty grey eyes on yours, and asked if you’re sure. You nodded again, though it could have been mistaken as a shiver. He lined himself up with your heat and slowly pushed in, bottoming out in one thrust.

The stretch was uncomfortable, but the feeling of fullness that followed was bliss. He leaned forward, lacing your fingers between his and kissing you passionately. “Y/n, I’m really glad you came to me,” he whispered as though telling a secret, “I’m glad you trust me with this.” You kissed him back and tightened your legs around him, slowly rocking your hips against his. “Me, too.”

After a few more moments of being simply wrapped in each other, whispering little sweet things back and forth, he drew a long, slow thrust. Your fingers tightened around his and you cried out, loudly moaning his name. He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing sweetly against your lips and thrust faster. You screamed, begging him not to stop. The tension was building in you, and he was hitting all the right spots with merciless precision. Haru moaned your name, telling you how good you feel, and that you’re so tight and wet he can barely hold back. “You don’t have to,” you cried, each word punctuated with the slap of skin on skin.

Without warning, Haru quickly pulled out and came on your stomach and chest. No wonder you choked. He came in thick ropes that shot halfway up your body. As soon as he stopped shooting, he immediately buried his cock in your throbbing cunt, pulling a wail from you to rival a banshee. He let go of one of your hands, instead holding your hip to steady you as he fucked you harder and faster.

It was indescribable. Each thrust sent showers of sparks and electricity shimmering through your entire body, and were fanning the flames burning in your pussy. You cried his name, loudly enough to startle some of the nearby animals, and you cradled his face with your free hand. Haru groaned loudly into your hand and bottomed out. His thrusting stayed deep, but was fast and short. The change was all it took to push you over again, and your vision went white. The way he fucked you had him hitting all of your soft spots almost constantly, and you exploded loudly and forcefully. You screamed his name as shockwaves of fire and pleasure shot out from your core into the rest of your body. Your hand clenched on his as your pussy pulsed and squeezed his cock. “Y/n, I’m… going… where?” he yelled, his own heat taking over. “Don’t stop,” you whined, still riding the waves of your orgasm. Haru groaned sharply and lurched slightly as he came, never stopping, or even slowing, as he fucked you out.

Once you started to have a little mental clarity again, you realized that you were painfully thirsty and hot. You stammered out a barely intelligible request for water, and were surprised when he laughed and told you to hold on tight.

Bahnti!

You held onto him like a koala as he rocketed the two of you to the dorm. The comparative cool of the dorm gave you a deep shiver, being covered in sweat and coming from a storage shed in the summer sun. He deposited you gently on his bed and told you to wait there. He returned seconds later with a large container of cold water and poured you a glass. You drank a little too quickly and gave yourself brain freeze. “Gahaha, there’s no need to drink that fast! You’ll upset your stomach!”

Stomach. Right. You took another sip of your water and took a look at your chest and stomach. You were smeared in a blend of sweat and semen, and some dust from the shed, the run, or maybe both. Haru was equally dirty, though most of it was on his jumpsuit. “We’re both filthy,” you laughed. “Yeah, but I think we can do better. I have some soap that claims to get all stains out. I want to see if I paid too much,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, still open wide enough to show the shimmering moonlight hue. “Your eyes are really pretty, you know. I never really got to see it before now.” Haru just smiled and kissed your forehead.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. I didn’t realize how hot it was in the shed until now.”

“Feeling up for some more?”

More? This man’s endurance is something else. It didn’t really surprise you, given how much he does every day without little to no help, but you hadn’t really considered how it might affect this. “Can I finish my water first?” you asked with a laugh., “I don’t think I have any fluids left in me.” Haru grinned wide and laughed. “Gahaha! I can help with that.”

You had barely set your glass on the bedside table before he was on you, kissing and caressing you tenderly, barely hiding the feral desire that was already beginning to boil up from within him. He stopped suddenly and told you to close your eyes. Not the weirdest thing that’s happened so far today, so sure. “No peeking.” “I won’t.” You heard the sound of fabric rustling and zippers pulling. Your curiosity was picking at you, but you didn’t want to be disrespectful. “Okay, you can look.”

Haru had pulled a long sleeve shirt on and removed everything else. “It’s more comfortable,” he said with an awkward smile. You just smiled and opened your arms to him, not wanting to pry when he was clearly self conscious. He laid down between your legs and paused again. “We should probably get you out of your clothes. You can’t go anywhere with them like that, anyway.” You hummed in response and wiggled yourself out of your shirt and uniform jacket, and Haru busied himself with your skirt. Your panties were still somewhere out in the shed, probably never to be seen again. The breeze from the fan prickled across your newly exposed skin, giving you goosebumps and making your nipples hard. He immediately wrapped his lips around one, sucking and licking it, and slipped his fingers between your folds. You gasped sharply with a slight squeak at how sensitive you still are, despite taking a few minutes to breathe.

That was encouragement to Haru. Every gasp, moan, and scream was fuel on his fire, and he was still blazing from before. He sucked harder on your nipple and flicked his tongue back and forth over it, and the instant your back arched he plunged his fingers firmly into your core. You yelped and grabbed the sheets before melting into a puddle of wanton lust, moaning his name as he pounded his fingers in and out. His thumb massaged firm circles on your overstimulated nub as his fingers hooked on your g spot. You were quivering, somewhere between breaking and cumming. It was too much, but you needed more. The inferno raging in you needed fuel before it could burn out in a cataclysmic explosion.

“Fuck, ah, Ha-“ you cried as the headboard started thumping on the wall. You felt hot fluid splatter on your leg. He came again, but somehow still wasn’t slowing. “Ha-ru! Please! I need you!” Without missing a beat, he pulled his fingers out and thrust his twitching, rock hard cock in one smooth motion and bottomed out, crying your name loudly as he did. He wrapped his arms around your hips, pulling you into an almost seated position in his lap and then got onto his knees. This new position let him get deeper, and you were seeing stars. You had tunnel vision, and all you could see was him as he pounded deep in you as the two of you moaned and cried out, the headboard acting as the drum in the song you were creating. You were right on the tipping point when-

*BANG BANG BANG* “QUIT BEING SO LOUD, YOU CLOWN!”

Your orgasm was ruined by a very irritated Ren beating on the wall, telling you to shut up. You and Haru shared a quiet, embarrassed laugh before he lifted you into his lap. “I have an idea. Wrap your legs around me.” You did as you were told, and Haru pressed you against the wall opposite of the very annoyed roommate. “How flexible are you?”

You were dumbfounded. “I don’t know. Decently, I guess?” Haru gripped one of your legs tightly, and pulled the other upward, over his shoulder. “Is this okay? If it hurts we can try something else.” You told him that it’s a little awkward, but it doesn’t hurt. He smiled and covered your mouth before thrusting hard, catching your scream with the leather glove that still had your juices soaked into it. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder, just short of completely silencing his own sounds. He resumed the fever pitch that had gotten you so close to the edge before, the sound of skin rapidly slapping on skin now being the loudest noise you were making. You clung to him frantically, digging your nails into his back, and screaming into his hand.

The tension was in a rapid crescendo, and you were close to breaking. Each thrust fired jolts of electricity from your core, out through your limb and extremities, and poured more weight behind the dam that was threatening to burst. Your eyes were watering with your visceral need for release, and you sobbed and screamed against his hand. Your body had a mind of its own, trying to grind on Haru as he fucked you. It was everything you had to hold onto him, both of you drenched in sweat and smeared in semen. He pulled his face off of your shoulder just enough to frantically pant out that he was about to cum. You screamed a near silent yes into his hand, and the world went black.

The crash hit you like a tsunami. Wave after wave ripped through you, receding only to be hit by another and another, each pulled from your core with each thrust as he bottomed out repeatedly. The sound of slapping skin was joined by an incredibly loud, wet sound that Haru was churning from your dripping pussy. The crushing wave tearing through you made you see stars and your brain sizzled from the heat he fucked into you. Every muscle in your body flexed and spasmed as though you were lifting the universe. You were completely blissed and fucked out, irritated roommate be damned.

Haru was in the middle of a riptide as well. The instant your pussy seized around him, he couldn’t hold back. His cock fired shot after shot of hot, thick cum into your pulsing cunt in time with the throbbing of his body tensing and releasing. You were over full at this point, and his emissions, mixed with your juices, were running down his cock and dripping onto the floor. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hip, trying for all he was worth to keep ahold of you a his body started going weak from this final release. Finally spent, he pulled out with a shudder and kissed your forehead.

He uncovered your mouth and slipped your leg off his shoulder, allowing you to put your toes on the floor. A small river ran down your leg when you did. It felt obscene, but you loved it. Once your foot was firmly back on solid, albeit wet, ground, Haru pressed his forehead to yours, joining you in blissed out silence. For a time, neither of you spoke or moved, but instead just enjoyed the soft moment. “Here,” he whispered against your forehead, sweeping you into his arms. He laid you back onto his bed and poured you another glass of water. “You probably need this,” he crooned, with a kiss to your cheek. He pulled his jumpsuit over his lower half and left the room, leaving you dazed and sleepy. He returned moments later with another jumpsuit and some towels. “Something for you to wear until your clothes are done washing. The bathroom is the next door down. We both need showers, gahaha!”

He wasn’t exaggerating. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him since he changed, but now our could see that he was covered from the neck down in a blend of fluids, ranging from completely clear to slightly milky, and his hair was completely pasted to his head. You could only imagine that you were in a similar state. Back to his usual chipper voice and closed smiling eyes, he said that he’s going to start the laundry and you should go shower. “Will you come with me?” you asked shyly. “It’s too small for two people, gahaha! I’ll shower when you’re done. I need to get these sheets, so you’ll have to stay down in the main room until they’re done. You nodded dizzily and rose to go to the shower.

You felt much more like yourself again after the shower, albeit a little sore and tired. Haru kissed your forehead and handed you another glass of water when you came downstairs before darting up to take one of his own. You dropped onto the couch and lazily pulled your phone out of the slightly itchy jumpsuit pocket. You mindlessly scrolled your socials, ignoring the sound of a door from the hall above you. It wasn’t until you heard a strange sound from the bottom of the stairs that you took any notice.

It was a very red faced Ren, staring in total shock and horror at you in your borrowed jumpsuit. You briefly made eye contact. Your face felt hot, and you wanted nothing more than to vanish into the couch. He immediately broke eye contact and scurried to the kitchen, muttering something about “the worst” and “that clown.” You suppressed a laugh in spite of yourself and dozed off, listening to Ren’s irritated mutterings about harassment and inappropriate behavior.

You awoke with a start when Haru shook your shoulder and called your name. You must have been asleep for a while, if the fading light coming in the window was any indication.

“Oh no! What time is it?! How long was I alsleep?!”

“You’ve only been asleep for about an hour. The laundry is nearly done drying. I guess I really wore you out, gahahaha!”

“It looks so much later,” you said sleepily. Then you remembered- Ren. He knows. He heard you two and saw you lying on the couch. “Haru…. Ren isn’t going to tell anyone, right? He knows that we were, you know…”

“Nah, I think he’s too embarrassed to say he heard it, gahaha! He completely shuts down over anything like that!”

You were still uneasy and a little embarrassed, but you could only take Haru’s word and hope for the best. The dryer buzzer sounded, startling you out of your skin. He darted off and brought your clothes, warm and smelling of a soft clean soapy scent. After dressing, Haru told you that he tried to find your panties so he could wash them for you, but they’re long gone. “Probably taken by an anomaly, if I had to guess. I’ll have to be careful to not make your skirt fly up when I take you home, gahahaha!” Your stomach lurched at the idea of an anomaly having your panties, and again at the idea of your skirt flying up and showing everyone nearby that you aren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Thank you, Haru, for everything today. You really… wow.” That last word caught in your throat. You were inexplicably feeling shy again, and saying anything detailed felt too lewd.

“Gahahaha! I should be thanking you! I never really had time, so sharing this with you means a lot!”

“Wait- you never… either?”

“Nope! I knew how, but never did it myself.”

Your jaw dropped. You had no words. “But- you! You were so good!”

“I know where all the parts are, so I just had to give it a shot, gahaha!” He smiled wide at you. “You weren’t so bad yourself!”

You had no idea how to react, so you just fell quiet and dazed. “You okay?” He looked at you, concerned, his grey eyes opened ever so slightly. “Yeah,” your voice quivered, “it’s just a lot, you know?” He pulled you into a wordless embrace, brushing your hair away from your face with feathery light touches. You felt safe, and, in spite of yourself, huffed a tiny sob. “I’m sorry,” you whined between little sobs, “ ‘m just a little overwhelmed. I’m notupsetandwe’reo-” you started to babble when Haru softly shushed you. “Don’t apologize. You have a lot going on.” He kissed the top of your head and rocked with you while you composed yourself. “I don’t want you to think I’m getting rid of you, but I have to start evening chores soon. I’d like to take you back to your dorm though.” You sniffled and nodded against his chest.

As you reached the edge of Jabberwock, he teased again that he was going to use his stigma to get you home faster, but he wasn’t sure he could keep your skirt down. You laughed uncomfortably, and he assured you that he was only joking. You walked casually back toward your dorm, talking about nothing in particular. Every time a just of wind blew through, you smoothed the back of your skirt for fear it had blown up and you were exposed for all to see.

When you arrived, he asked to come in for a moment. “Really, only a moment!” he exclaimed when you gave him a wry smile. As soon as the door closed behind you, he swept you into a tight hug, your hearts beating fast against each other. “I really did have a great day with you,” he murmured, letting you see the slightest sliver of the moons in his eyes, “I’d like to do it again sometime, if you want.” He brushed his lips over yours, holding your gaze. “I never thought I’d have a chance with you, and I’d like to see where this- we- go.” He cupped your cheek, tracing his thumb softly back and forth. Your breath caught. “I’d like that,” you sighed before pulling him into an emotion-filled kiss, softly running your fingers through his fiery red hair.

“It’s a date then?”

“Yeah.”

You felt a slight throb against your stomach. This man is like a rabbit, you thought to yourself. “Yeah,” he huffed a slight laugh, as though reading your mind. “I better go before I make myself late, gahaha!” You kissed each other one last time, and he took off like a shot.

Hotarubi

Subaru: he reads as the subbiest sub that ever subbed, or VERY Dom, just hides it (usually). I think he's on the Dom side- a pleasure/soft Dom who greatly enjoys making you twitch and scream, sometimes for hours. He might be willing to go a little into the hard Dom area if that's what his partner wants, but it's not his scene if he is choosing. Either way, he’s gonna be hella possessive.

Haku: switch with a Dom lean. He likes tossing you in bed and pinning you down as he has his way with you, but he is almost as happy when you toss and pin him. Be ready for him to break out some sort of hand cuffs and a blindfold!

Zenji: super vanilla in everything aside from a praise kink. He's by no means boring though- he'll sing your praises and whisper sweet things in your ear as he makes love to you in the most sensual ways you can imagine.

Frostheim

Jin: definitely a hard Dom with a pinch of sadist. It's clear that he's more than willing and able to hurt people if it gets him what he wants. He also obviously doesn’t mind degrading those around him. That sort of thing bleeds into the bedroom whether you want it or not.

Tohma: sadist. Fully. That monocle and gloves aren't fooling anyone, sir. He could also tame just about any brat, whether the like it or not.

Kaito: honestly, he looks too much like literally every boy I went to junior high with for me to be able to look at him through that lens. Sorry if you’re a Kaito fan, but I can’t.

Luca: while he seems to have cleared the legal adult line, he still strikes me as too young to really assess, but I'm detecting vanilla, maybe a little role playing.

Vagastrom

Alan: solid soft Dom energy (look at the people he keeps under control with just a side eye!), but he is so afraid of accidentally hurting his partner that he assumes the sub position for safety. He could be a brat tamer because, again, look at the crowd he keeps under control with a side eye and a clearing of the throat.

Sho: brat tamer energy (have you met his best friend?), but I’m mostly getting vanilla. He might bring food into the bedroom, but I just can’t see handcuffs or paddles in his weapons of choice. I could see costumes and role playing in his repertoire.

Leo: Do we need to discuss this? He’s such a brat that even Tohma would get annoyed trying to tame him. Pissing you off is an aphrodisiac to him, so here’s hoping you have a lot of patience!

Sinostra

Romeo: This might be an unpopular opinion, but I’m getting pillow princess vibes. He’ll let you take control, but you better treat him like royalty and don’t you dare do something that might damage his skin!

Taiga: he doesn’t care who’s in charge, as long as it’s rough. If there aren’t bite marks, bruises, and a broken bed frame, he’s not done yet.

Ritsu: I have a lot of trouble seeing him in that way, tbh. He would do VERY well in the kink community because he would insist on having all rules and expectations completely clear before he even unties his shoes, but I have trouble seeing him past that. Maybe dom leaning because he can make sure that the “contract” doesn’t get broken?

Mortkranken

Yuri: Another pillow princess. He might be a high maintenance control freak in most areas, and he’s high maintenance in bed while expecting you to take control and get it right.

Jiro: I can’t call him vanilla because he’s too interested in trying literally everything he can think of, but he doesn’t give dom/sub energy. I’d place him as just accidentally kinky as hell because you can’t say what you think about something until you’ve tried it at least once.

Jabberwock

Haru: I’m gonna place him as dom. He’s too used to having to run literally everything to let go, even in the bedroom. He might loosen the reigns a little, but he’s too worried about things falling apart if he doesn’t keep a hold on things.

Towa: I’d say vanilla dynamics overall, but he’s possessive as hell. I could picture him with a cnc kink, but I think he’d struggle with the first c, simply because he wants you when he wants you. We’ve all seen how he reacts to not getting what he wants.

Ren: The tsundere personality is throwing me for a loop, in all honesty. I think his partner would have to initiate most of the time, but what he would do after the ball is rolling is a mystery to me.

Dionysia

Jo: The ultimate switch. Male presenting tonight? Ok. Female presenting? You got it. Needing a soft touch? A spanking? Anything you have in mind, he’s got you.

Mio: I’d say sub leaning, partially because he’s tired after long hours in the shop, but also wrangling Shion has worn out his interest in being in charge once you’re alone. He won’t be lazy or boring, but this man wants to be told what to do instead of doing all the telling. He’ll definitely have custom gadgets for your mutual enjoyment.

Elias: A sadist masquerading as a soft dom. He won’t hurt you or degrade you, but by the time he’s done with all the teasing and pleasing you’d prefer he called you a whore and spanked a bruise onto you.

Shion: Does anyone really need to guess where he falls? He’s at the dangerous end of sadist that might put people in the hospital (or worse) because he gets too carried away with his “fun.”

Obscuary

Edward: In his day, before he got tired and seemingly bored with everything, I could see him as a general ho. Not dom, sub, or vanilla, but taking whatever he can get whenever and however he can get it. Don’t confuse that for desperation- He’s just a ho living his best unlife.

Rui: Soft dom. He wants to worship you and make you tremble. He’s gonna tie you up with silk restrains and spoil you until dawn.

Lyca: he doesn’t have enough experience to have a lean, but he is going to treat consent with the utmost respect. Tell him what you want or don’t, and he will treat it as divine law. I can’t see him taking a dom or sub side because he’s too rigid with “the rules.”

You settled behind him and rubbed his shoulders. When his shirt got in the way, you unbuttoned it enough to slip your hands under the collar and massage his skin and tense muscles. 

“Trying to distract me already?” 

“No. Just helping you out.” 

Haku chuckled, but offered no further protest. He continued his work with a soft smile, partially melting into your touch. 

Once you worked his shoulders as much as you could, you shifted his back and legs were blocked by the chair, but you were able to slip under his desk, stealing his attention from the laptop as he glanced at you between his legs. 

“Now you’re really trying to distract me.” 

“Says who? You can keep working through this, right?” You unzipped his pants with your teeth, running your hands along his thighs. “Pay attention to your work. If you can’t focus with me down here, I’ll leave you be.” 

Your incentive worked like a charm. His eyes snapped back to the screen, but you knew he was paying close attention to what you were doing. You pulled his cock out of his pants and lazily stroked him. He was already hard from your massage. 

While you were tempted to take him in your mouth, you wanted this to last. And if he was as close to finished, with his work, that is, as he claimed you didn’t want him spent before you got to have some real fun. 

The silky feel of his skin sliding over his hard shaft was mesmerizing. Every vein, the rosy flush of his tip, the spongy feel of his crown when you squeezed it. Haku’s breath hitched when you hovered over it to let your saliva drip onto him to lubricate your strokes. That held breath was released in a deep sigh as he angled his hips toward you. 

He kept steadily clicking on his keyboard, likely eager to finish his task so he didn’t have to split his attention away from you. You did catch him glancing down to watch you when his fingers paused. When your eyes met, your hand stilled and you gave him a playful glare to get him back to work. 

Even if he was too busy to give you much attention in that moment, you could tell he was happy to have you there, and for the moment that was good enough. You rested your head on his thigh and kept stroking him. The rhythmic movement was so soothing, despite the growing ache in your arm, it helped you relax more than you expected. 

Talking to him, those fleeting conversations, got you through those busy weeks you weren’t able to see him or touch him. This was what it was all leading to and it was always worth the wait. You placed a kiss to the juncture between his crown and shaft and he reached down to rub the top of your head. 

Haku spread his legs wider and his breathing deepened. You figured you would show him mercy and stop playing with him. There was a quiet grumble in your stomach as you remembered the other snacks you brought, after all. 

You unbuttoned your shirt and slid your bra down enough for your nipples to peek over the lace. He noticed the movement and glanced down, then back to his screen, remembering the last time he stopped to watch you. 

“If you punish me for looking when you give me that view, then you’re just being cruel,” Haku joked. It was a thinly veiled plea, and an adorably playful one at that. 

“You can look,” you said. His hands slid off the keyboard and his desk as he sat back, drinking the sight of you in. His work was forgotten, and you could feel how the sight of you made him harder. He looked so soft in the evening glow, even with the blue light from his computer screen casting stark light and starker shadows over his handsome features. You gave him another kiss to his shaft and put more effort into bringing him to his peak. 

It wasn’t long before his lips were parted, his eyes lidded and needy from your tight, rapid strokes. 

“Getting close,” he panted. You shifted forward so your breasts framed his cock. “Want me to give you a pretty necklace?” 

You nodded, smiling wide in anticipation of his warm seed dripping down your chest. He obliged you hardly a moment after, groaning low and throwing his head back as thick ropes shot across your chest, the kind of abstract painting even he understood the beauty of. 

The surf school was a small operation tucked behind a row of rental shacks near Lahaina. A hand-painted sign read “Maui Wave Riders – No Experience? No Problem.” You showed up fifteen minutes early on the first day, sunscreen already sweating off your arms, and joined a group of five other beginners milling around on the sand. Two college guys from California, a couple on their honeymoon, and a woman in her forties who kept checking her watch like she had somewhere better to be.

Then Gojo showed up.

He jogged down the beach carrying three boards under one arm like they weighed nothing, white hair shoved under a backward baseball cap, board shorts hanging low on his hips. “Morning, wave warriors!” he called out, voice loud enough to scatter a few nearby seagulls. “Who’s ready to get absolutely destroyed by the ocean today?”

The group chuckled nervously.

He dropped the boards with a thud and clapped his hands once. “Alright, quick roll call. I’m Gojo, your ridiculously talented instructor. I’ve been surfing these waters since I could walk, so trust me when I say I’ve seen worse than whatever you’re about to do out there.” His eyes skimmed the group and landed on you. “New face. You from Honolulu? You’ve got that city-girl posture.”

You blinked. “Yeah. How’d you—”

“City girl it is,” he said, already moving on. “Let’s get you all suited up before the sun decides to cook us alive.”

The first hour was mostly on the sand. Gojo demonstrated pop-ups with exaggerated slowness, then yelled corrections while everyone practiced on dry land. He was everywhere at once—fixing the honeymoon husband’s grip, teasing the California guys about their “mainland form,” and somehow remembering the watch-checking woman’s name after hearing it once.

You kept falling during the pretend pop-ups. Your arms shook, and sand stuck to the backs of your thighs in gritty patches.

“Easy, rookie,” Gojo said, appearing beside you without warning. He placed one hand on your waist to steady you as you tried again. His palm was warm, calloused from years of paddling. “Bend your knees more. you look like you're waiting for a bus”

You wobbled and dropped back to the sand. “I feel like a newborn giraffe.”

“Giraffes can’t surf,” he shot back, grinning. “You’re doing better than that guy over there.” He jerked a thumb toward one of the college dudes who’d just face-planted dramatically. “At least you’re not dramatic about it. Yet. Come on, try it without looking like you’re about to file a complaint with HR.”

By the time you actually got in the water, the sun was high and relentless. The waves were small, beginner-friendly, but they still felt like they held personal grudges. You managed to stand up twice—brief, glorious seconds—before the board shot out from under you and you ate it hard. Saltwater burned your nose. When you surfaced, coughing, Gojo was already paddling over on his own board, laughing.

“Ten out of ten for commitment,” he said, offering a hand to help you back onto your board. “Zero out of ten for grace. Classic city girl move. You fall like you’re texting and walking at the same time. Or maybe you’re just trying to hug the ocean. Either way, entertaining.”

“Stop calling me that,” you grumbled, but took his hand anyway. His grip was firm, steadying.

“Can’t. Forgot your actual name already. Too many new people.” He winked, then paddled backward. “Try not to drown. I don’t get paid enough for lifeguard duty. Though I’d look great doing it. Sunglasses and everything.”

The rest of the lesson blurred. Gojo flirted shamelessly with everyone. He told the honeymoon wife her form was “elegant as hell” and fake-pouted when her husband splashed him. He called the California guys “bro” every other sentence and pretended to steal one of their boards. With you, the teasing kept coming. After your third fall he yelled from twenty feet away, “Nice splash! You training for the Olympics or just showing off for me? Wait, don’t answer that—I already know it’s the second one.”

You wanted to throw your board at his head. Instead you paddled harder and ignored him, muttering under your breath about cocky instructors who talked too much.

After the last wave, everyone dragged their boards back to shore. Your legs felt like jelly. Sand caked your knees and there was a suspicious amount of it in your bikini top. Gojo tossed you a faded blue towel from the pile near the shack. It hit you square in the chest.

“Dry off before you attract every crab on the beach,” he said. Then, without asking, he reached over and tugged the strings of your bikini top tighter. “This thing’s loose. Don’t need any wardrobe malfunctions on my watch. I’ve seen enough of those this season.”

Your face heated. “I can tie my own—”

“Clearly not tight enough,” he interrupted, already stepping back. “There. Now you won’t flash the tourists. You’re welcome, city girl.”

The group dispersed slowly. You sat on the sand, wringing out your hair, when Gojo dropped down beside you holding two plastic cups of shaved ice from the nearby stand. He had sauce on his shirt from something he’d eaten earlier, and his cap was on crooked.

“Peace offering,” he said, shoving the red one toward you. “Cherry for the newbie who ate the most waves today. Don’t say I never did anything nice.”

You took it, the cold cup instantly numbing your fingers. “Thanks. You don’t have to—”

“I know.” He spooned a massive bite of blue ice into his mouth and spoke around it. “But you looked like you were about to melt. Or cry. Or both. Figured sugar would help. Plus I already paid for it so don’t waste it. I’m not made of money, you know.”

The second lesson started late because Gojo showed up fifteen minutes after the scheduled time, half a breakfast burrito in one hand and sauce on his chin. “Traffic,” he mumbled around a bite, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a smear. “Or maybe I hit snooze. Who remembers? My bad. Summer schedules, right?”

He spent the dry-land warm-up doing handstands for no reason, sand flying everywhere. “Watch this!” he yelled, then immediately toppled over laughing. Sand went everywhere, including into your water bottle. You snorted despite yourself.

“Child,” you said, shaking your bottle.

“Proud of it,” he replied, upside down for a second before collapsing. He shook sand out of his hair like a dog. Some of it landed on your leg. “Your turn, surfer girl. Impress me with those city moves.”

“No thanks. I’m trying to survive the actual surfing part. And you got sand in my drink.”

In the water he was still talking too much. Every time you wiped out he had a comment ready. “That one had style! Too bad style doesn’t keep you on the board. Maybe next time aim for the wave instead of the sandbar.” One joke about your paddling form landed so flat that the honeymoon husband winced and changed the subject. You paddled away and focused on the waves instead, wondering why you’d signed up for this when you had two whole months to fill.

After that lesson the group stuck around for a beach bonfire someone had mentioned. Gojo helped stack the wood, mostly by handing pieces to other people while he talked nonstop about his worst student stories. Sparks popped against the darkening sky. The college guys passed around snacks from a cooler. You sat on a log, legs sandy, picking at a bag of chips and trying to brush off the grit that kept sticking to your thighs.

Gojo plopped down next to you, closer than necessary, his knee bumping yours. “Not bad today, rookie. You stayed up longer on that last one. Almost looked like you knew what you were doing.”

“Yeah, until I didn’t.” You brushed sand off your calf, then reached for another chip.

He shrugged, then reached over and pressed a cold can of soda against the back of your neck without warning. You jumped at the chill. “Brain freeze prevention,” he said casually. “You seemed off after that third fall. Work emails again? Or just tired of my amazing instruction? Teachers get summers off, right? Lucky.”

You nodded, taking the can when he finally handed it over. The cold felt good against your skin. Across the fire, the watch lady was struggling to open a stubborn bag of marshmallows. Gojo hopped up immediately, nearly tripping over the log. “Here, let me. These things hate everyone.” He tore it open with his teeth, spilling a few into the sand, then helped her skewer a few on a stick. The lady laughed and thanked him. He waved it off like it was nothing and sat back down, wiping his hands on his already messy shorts.

You watched him for a moment—the easy way he’d jumped in even after forgetting half the group’s names earlier, the way he launched right back into a dumb story about a tourist who tried to surf with a GoPro attached to his forehead and nearly lost it to a wave. He kept talking, forgetting a detail midway and backtracking, but the story still landed. Something clicked as you listened. Not the jokes or the confidence. Just him helping without making a big deal out of it, even while covered in sand and burrito sauce. You looked away, took a long sip of soda, and passed the bag of chips his way instead of saying anything.

Lesson three was the rainy one. Light drizzle turned the sand dark and the water choppier. Gojo showed up on time for once, but his board shorts had a new mystery stain down the side. “Don’t ask,” he said when you glanced at it. “I tripped carrying coffee this morning. Forgot the lid. Classic me.”

Everyone wanted to cancel but he talked them into one short session. “Come on, it builds character. Or pneumonia. One of the two. What’s a little rain between friends? You teachers deal with worse every day, right?” You fell more than usual. One wipeout left you with a minor scrape on your knee from the board’s fin. Gojo had you sit on the sand under the shelter of the rental shack while he dug through the first aid kit, muttering about how he always forgot where he put the good bandages.

“It’s barely anything,” you protested, wiping water from your face.

“Still.” He crouched in front of you, antiseptic wipe in hand. His touch was light, almost careful. “Don’t want it getting infected. Then you’d blame me and never come back for more of my top-tier teaching.” He blew on the spot gently to dry the wipe, then stuck a bandage on it. “There. Battle wound. Makes you look hardcore, princess. Just don’t tell the others I played doctor or they’ll all want one.”

“Thanks, Doctor Gojo.”

He laughed. “Don’t get used to it. I forget half my own stuff anyway.” He patted his pockets, realized he’d left his own towel back at the shack, and used the hem of his shirt to wipe his hands instead, leaving a wet streak across his stomach.

After the lesson the rain eased up. Most of the group headed out, but you and Gojo ended up walking toward a food truck a short distance down the beach. “I’m starving,” he announced, kicking a piece of driftwood ahead of him. “Burrito guy owes me after yesterday’s mess. I left my wallet there last week and he held it for me like a saint.”

You went along. The truck had tacos. Gojo ordered way too much—three for himself, plus extras—and then insisted on paying for yours when you reached for your wallet. “Instructor discount,” he claimed, even though the guy behind the counter just rolled his eyes and muttered something about Gojo always saying that. You sat at a rickety picnic table under a faded umbrella, eating while waves crashed nearby. He talked nonstop—about a bad wipeout from last season where he lost his board for two hours, about forgetting his keys in the surf shack twice this month, about how the honeymoon couple asked him for couple’s surf tips that were definitely not appropriate. You laughed despite the stress still lingering from wrapping up school emails before the trip. He noticed your quieter mood and launched into an even dumber story about the time he tried to teach a group of kids and ended up wearing a floatie as a hat until one of them cried laughing. Your taco nearly fell apart in your hands from laughing.

The next lessons passed quicker, with the group slowly thinning as people’s vacations ended. Gojo remained equal parts chaos and competence. He was late again once, showing up with the half-eaten burrito and complaining about forgetting his phone charger. He still teased, though less constantly now. “Nice recovery, trouble,” he’d say after a decent ride. The hand on your waist during stance checks became routine. He stole your sunscreen again but actually applied it properly this time, thumbs pressing into the tight spots between your shoulder blades without comment. The towel toss after every session stayed the same—sometimes missing and forcing you to chase it across the sand while he laughed.

One afternoon after the group had mostly cleared out, Gojo suggested grabbing shaved ice and walking the beach path instead of heading straight back. “Not a big deal,” he said, already heading toward the stand. “I’ve got nowhere to be and you look like you could use the extra sugar before the ferry. Plus I forgot my water bottle again, so I need something cold. Teachers probably have all kinds of summer plans, huh?”

You agreed. It wasn’t called a date. You just walked side by side, cups melting in your hands, stopping once so he could tie his shoe and complain about the sand getting everywhere in his shorts. He pointed out a crab scuttling sideways and made a bad joke about it being a better surfer than half the beginners he’d had that week. You kicked sand at him. He kicked some back, missing widely because he was distracted waving at a kid building a castle nearby. The kid’s mom looked stressed, juggling a cooler and a phone call. Gojo wandered over for a second, showed the boy how to pack the sand tighter for a taller tower, then returned like it was nothing, brushing his hands off on his shorts.

“Kid had the right idea,” he said, spooning more ice. “Build big, fall big. Kinda like your first few days out there.”

You rolled your eyes but kept walking. The path wound past some rental houses, and Gojo kept up a running commentary on random things—forgetting midway through a story about a local food spot and starting over. The shaved ice dripped down your wrist, sticky and cold. You wiped it on your towel, which he’d tossed at you earlier. By the time you reached the end of the path, the sun was lower and your legs were tired in that good way. He didn’t say much about the next lesson, just mentioned the time and waved as you headed toward the ferry dock.

A couple more lessons followed the same loose pattern. Gojo showed up late one day with wet hair from an early morning swim he’d decided to take on impulse. During one session he spent half the time in the water chasing after a loose board that got away, cursing loudly enough that a nearby family gave him dirty looks. “My bad!” he called back to them, then turned to you with a grin. “See? Even the ocean thinks I talk too much. What do they teach you in school about dealing with loudmouths?”

You were getting better though. Standing up on more waves, riding them farther. He noticed, adjusting your stance with that familiar hand on your waist. “Weight back a little, rookie. There you go.” After one solid ride, he met you on the shore with a cold can of soda, pressing it against your arm this time instead of your neck. “Not bad. You’re sticking around longer than I thought you would. Two months of summer? You planning to turn pro by the end?”

One evening after a decent lesson, the two of you ended up at the food truck again, this time splitting a basket of fries because he’d forgotten his wallet but the guy knew him. You sat at the same picnic table, watching the waves, while he rambled about a surf competition he’d entered last year and placed dead last in because he showed up late. You kicked his foot under the table when he exaggerated the story. He kicked back, laughing, then complained about the fries getting cold too fast.

The sun was still high most days, and there were plenty more lessons lined up across your two months off. You started taking the ferry more regularly, packing extra snacks in your bag that sometimes ended up shared when Gojo forgot lunch. He remained forgetful—leaving the first aid kit open one day, losing track of whose towel was whose—but the teasing mixed with those small things that kept you showing up. Sand stuck to your legs after every session. The sunscreen he borrowed without asking. The way he’d toss your towel and miss half the time, forcing you to chase it while he pretended not to notice.

Another afternoon, after the group was basically just you and a couple stragglers, Gojo stuck around longer than usual. The lesson ran a bit over because he got distracted showing off a trick to the remaining college guy. You helped gather the boards, and he tossed you yours with a grin. “See? Teamwork. Or whatever.”

You ended up grabbing drinks from a nearby stand—cold sodas again—and sitting on the sand a little farther down the beach where it was quieter. He stretched out, complaining about forgetting to bring his hat today and how the sun was going to kill him. You passed him the extra snack you’d packed, some chips, and he took them without hesitation, talking about a funny parent email he imagined teachers got during summer break. The conversation wandered—him forgetting the name of a local spot, you mentioning a chaotic field trip story from last school year. Nothing big happened. Just sand on your calves, the occasional kick at each other’s feet, and him spilling half his soda when he laughed too hard at his own dumb joke.

The summer stretched on, with more days ahead on the island. You headed back to the ferry that evening with wet hair and sandy flip-flops, already thinking about the next trip over. There was still more than a month left of your break, plenty of time for more wiped-out rides, more shaved ice, and whatever else came with showing up for lessons.

No one would have been able to resist him.

A few weeks into the classes, with the original group mostly scattered back to their real lives, new faces kept showing up. A pair of retirees from Texas who wanted to try something new before their cruise, three high school kids on a family trip who spent more time laughing than paddling, and a solo traveler from Seattle who kept asking Gojo for tips on the best poke spots. It kept things from feeling too quiet on the sand. Gojo still ran the sessions the same way—late half the time, talking too much, tossing towels that missed by a mile—but now there were fresh people for him to tease.

You were getting decent on the board by then. Not great, but you could ride most beginner waves without eating sand every time. Gojo noticed, of course he did. His hand on your waist during stance checks lingered a beat longer. The teasing had shifted too, lower voices when no one else was close, dumb jokes that felt aimed just at you.

It started after one lesson when the new group had cleared out. You were rinsing off at the outdoor shower near the shack, water cold against your shoulders. Gojo leaned against the post, watching with that stupid grin. “Not bad out there, trouble. Almost looked like a real surfer instead of a teacher on summer break.”

“Almost?” You shut off the water and grabbed your towel.

“Yeah. Still paddle like you’re grading papers.” He stepped closer, sand stuck to his legs, and tugged the towel out of your hands to drape it over your shoulders himself. His fingers brushed your collarbone. Neither of you said anything for a second. Then he tilted his head toward the rocks down the beach. “C’mon. Before the next group shows up.”

Behind the rocks, where the tide pools hid you from the main stretch, it happened fast. His mouth on yours, tasting like the cherry shaved ice he’d split with you earlier. The rocks were rough against your back but you didn’t care. Gojo’s hands were everywhere—sliding under the wet bikini top he’d tied too tight that morning, pulling the strings loose with one tug. “Been wanting to do this since you showed up looking all city-girl annoyed,” he muttered against your neck, voice rough.

You laughed, breathless, and yanked at his board shorts. “You’re still annoying.”

“Good. Means you’ll keep coming back.” He lifted you against the rock, one hand steady on your thigh. It was quick and messy, salt on your skin, his laugh turning into a groan when you bit his shoulder. Sand got everywhere. Afterward you both sat there catching your breath, his arm loose around you while waves lapped nearby. He tossed your towel at your face like always. “Don’t say I never clean up after class.”

That became the pattern. Lessons during the day with the rotating crew of new students—Gojo showing off for the high school kids, helping the retirees with their balance in that sneakily kind way that still got to you—then sneaking off after. Sometimes right there behind the rocks if the timing worked. Other times you took the ferry back together and ended up at the little apartment you’d rented for the summer, a studio with a view of the harbor and a bed that creaked under both of you.

One afternoon after a rainy session like the old days, the new group bailed early. Gojo drove you to your place in his beat-up Jeep, windows down, complaining the whole way about forgetting his keys again. “Left them in the shack. Again. You’d think I’d learn after the third time.”

Inside the apartment it was slower. He pushed you against the kitchen counter first, hands on your waist like he was correcting your stance, only this time his fingers dipped under your shorts. “You looked good out there today,” he said, mouth on your jaw. “Steady. Made me want to skip the rest of the lesson.”

You hooked a leg around him, pulling him closer. “Then stop talking and do something about it.”

He did. Lifted you onto the counter, dropping to his knees right there with the fridge humming behind him. His tongue worked you over until your fingers were in his white hair, tugging hard. When he stood up again, board shorts shoved down, he fucked you right on the edge, one hand braced beside you, the other gripping your hip. The cold can of soda from your fridge pressed against your neck at one point—he grabbed it mid-thrust and held it there, grinning when you shivered. “Brain freeze prevention, remember?”

You came hard, legs shaking, and he followed right after, messy and loud like everything else he did. Afterward you both ended up on the couch, half-dressed, sharing the rest of the soda while sand from your legs dusted the cushions. He rambled about a dumb tourist story from that morning, forgetting the punchline halfway through. You kicked his foot and he kicked back, laughing.

His penthouse was different. A few nights later he talked you into staying over instead of taking the last ferry. The place was nicer than you expected—big windows overlooking the water, but messy as hell. Boards leaned against the wall, empty soda cans on the counter, a towel draped over the couch like he’d forgotten it there days ago.

“Welcome to my palace,” he said, kicking clothes out of the way. “Don’t judge the decor. I’ve been busy.”

You didn’t judge. The place was a mess—surfboards propped against the wall, empty soda cans on the nightstand, a pile of board shorts and towels on the floor—but the second the door shut you were on each other. Gojo backed you straight into his bedroom, hands already shoving your bikini top up, mouth latching onto one tit while he palmed the other roughly. “Fuck, these have been teasing me all day under that top,” he muttered, sucking hard enough to leave a dark mark right where your bikini would hide it tomorrow.

He pushed you down onto the unmade bed, sheets already tangled from whenever he’d last slept. You yanked his board shorts down, his cock springing free, hard and leaking at the tip. Gojo grinned that cocky grin as he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand. “Look at me,” he ordered when your eyes fluttered shut, sliding into you in one slow, deep thrust. You were soaked from the day’s tension, and he groaned loud as your pussy clenched around him. “That’s it, trouble. So fucking tight for your annoying instructor.”

He fucked you like that for a long time—slow and deliberate at first, hips rolling deep so his cock dragged against that spot inside you with every stroke. His free hand slid down to pinch your nipple, then moved lower to rub your clit in tight circles. You arched up, legs wrapping around his waist, but he held you right where he wanted, controlling the pace. “Say it,” he teased, voice low and rough as he ground against you. “Who’s the best instructor on this whole fucking island?”

“You’re the only one, idiot,” you gasped, trying to move your hips faster.

He laughed, dark and filthy, then flipped you over onto your stomach without pulling out. He gripped your ass with both hands, spreading you open as he started pounding harder. The wet slap of skin filled the room, his balls hitting your clit with every thrust. “Fuck yes, take it just like that. Been thinking about this pussy since you fell off that board the first day.” He reached around to rub your clit again, fast and rough, while his other hand fisted in your hair. You came hard, crying out into the mattress, pussy pulsing around his cock. Gojo didn’t stop, fucking you through it until your legs shook.

He pulled out, flipped you onto your back again, and shoved your legs up toward your chest. He thrust back in deep, hips snapping. Sweat dripped down his chest as he railed you, talking the whole time like he couldn’t help it. “Gonna fill this cunt up. You’re gonna feel me leaking out of you on the ferry tomorrow.” A few more brutal thrusts and he came with a groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you. He stayed there a minute, cock twitching, before pulling out and watching his cum drip from your pussy with a satisfied smirk.

You both collapsed, sweaty and spent, his arm slung over you while he complained about the sand still stuck to his back. “Found some in my ass crack earlier. Your fault.”

Even his car wasn’t off limits. One evening after a long lesson with the new retirees asking endless questions, Gojo pulled you into the Jeep parked behind the shacks. “Quick one before you ferry out,” he said, already tugging you into the back seat. It was cramped and ridiculous—your knee hit the door, his elbow knocked the seat—but he made it work, yanking your bikini bottoms aside and pulling you onto his lap.

His cock slid into you in one go, your pussy still slick from earlier thoughts about him. “Bet those Texas folks think I’m just giving extra pointers,” he grunted, hands on your ass guiding you up and down. “If only they knew I was balls deep in my favorite student.” The windows fogged fast as you rode him hard, the car rocking with every bounce. He sucked marks onto your tits, one hand slipping between you to rub your swollen clit until you were biting his shoulder to stay quiet. “Cum on my cock like a good girl,” he growled. You did, clenching tight around him. He followed right after, filling you up again with a low curse.

Afterward he wiped you both down with a random shirt from the floor, then drove you to the dock with his hand on your thigh, whistling like nothing happened.

The hooking up didn’t change the daytime stuff much. New students kept the lessons lively. The high school kids thought Gojo was hilarious when he did his handstand fails. One of the retirees brought extra snacks and shared them during breaks. Gojo still stole your sunscreen, still pressed cold drinks to your skin after hot sessions, still called you trouble or rookie when others could hear. But now there were these stolen moments—behind rocks with quick, desperate fucks where he covered your mouth so no one heard you moan; in your apartment where he stayed late and left his board shorts on your floor; in his messy penthouse where you woke up to him burning toast the next morning; in the car where everything felt urgent and stupid and perfect.

One afternoon with the group thinned to just you and the Seattle guy for a bit, Gojo kept the lesson short. Afterward he grabbed your hand and pulled you behind the rocks again. This time he bent you over a smooth boulder, yanking your bottoms down and thrusting into you from behind while waves crashed close enough to spray mist on your skin. His hand snaked around to rub your clit fast, mouth on your shoulder biting down. “Good girl, squeezing my cock so fucking tight,” he muttered when you came hard, clenching around him. He pulled out and finished on your back in thick stripes, then used your towel to clean it up, tossing it at you with a grin.

Back at the apartment that night it was lazier. You both showered together first, water running over sand and salt. He washed your hair without being asked, fingers careful, but it didn’t stay innocent long. He fucked you against the shower wall, your leg hooked over his hip, pounding deep until the water ran cold and you came again with his name on your lips. In bed after, he was half-asleep, arm around your waist, muttering something about forgetting to set an alarm for tomorrow’s lesson.

The summer kept going, weeks blending with lessons, new faces rotating in and out, and these hookups that left you sore in the best way. Gojo remained Gojo—late, messy, overconfident, talking too much—but you kept showing up anyway.

You zipped up the last duffel bag on the apartment floor, the sound loud in the quiet studio. Gojo sat on the edge of the unmade bed, legs kicked out, watching you like he was trying to memorize the way you folded your towels. The same faded blue one from the surf shack was stuffed in there somewhere, still smelling faintly of ocean and sunscreen.

“Two and a half months,” he said, not for the first time. “Every damn day. And now you’re just… packing.”

You didn’t look up right away. Your hands kept moving, shoving flip-flops into the side pocket. “Summer’s over, Satoru. I’ve got lesson plans due next week. Kids don’t care that I learned to stand on a board.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, white hair messy from the wind earlier. “Yeah, well. I got used to you showing up. Even when you were terrible at popping up. Especially when you were terrible.”

You finally glanced over. His usual grin was missing. He looked like a kid who’d lost his favorite toy—slouched, one foot tapping the floor. You sat on the bed next to him, shoulder bumping his. “I’ll come back. Teachers get three weeks at Christmas. And next summer’s already booked in my head. Maui again. Same stupid lessons.”

He snorted, but it sounded forced. “You better. Who else is gonna chase my towel when I miss the toss?” His hand found yours, fingers lacing tight. “I’m gonna be bored as hell. New groups every week, all of them asking dumb questions. No one to call me an idiot after I forget the first aid kit again.”

You squeezed back, throat tight. The last few weeks had been a blur of lessons with whoever showed up—more retirees, some honeymooners, a bachelor party that Gojo mocked relentlessly—and stolen time in between. Behind the rocks, in his Jeep, in this apartment where the bed still creaked from last night. Now it was quiet. Just the hum of the fridge and the distant harbor noise.

“I’m not exactly thrilled either,” you said, leaning into him. “Honolulu’s gonna feel small after this.”

Gojo pulled you closer, arm around your waist like he did during stance checks. “Stay one more night. Ferry tomorrow instead.”

“You said that yesterday.” You turned your head and kissed his jaw. “And the day before.”

He sighed, dramatic as always, but stood up anyway. “Fine. But I’m driving you to the airport. No arguments. And I’m stealing one of your sodas for the road.”

The drive was mostly quiet. Gojo’s Jeep rattled over the roads, windows down, his hand on your thigh like always. He complained about forgetting his sunglasses, then about the traffic, then about how the next instructor rotation was some guy who talked even more than him. You let him ramble, watching the island scenery slide by. Every now and then he’d squeeze your leg, like he was checking you were still there.

At the airport drop-off, he parked illegally for a minute, hazards on. You grabbed your bags from the back while he hovered. “Text when you land. And when you unpack. And when you remember how much you miss my shaved ice.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “I will. Promise. Christmas break, okay? I’ll book the ferry or whatever.”

He nodded, then cupped your face with both hands and kissed you. It wasn’t quick. Deep and a little desperate, his thumb brushing your cheek. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “Don’t forget the instructor who taught you to surf. Or whatever.”

“Hard to forget.” You kissed him once more, quick, then stepped toward the doors. He watched until you were inside, hands in his pockets, that sad-slouch still there. You didn’t turn around again until security, and by then the Jeep was gone.

Two months later, you trudged up the stairs to your Honolulu apartment, keys jingling. The school day had been long—parent conferences, a kid puking in class, endless grading. Your shoulders ached like after a bad wipeout. All you wanted was a cold drink and to kick off your shoes.

The door across the hall was propped open. Movers carried in a surfboard and a pile of random junk—empty cans, towels, a familiar backward cap. You stopped, staring.

Gojo stepped out, wiping his hands on his shorts, white hair sticking up. He spotted you and grinned like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. “Hey, new neighbor. Took you long enough to get home from work."

You blinked, bags slipping off your shoulder. “What the hell?”

“Surprise.” He leaned against the doorframe, messy as ever. “Penthouse was too quiet without you yelling at me for being late. Figured Honolulu needed a surf instructor. Or at least one annoying one. Lease is month-to-month, so don’t get any ideas about me being permanent or whatever.”

You stood there, heart doing something stupid. The hallway smelled like his sunscreen already. “You moved here? For real?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were bright. “Had to. Couldn’t wait till Christmas. Plus, I forgot my favorite towel in your bag. Needed an excuse to see you every day again.” He kicked a box aside. “Come on. Help me unpack before I lose my keys in here. Then I’ll make you a shitty toast dinner like old times.”

You laughed despite the long day, crossing the hall. Sand from his shoes already dusted the floor. “You’re still impossible.”

A garden. That’s what he’s sure he looks like. 

A garden of reds and blues and purples, spanning from behind his ears to between his thighs. From a single scratch of your teeth, his pale pallor would give rise to blooming red anemones, blue hydrangeas, and violet petunias. In a way, the two of you were matching, mutually littered by blooming oases of color born from curses alike. The only difference was that your flowers were real, vines snaking across the skin of your back, burrowing into your veins, blooming with anomalous reds and whites and purples, signaling an untimely death. His were mere bruises, placed at random on his skin, signaling both your temporary possession of him and the truth of who he was, the curse of desire he’d been born with. 

He doesn’t think, in all his years, he’s quite been taken like this. 

Subaru has experience. He is no blushing virgin. But, everything about this encounter was a stark contrast to any of the previous ones he’d had, before he began to abstain. The way your fingers run over his skin is so mind-numbingly gentle, and simultaneously, the way your nails pierce into his skin is so mind-meltingly gratifying. The visions that plagued him with every touch were nothing short of vulgar—even if you weren’t undressed and thinking of him. He would see your point of view of your interactions, and he’d watch as your eyes would hungrily rake over his form, hear the lascivious thoughts about him bouncing around your head, and feel the heat spread through your body if he so much as glanced your way—all while he was none the wiser. They were embarrassing visions, but satisfying. He could finally read your intentions, even if said intentions left him trembling and unable to form coherent sentences, sprawled out on your bed. He felt completely and utterly pliant underneath you, as though he were just a toy to be played with. He was a mere puppet on a string, pulled into position after position, stretching even his wits far past what he believed he could take - and then some. 

He couldn’t be bothered to count how many times now that he’d been close, so close, just for you to pull it all away from him, smirking at him, daring him to protest. 

“Come on,” you’d say, holding his chin ever so gently between your fingers and directing his gaze to meet yours. “Don’t pout. I’ll give you everything you want very soon.”

“Yes,” he’d reply, his voice weak, quiet, and stuttered; sometimes muffled by your lips or your breasts or your fingers or his own teeth biting down hard into his own lips to prevent him from crying out. “I’ll be good, Miss.”

“Good boy,” you’d reply. Every time you said that, he would want to come undone under you, further than he already has. He would feel the knots piling up in his groin, tightening, begging for release. 

Eventually, after hours of leading him on what felt like a hopelessly dry journey full of denial, you give him everything he wanted. His thanks cannot come out in words, his throat too occupied spouting forth deep groans and salacious whines—rather, his thanks come out in fluids—saltwater tears and bitter cum flowing from him all at once.  Your continued ministrations send him into overdrive - because of course, you wouldn’t stop now. 

He’s seeing stars, his peak prolonged past what he thought possible. His whole body is shivering, his hands desperate to find something to cling to. The mix of pleasure and pain overwhelms him so terribly that he feels like he’s seconds away from imploding, his mind collapsing in on itself. When he manages to gather himself enough, he speaks through his pornographic moans, pleading with you to stop your movements and give his unwinding brain a moment to collect its spilling senses. He is more than aware that his begging falls on very deaf ears, but he does it anyway—knowing, only after a few hours, how you like to see him cry. 

After all this, when you hurriedly press your lips against his as you ride out your own high, your walls squeezing around him and your nails digging into his scalp as you pull on his hair, he happily melts into you, almost forgetting for a moment that after this, he would have to make himself scarce. He decides he’s going to miss this - the feeling of your nails on his skin, the pain of the bruises you left behind, the pleasure of finally coming undone after years of holding it together. But he had a reputation to uphold, a promise to himself he needed to fulfill. 

When the sun rises the following morning, the pungent smell of his arousal and the lingering taste of you on his tongue only serve to strengthen his resolve. He doesn’t bother waking you, and in moments, he’s dressed and headed for the door, ready to leave the previous night behind him. He doesn’t stop himself from giving you one pitying glance before he leaves, figuring it was the kinder thing to do. 

Unfortunately for Subaru, you’re far more persistent than he thought you would be. He continues to have to find excuses to avoid you, citing that he was preoccupied or busy, or having Haku relay any messages of importance. He pretended to bury himself in a project, as most Hotarubi students do, hoping you’d recognize that he wanted this to go no further. The “project” technically wasn’t an excuse, especially since he was working on his own recovery. His voice was still rough from overuse, his skin was still covered in bruises and hickeys and your fingerprints, and he still had trouble walking in a straight line if his mind so much as wandered to an implication of that night. He constantly felt distracted, so much so that, if he even chose to go to class, he would end up staring aimlessly at the walls or through windows. He would try not to let his thoughts find their way to you, but they always did. Anyone who noticed thankfully chalked it up to his poor excuse of a project, but the balance was still disturbed. Things were still wrong. He couldn’t find his previous footing any longer. He has to resist the urge to knock on your door again and plead for some form of freedom. 

It’s becoming frustrating to him. This was not the plan. 

He was not supposed to flinch. He was not supposed to falter. He was not supposed to break. And yet, here he was. He flinched every time he heard your voice, trying his best to shoo off the memory of how your voice transformed into moans above him. He faltered every time you made eye contact with him, quickly glancing away and hoping you wouldn’t consider his silence impolite. There were more cracks forming in his facade than before, rapidly spreading throughout his body, threatening a nearly inevitable break. He was flinching. He was faltering. He was breaking. This was not at all appropriate, not in the slightest. He had thought that, from indulging once, his mind would finally be clear of it. But the bruises wouldn’t go away, clear evidence of his disobedience and ignorance and straying sight. The proof of his desires, littered over him in bright color, red and blue and purple. The ghost of the taste of you remained on his tongue, and the sounds you mutually made at your bodies entwining replay in his ears like a broken record. At night, he’d have to resist the urge to press on his bruises, attempting to reignite the pain and pleasure you’d so masterfully enacted on him then. He’d never been so far gone.

He was supposed to be good at resisting temptation. This was supposed to be a slip-up to remind him of his role to play and the rewards that come with discipline and self-control. And yet, his brain always seemed to stop at the same question: why did the indulgence feel so good? So liberating? If the indulgence was forbidden, by his own hand no less, how long had he deprived himself for the slightest bit of freedom to feel like heaven itself? Would it feel like that every time he gave in? 

Indulgence had not been the cure-all he’d expected. How could he be such a fool? Of course, temptation was never to be followed. Desires were never to be fed. Indulgence was the opposite of control. There had to be a way to salvage this. There had to be.

Thankfully for Subaru, inspiration comes in all forms, and there were spaces open and secluded enough for him to practice his old performances. There was a small open studio in Hotarubi. It was occasionally used for painting, though when it was empty, the mirrored walls and railings served as a perfect place to dance, stretch, and clear his head. He enjoys how muscle memory takes over when he dances, the familiar stretch of his muscles comforting and limbering.

He's in a front stretch currently, feeling the satisfying burn in his inner thigh as he leans forward, clasping his left foot with both hands. He bends into the stretch, leaning his forehead on his knee.

Subaru isn't the sporty type. While he understands the importance of building endurance, he prefers to do so by increasing his core strength or engaging in stretching exercises. His flexibility was something he prided himself on. Though he didn't mind being out of practice every now and again, as he was now. It provided him with a much-needed refresher, and the stimulating burn in his muscles may prove to distract him from the desire that threatened to consume him.

He could also calm his mind and think while stretching. Approaching this with a clear head may be the better option, all things considered. Perhaps indulging had been a mistake. He still bore the bruises, and his failing to resist pressing on them persisted them into delaying their healing. Despite how he was aware that the blame was his to bear for failing to resist you, he still found bitterness towards you. You were beautifully tempting, but he shouldn't have attempted to turn you into a lesson for his own benefit. It'd only backfired, and now he was just bitter instead of persistently harboring and quelling his arduous desire. It would've been better to hold it all in.

His lesson wasn't learned fully, as he still felt bitter, but at least he knew to resist you.

He hears the door to the studio click open, and he perks up, looking in that direction. Sometimes, Lyca or Zenji and Haku would come by while he was stretching to keep him company, so he wasn't too alarmed by it.

His mood sours rather quickly when he sees you peering in, faux curious innocence plastered on your face. Since knowing you in more ways, he's gotten better at seeing through you.

He straightens up, sliding his leg around and switching to a seated position, resting his elbows on his knees. He does the best he can to shift his face into a guarded, but polite expression. "MC!" He nods at you politely. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Sorry for interrupting," you step inside, nodding to him. "Haku told me where you were. I have something to ask you." Your smile is deceptively innocent, as is his.

He stands, rising to properly greet you. He takes note of how your eyes swish over his form, and he has to resist the urge to shrink into himself. Maybe he should have worn gym shorts over his ballet tights. He crosses an arm over his torso, holding his elbow for some semblance of comfort. "Go on, ask me anything." His face is in his ever benevolent smile. Of course, it's insincere, and he really doesn't want you to ask him anything, but since you're playing the innocence game, he can too.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

The bluntness of the question puts Subaru off a little, but your face remains in that mask of innocence, so he figures he'll play along. "Oh, my apologies, I didn't mean to make it seem that way!" A white lie. He was sure you knew it. "As I'm sure you've heard, I've been working on a project. It happens to take up the majority of my time." He does his best to sound and seem flustered, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head. He even perfects his voice, trembling just slightly. Perfectly convincing, he was sure, but maybe not to you.

"Oh, right! A project!" Your eyes light up with curiosity as you take a step towards him. "What's the project about?"

He takes a step back. His anger spikes at your gall, though he manages to keep himself even with a deep breath and a reminder of where anger got him. He huffs a small laugh, putting on a friendly air. "I can't reveal that yet."

"Aww, come on," you say teasingly, and Subaru feels his smile twitch unseemingly. "Can't spare any details? Not even for the honor student?" You step towards him again, trying to close the distance.

He takes a larger step back, replacing the distance, and then some. For a minute, he's sure his ire is showing on his face clearly. He can feel his eyebrows quirk downwards minutely and his eyes lose all spark before he quickly covers it up with a whelmed smile. "Unfortunately not, MC—"

You interrupt him with a wider step towards him, forcing him against the mirrored wall and placing your hands on the railing on either side of him, boxing him in. "Not even when you were in my bed just a week ago—?"

"DON'T EVER MENTION THAT AGAIN, YOU FUCKING—" His teeth sink into his thumb, stopping himself. Slut. Whore. Skank. Tramp. Harlot. Bitch. Jezebel. He wonders which one he would have used if he hadn't managed to stop himself in time.

Despite your iron grip on the railing, his ghoul strength makes it easy to push your arm out of the way with ease, walking several steps away from you, keeping his teeth lodged into his thumb. When he begins to taste copper, he releases his thumb, wiping some of the blood from his lips.

After a few deep breaths, reminding himself of what happened the last time he lost himself, he turns to you, genuinely apologetic. He doesn't meet your gaze. "…I apologize. Forgive me for lashing out like that." And he does mean that. Losing his mind is never something he wants to do. The last time he'd failed to get a proper handle on his anger, it had cost him a fair bit of his reputation and self-respect. Indulgence. That was what led him here.

Indulgence in you.

When he raises his gaze to meet your own, he wishes he could say he's surprised to find you smiling placidly at him, perhaps a little shaken from his earlier outburst. "Don't apologize," you start, moving towards him again. You approach and speak slowly, as though soothing him. "I pushed you to react."

He wants to ask why, but he knows you're going to explain anyway. Despite himself, he allows you to back him up against the mirrored walls again, feeling the curve of his spine hit the railing again. He sighs, holding his hands to his chest, his thumb fully healed already. He has to resist the urge to bite it again in hopes it would distract him from you.

"I deserve your anger, don't I?" You close in on him, getting as close as you can without touching him. "I purposely ignored a significant boundary you've placed."

As true as that was, he didn't want to go down the path of justifying his own anger. You were undeserving of his outburst, even if he couldn't really be blamed for it. He finds himself shrinking away, pressing himself further into the railing.

Subaru forgets that you're persistent, but you never fail to remind him of that, especially when you go so far as to press your torso against his, peering up at him. Your gaze was knowing, and Subaru's reminded that just as he can read you, you can read him. "There's nothing wrong with being angry over that, right?"

His heart is beating so loudly he can feel it in his ears and throat. He feels color rise to his face all at once, starting in his ears and quickly spreading to his face. He takes shallow breaths, scared that inhaling too deeply will press his chest further into yours. He bites on his tongue, not stopping when he tastes copper again. He has to resist. Resist the urge to blame. To give in. To let his bitterness and anger and desire rule his actions. It infuriates him that you're right. There is nothing wrong with his anger. But not finding fault with his anger could lead to not finding fault in his other destructive emotions.

"Maybe your outburst was a bit much," you tease. He flinches as you press your chest against him further, rolling your lip between your teeth. He reaches behind him and grips the railing. His eyes flit between your eyes, your lips, and your chest pressed flush against his. He hardly dared to breathe any longer, fearing the way his body would react if he was stimulated any further. "…But, your anger is valid. It's a normal feeling."

Your words shouldn't be comforting to him in any way. He should condemn them, even though they were true. And yet, part of him feels slightly lighter at that. Even though this line of thinking could lead him to overindulgence, maybe you were right. Maybe it'd be okay to give himself some leeway, if only a little.

"Desire is also a valid feeling too, you know." Your words are slower now, hypnotic. Subaru finds himself watching your tongue move in your mouth as you pronounce the words, reigniting the memory of how that tongue felt on his body. He clenches his fists around the railing harder. He falls right back to where he was previously, reminding himself of the pleasures of control and the dangers of indulgence. Desire was to be controlled. Anger was to be controlled. Nevermind how good any of it felt, nevermind the way his bruises seem to light on fire when you're near, or how his mind seems to scramble like it did when he was underneath you, or how the memories of the sensations he felt that night replay themselves on him in real time. He could feel your teeth, your tongue, your hands, your lips, your chest… everything was replaying itself, over again, just from this.

"You've still got some blood on your lips, by the way…" He doesn't move as you inch closer, feeling his body light up with anticipation as you drag yourself higher up his body, tilting your chin closer to his. He sees your tongue peek out of the corner of your lips.

He knows better than to give in here. The entire reason he's here is to avoid you. But oh, every time he inhales, his chest presses against yours further; he can detect a strangely intoxicating floral scent, and the lust swimming in your gaze only draws him in further. Your breath just barely reaches his chin, and he fails to resist the heat spreading through his body, causing a stirring in his abdomen.

"…Where?" He encourages you, despite himself. His voice doesn't come out any higher than a whisper, but it seems to penetrate the silence in the studio. All that can be heard is your heavy breathing and his shallow breaths in response.

"Right… there…" You bring a finger to your lips, dragging the tip of your finger in a small circle to indicate where it was on his face. He exhales, clinging so hard to the railing he fears it may creak from his strength.

He remains unmoving as you draw closer still, his gaze flickering over your lips and your gaze, glued to his lips. He doesn't roll his lips between his teeth, or even purse them. Instead, he parts them, just slightly.

You move closer, your tongue slipping from between your lips. He hesitates, but doesn't decide soon enough.

He doesn't move, doesn't flinch, doesn't breathe. He stands completely still, staring, waiting.

He should push you away. He should yell at you again. He should remind you of the precarious positions you both held at this school, and how your recklessness threatened the balance. He should know better. He shouldn't give in.

But then he feels your tongue gently graze his bottom lip, and it all falls apart. He tries not to moan, instead letting out a throaty exhale. He savors the feeling of it dragging across the length of his lip and feels his body shudder. He clenches his thighs together, trying to keep from getting too excited.

When you pull back, tucking your tongue into your mouth, Subaru expects more. He knows you're not done. And he's proven right when you bring your finger to your lips again, pointing to a spot just below the corner of your lips. "Here, too…" Your voice is breathy, your eyes are lidded, and Subaru feels himself drawn in all over again.

He holds still, waiting as you lean in again, quicker this time. Your tongue drags along the corner of his lips, tracing the border as though lapping up the blood. Knowing what he wants, he parts his lips, wider this time. He can't tell if your tongue slipping inside is an accident or on purpose, but he doesn't care. He moves his tongue to join yours, pressing his lips to yours in an open-mouthed kiss.

He pulls you into him all at once, circling an arm around your shoulders and pressing his body flush against yours. His other hand reaches up to hold you by the back of your neck, his thumb pressing harshly into your jaw. The visions come pouring in all at once, and they're all exactly the same as they were before. It's a repeat of you yearning for him—all over again. He can feel his familiar bruises bloom with heat as you press against him, a sickening warmth spreading from his front to his spine. He allows himself to cling to you, as though his grasp slipping for a moment would ruin the trance. His eyes, feeling like lead, close heavily, focusing all his feeling to every point where your bodies connected—his thighs slotted against yours, his stomach and chest shifting in tandem with you, and his hands and lips pressing into your skin. It was all the same, like nothing had changed. If he kept his eyes closed, he could almost imagine he was back in your bed, arching his back and pressing himself against you with urgency, partially pleading to get it over with and partially enjoying the way you made him wait.

He leans away from you for a moment, catching his breath, admiring the string of saliva connecting your lower lips. He inhales deeply, trying to calm his heightened senses. Faintly, he smells flowers—light and sweet, deceptively charming. He shifts, pressing his nose into your neck, inhaling again. Your natural scent mingles with the faint scent of flowers. A shiver runs down his spine, feeling himself growing tense with need again. He lifts himself from your neck, hurriedly kissing you again, drowning himself in your feeling, your taste, your scent.

Your hands move from the railing and dig into his hips, and he groans, jerking them forward and grinding into you. The motion draws a soft moan from you. Though the noise is nearly swallowed by Subaru's louder gasps in comparison, the sound isn't any less tantalizing to him. He pushes his hips forward again, feeling his already hardened length stiffen further from the friction against your thigh. He feels you grind against him in response, pulling his hips closer to yours, separated only by thin layers of fabric.

Subaru gasps for air when you pull away again, trailing kisses down his neck instead. He whimpers, feeling your tongue trace gentle circles on the sensitive skin. He wraps his arms around you, his fingers curling into your blazer. He bites his lip to quiet himself, but he's unsuccessful—your soft, open-mouthed kisses drawing whimpers, groans, and whines alike from him. He felt like he was putty in your hands, perfectly compliant and pliable to whatever you desired. He hesitantly opens his eyes, blinking away tears from how overstimulated he was, when he sees his reflection in the mirror.

There he was, backed up against the wall, you pressed up against every inch of him. You were buried in his neck, your hands shifting his hips to your liking. His face was flushed a deep red, both from building heat and arousal. His hands were pulling desperately on your blazer, overwhelmed by the pleasure you kept subjecting him to. His expression was slack-jawed and comical, his eyes clouded with lust. And god, he hated it.

A sinking feeling settles into his abdomen. Suddenly, his reflection feels grotesque. His clouded expression changes, becoming one of fear before hardening into anger. He had fallen for it all over again. The feeling of you pressed against him at every inch shifted from intoxicating to disgusting. Your mouth on his neck feels violating. And the faint scent of flowers becomes nothing short of repulsive. He doesn't even bother trying to process his anger, acting on it before he can fall again.

He rips his hands from your blazer and pushes you away from him, almost forgetting to reel in his strength. As a result, you stumble backwards several paces, almost losing your balance. He turns away from you, steadying himself against the railing. He cradles his head in one hand, feeling a pounding headache coming on.

He'd done it again. He'd fallen for it again. He almost retches, feeling the taste of you swim in his mouth. He knew, somewhere in him, that he only had himself to blame, but his body rejects the idea, shivering. He swallows deeply, resisting the urge to vomit at the scent of flowers still in the air. Unable to accept the fault as his own, he turns back to you, anger flashing in his gaze.

You flinch at his sudden change in demeanor, already looking confused from when he'd pushed you away. "Subaru, what's—"

"Get out."

You tilt your head questioningly, frustration working its way into your expression. "What? Why—"

"Get out, MC." He repeats himself, holding a hand up in your general direction. He's not sure whether this is to protect himself from your allure or to feel like he could widen the distance between you, but he does it anyway. It's futile, but a comfort nonetheless.

You scoff, and Subaru feels his ire rise. "What's your problem?!" Your voice lifts in volume, your face contorting in anger. Subaru is sure his expression matches yours. "Why do you keep pushing me away? I haven't even—"

"Get out," Subaru snarls, the words dripping with disgust. He tries to ignore the bile in his throat that rises just from looking at you.

"Subaru—"

"GET OUT!" He shouts at the top of his lungs, chest heaving with the combined effort of reeling in his aggression and forcing himself to keep standing. The message must now be clear, because your face falls immediately, settling somewhere between annoyance, anger, and dejection.

You turn on your heel and march out of the studio. Subaru listens to the clack of your shoes on the wooden floor and rejoices at the sound of the door opening and slamming closed behind you. He collapses onto the floor, weakness in his legs from witnessing the visions catching up to him. He covers his mouth with one hand, swallowing over and over again to keep down his urge to vomit at the scent of flowers, still in the air.

This was beginning to feel like a cycle. Subaru could've sworn he'd repeated this, somewhere, at some point.

You were avoiding Subaru. This should feel unfamiliar, but he almost feels as though this is a path he's traversed before. The way you have begun to seem just out of reach—leaving moments before he enters a room, ending a conversation if he happens to be nearby, neglecting to wave at him when you cross paths—this has happened before, but in the opposite direction. He recognizes your actions as almost exact carbon copies of everything he did to avoid you.

To say he's pissed off isn't accurate, but annoyed doesn't cover enough ground. Doing this feels like going in circles. He could predict it already. He would find himself chasing, you would resist, he would find you, you would tease him, he would pin you down, and—

He bites down on his tongue harshly, wincing slightly, halting the depraved, violent fantasy that threatened to curve his trajectory.

No, actually. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't chase you to begin with. If he knew at all what was good for him, he would sit still and let this distance persist. It was better this way. This had to be the answer. He'd felt no regret when he pushed you away after staring at his abhorrent reflection with a level of disgust he'd never felt before. Your lips pressed sloppily into his neck, reigniting week-old bruises in just the right way, his fingers curled helplessly into your blazer, his eyes clouded over with lust—the image has bile rapidly rising to his throat. He swallows it down, thoughtlessly chewing at his gloved thumb, failing to flinch when the taste of copper leaks over his tongue.

"Hey, Suba, you're bleeding," Lyca warns, grabbing Subaru's sleeve and ripping his thumb away from his teeth. He shocks awake from his stupor, staring down at his ruined glove, bitten through, crimson blood oozing from a cut on his thumb. "What's up with you?" Lyca grumbles, wrapping his hand around Subaru's wrist, careful not to touch his skin.

The light rain of Hotarubi plips on his cheek, bringing Subaru back to reality. He was walking with Lyca to the secluded hut on the outskirts of the dorm. Bamboo and mist surrounded them on all sides. He'd been so far gone he hadn't noticed he was beginning to veer off the path, his footsteps heading for the exit instead. He was losing it; he knew it. If he couldn't even keep his cool around Lyca, how had he been acting around the other students? He shakes his wrist from Lyca's grasp, apologizing. "I'm sorry, Lyca." He rubs his wrist with his other hand, observing the cut on his thumb as it heals. "I've just been distracted."

Lyca hums absentmindedly in response, watching him carefully. "Is it that project you were working on?" He asks bluntly, looking at Subaru expectantly.

Subaru stiffens, swallowing thickly. He guesses, in a way, it could be considered a project. Though he's not sure what the finished product will be. "Ah… I suppose you could say that, yes."

From the look Lyca's giving him, Subaru knows he's unconvinced. Subaru hopelessly plasters a nervous smile on his face, hoping it's either convincing or conveys the message, 'Don't ask'. Lyca, as expected, does not pick up on it. "Why are you smilin' all weird? Is the project hard or something?"

Subaru grimaces, shaking his head. "No, it's—" He stops, considering his words. He's not sure what, but something presses him to be honest with Lyca. "…Kind of." He starts walking again, and Lyca follows, turning down the hidden path to the hut.

"What's making it hard?"

"Ideation," Subaru answers, the word slipping out before he could think about it. Lyca gives him a quizzical look, so he continues, "I would like for this project to…" He trails off, considering how to phrase this. Stay in line? Obey his vision? Go the right way? He should be the first one to know that art hardly ever turns out how you want it to. He himself was a project; one borne of his inherited ambition and perfectionism that had failed miserably and needed to be isolated to prevent further inflammation and, hopefully, be salvaged. It was why he was here, at Darkwick, practicing performances rather than back in the heart of Tokyo, feeling the pressure of a crowd under blinding lights and several layers of makeup to alter his masculine appearance.

He sighs, stopping in his tracks right before the entrance to the hut, unintentionally shrinking into himself, shyly crossing his arms over his body. He was usually in perfect control of his reactions, emotions, expressions, and the like. Impulse was a word in his dictionary, but it was usually used to describe the actions of others rather than himself. Even when he gave himself to you, he had complete control over the situation—he had set it up, he had carefully planned his words, he had intentionally served you a certain flavor of tea, he had even presented himself a certain way to elicit his desired response from you—it was all under his control. But now, you were being unpredictable, an undesirable outcome. He felt like he was no longer in control, like he once was—you incited his deepest desires, beckoning them forward, when he'd wanted them to stay sated after learning all there was to gain was the temporary bliss of an orgasm. You also incited his worst emotions, somehow able to pierce through his placid exterior to the tumultuous rage that lay within. It wasn't part of the plan. He felt as though it was all quickly spiraling out of control.

"…Suba?" Lyca's hesitant voice brings him back to reality again, and he nods quickly, grimacing at the way his head spins from the sudden movement.

"Right, yes. Um…" He hesitates, carefully piecing the sentence together before speaking it. "I… I would like for this project to stay under control."

Lyca kicks at the ground, scuffing up the dirt path and ruining his sneakers. "Is it not stayin' under control?"

"Not at all," Subaru allows his posture to sag with these words, displaying the stress it's put him under. "I'm working with…" He recoils at the thought of saying your name, and his lips waver before forcing out "…a partner. I would like for it to follow a plan, but my partner…" His mind flickers back to you. Memories of your insatiable insolence plague him. He swallows before he can retch out of disgust. "My partner isn't going along with the plan." He frowns, turning his gaze to the ground. "I'm not sure how to convince them… to obey the plan." Their insolence irks me, lingers on his tongue, but remains unsaid. He's almost certain the words would come out rancorous and terse, which would shatter his current demure image.

Lyca tilts his head, looking away from Subaru for a few moments. He soon turns back to Subaru, oblivious to the inner turmoil he's about to cause. "Then, you can just take back control, right?"

A jolt passes through Subaru. Lyca doesn't notice.

"I mean, it'd be easy," Lyca continues, placing a hand to his chin, thinking it over. "You're captain, right?" Lyca nods to himself, seemingly agreeing with his own train of thought. "And a ghoul. The humans are all scared of us." Lyca hesitates, a conflicted look passing over his face, before waving off his concerns and shrugging heedlessly. "I don't think they'd argue if you showed them who's boss."

Lyca phrased it callously, but Subaru understands what he means. He'd never thought of doing that before. Taking control from you. Technically, he could do that. He was stronger, he held more authority, and he could naturally command you if he desired. He just had to pull the strings the right way. But it was possible. It was possible. A wave of hope and euphoria passes through him before being replaced by a second wave of reminders.

You were still intentionally avoiding him. How could he lure you to him again? He clicks his tongue in annoyance, giving a tight smile when Lyca glances at him, confused. Humans were annoyingly fickle. Much to his dismay, he was no exception.

He wasn't even certain he wanted to reignite what had previously been. What was the point of chasing you again? It would make him feel desperate, especially when you hadn't shown any desperation capable of justifying or matching his own. Chasing you would be a hapless endeavor, unrewarding and unsatisfactory. He'd already seen his reflection and the disgust it wrought from him. A repeat would be nothing but torture.

He steps inside the hut after Lyca, stooping low to fit through the small door. His mood had been utterly soured by his revelation, so much so that he hardly felt like keeping up his persona. Still, trained for perfection, he carefully lowers himself to one side of the table, kneeling politely. Lyca haphazardly tumbles to the floor, stretching out his legs to the side of the table.

"Lyca," Subaru whispers before he can stop himself, tensing his jaw to force the question out, "how would you go about chasing something you can't catch?"

Lyca turns to him, frowning. "What? What is that s'posed to mean?"

Subaru shakes his head, a conflicted smile on his face. "Humor me, please."

"Uh…" Lyca swings his head away, tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling. "I dunno…" He puzzles over the question, tilting his head to one side. "I'd just keep goin' after it."

Subaru's gaze clouds over, memories of your relentless search for him resurfacing in his mind. His gloved hands curl into fists in his lap, feeling a flash of anger. Of course, Lyca would continue chasing it, even if he couldn't quite reach it. You acted similarly, continuing to pester Subaru even after his repeated dodging and avoidance. Worse, you'd managed to catch him and drive him further towards what felt like his own undoing.

He didn't want to chase you. That wasn't the way this project was supposed to go. He preferred to trap or cage you, as he'd done before, but breaking into your dorm was no longer an option. That would reflect poorly on his predictability. He had to bait you, somehow.

Subaru preferred setting something up and waiting for someone to fall for it. Luring someone. He wanted to lead you on, straight into his trap again, and help you realize that this was supposed to go a different way. He was always meant to be in control.

Perhaps that itself was the answer. Reciprocating your actions. Ignoring your presence. You were too arrogant in your own abilities not to notice that if he tried. He could simply do what he did before—avoid you. You would come crawling back to him… and everything would fall back into place, right as it was before.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a thread snaps.

"Suba?" Lyca questions him, tilting his head close to the table. Subaru startles slightly, lifting his gaze. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Subaru answered hurriedly, waving Lyca off with a smile. "I'm fine," he repeats, a light mumble under his breath, clenching his jaw. He just had to make this work.

Subaru must be down on his luck.

Unfortunately, the plan he'd formed, heavily based in seeming uninterested, had failed him. He couldn't pretend to be uninterested now, not in front of other people. He had to maintain his facade.

Haku nudges him for the umpteenth time, the look on his face somewhere between concern and exasperation. Wordless communication passes through them for a moment before Subaru smiles sheepishly, hoping to alleviate Haku's concern. When Haku appears satisfied, he goes back to dressing himself in faux shyness, keeping his glass close to his face, watching the red liquid swirl.

One of the Hotarubi first years had attempted brewing anamolous wine as their first project, using tools from Mortkranken to perfect it. Subaru had received a bottle as a gift, along with pleas from the student to let him know how it tasted. Subaru, ever the upstanding house captain, agreed and thanked the student with grace. He'd initially planned not to have any and to pass it off to Haku instead, but when he finally found Haku, conveniently, he found you and Zenji, too. Haku wouldn't turn down a free drink, and you nodded enthusiastically, and now, Subaru couldn't take back the offer. So here you all were, and Subaru hoped the wine would swallow him instead of vice versa.

Zenji was deep into one of his melodious poems, strumming his biwa and reciting them in a deep, dramatic, booming voice. You were hanging on to his every word, halfway through your wine glass. Subaru doesn't think he's ever seen anyone so engrossed in one of Zenji's poems before, and wonders if the alcohol is playing a part in this. As his eyes trail back to his glass, however, he's quickly reminded that he has yet to take a single sip, and isn't sure if he wants to. Wine could be potent, and if he didn't play his cards right, he had more to risk if he ended up under the influence.

Just as he demurely puts his glass down, fixing his face into one of slight exasperation and about to cite a half-hearted lie so he could leave, you swing your arms wide open in shock at a twist in Zenji's poem, your glass accidentally colliding with his. It tips over, splashing its contents over Subaru's uniform, your glass shattering as it drops to the table. You turn to it in a panic, reaching for it, before hissing and pulling back, blood oozing from a cut in your palm. Haku immediately starts, setting his glass down and pulling your hand towards him. Subaru blinks a few times, gathering his bearings.

He's beginning to wonder if all the prior incidents were you using your clumsiness to your own advantage.

"Alright, princess," Haku voices, examining the cut on your hand, face pulled into a frown. Subaru can hardly hear him over Zenji's tutting. "That's enough for you."

You don't voice a reply, staring frustratedly down at the cut on your palm. Haku turns to Subaru, and he turns to him on autopilot, blinking confusedly. Haku raises a brow. "Are you alright?"

Subaru's not sure if he nods or continues staring, but whatever he does, Haku accepts it, nodding and turning back to you.

Ending up drenched in wine is really not how he wanted to spend today, but alas, fate has other plans. He sighs, rising to his feet, surveying the damage. You hurriedly stand to your feet, pulling your hand from Haku in the process. "I'm sorry!" Subaru stares, almost surprised at the genuineness of your apology. Your honesty felt foreign to him.

Before long, he shakes his head, smiling timidly. "It's alright." He's not sure how genuine his forgiveness is, but he doesn't bother considering it further. His eyes cast down to your palm instead. "Here, follow me," he smiles kindly, the picture of innocent intentions. "I'll walk you to Professor Nicolas." Maybe he could spend the entire walk there ignoring you. How cathartic that would be.

Haku shakes his head. "You don't need to do that." He gestures vaguely at Subaru, red wine staining the white of his collar. "I can take her. Shouldn't you get cleaned up?"

"No, it's fine." Subaru cuts Haku off, perhaps a little too quickly, eager to get this over with. "I won't be long, and I can wash the clothes when I get back." He looks up at them, putting on his best performance of selflessness. "I'm the one who brought the wine in the first place, so it's my responsibility." Hint of shyness in his voice, slight twinge of embarrassment, faint blush dusting his cheeks. It was perfect. He could applaud himself for how well he upheld his facade.

He turns to you again, a pitying smile on his face. "Shall we?" He doesn't wait for an answer, striding out of the room, confident you would follow him.

He's a decent number of steps away when he hears you catching up; your pace quickening to match his. He doesn't so much as turn back to acknowledge your presence, continuing on his way down the halls of Hotarubi. He feels tension building, and your gaze boring into him, but he ignores you easily, determined to lure you just as he'd done before, albeit unintentionally. But he should have been prepared, because you haven't even exited the main building before you tap him on the shoulder, singsong voice accompanying the fleeting touch.

"Subaru," you speak cloyingly, walking on his right side. "You can't ignore me forever."

He almost scoffs, but prevents himself from reacting, turning down a corner instead. He was wondering when your manipulative personality would rear its ugly head again, and here it was—ready to drag him right back into depravity.

He continues to ignore you, pretending not to feel your tapping or hear your voice. He could laugh at how easily it irks you, presenting in how your tapping becomes more insistent.

"Come on, Subaru," you tease him. He already knows you want a reaction out of him, and he refuses to give it. "At least be nice to your guest."

He doesn't see any reason to perform for you any longer, so why bother with that? As far as he was concerned, you didn't deserve an ounce of kindness from him. He ignores you still, nodding politely as a Hotarubi student passes to rub it in.

He thinks he's finally managed to subdue you when he doesn't hear anything from you for several moments, rejoicing in the silence as it finally settles in that he won't cave to your desires any longer. At least, he does until you appear in front of him, having quickened your pace to stand in front of him and block his way.

"Subaru," you aren't yelling, but he can hear the insistence in your voice. "You look up at him, smile betraying your intentions. "You can't ignore me forever."

Before he can step around you, you step out of his way, not to continue down the hall, but to slip into a narrow closet in Hotarubi's halls, demonstrating you wouldn't cooperate unless he followed you. He grinds his teeth in fury, having half a mind to continue down the hall without you and make his way to his room instead. But he knew you would follow him once you figured out his destination, and he didn't feel like leading you in circles around Hotarubi.

He turns to look at you, your teasing gaze seeming to gloat in how you know you've got him. He relents, anger twisting his expression as he steps towards you, disappearing into the closet with you as you pull him by his shoulder.

He shrugs your hand off of him once you're in the closet, immediately replacing the distance between you, blinking and adjusting his eyes to the low light. "I'm supposed to be taking you to Professor Nicolas." Even he knows his words are empty. They don't hold the conviction of a reminder. Rather, they thinly veil his growing anticipation, forcing his irritation to take center stage. He always felt conflicted when it came to you, but at some point, he'd stopped fighting it. He's not sure why.

"It's only a scratch," you say, a smile full of unsavory intentions spreading across your face. "I'd be more worried about the wine soaking your clothes."

"Then, why have you pulled me in here?" Subaru cuts to the chase, already tired of dancing around the topic. He turns back around to face you, honest confusion and exasperation coloring his expression. He'd stopped hiding his true feelings around you, too. It made no sense to even try when you could read him at a glance.

"Don't play coy."

"Don't dodge the question." Subaru flicks his fingers in a show of waving you off, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Please," he adds as an afterthought. He wasn't sure whether or not he was genuinely pleading with you for clarity, and he didn't really care. He frowns, the furrow between his brows deepening when you only smile in response. He presses his lips into a thin line, shifting his gaze away from you towards the floor. He could leave, right now, if he wanted to. But he knows that you know that he knows he doesn't want to, so why bother trying?

He levels his gaze with you again, recoiling internally at the wave of sickeningly sweet stench of flowers that hits his nose. His teeth dig into his bottom lip. He's not sure when, but something about you had become repulsive to him. As much as he felt like he craved your fingers over him again, something about imagining that brought bile to his mouth as much as it set his skin on fire. Your very presence infuriated him—but he knew to keep a cool head by now. Blowing up on you would set him back at square one. It didn't matter whether or not he was repulsed by you. He was realizing he couldn't get by anymore without some depraved encounter with you, if only to temporarily bring some quiet to his yearning mind, keeping it from replaying the events like a broken record.

It'd been too long. Far, far too long. And you were far too willing to indulge him now, but he wasn't going to question it.

You step towards him, and he steps back in tandem, keeping the gap until his back pressed against the wall of the closet, and he could go no further. He doesn't shrink back, simply watching you make your way towards him. He knew what you wanted. An insatiable appetite swims in your lascivious gaze, and he was certain that, despite his disgust, he mirrored your desires.

'Disgusting,' he thinks. 'You're disgusting.' He bites back the urge to say it, well aware of his own hypocrisy. If you were disgusting, then he was too, for craving you.

Your fingers press into his sternum, following a slow path up his chest, to his neck. "It's soaked," you whisper, hooded eyes landing on his throat. He swallows, a shiver running down his spine as your gaze watches the movement. You begin to press harder when you reach his collar.

He'd love to remind you that his being soaked in wine was your fault, but the words die on his lips when you hook your fingers underneath his tie, pressing your knuckles into his throat and pulling him towards you. He follows without much qualm, bending forward until your faces are a mere hair apart.

He swallows again, trying to force down the bile that threatens to ruin his anticipation. God, he felt sick, with no one else to blame for it but himself. He can feel your breath fanning across his lips. Every time he inhales, he feels your chest just slightly press into his. Your thigh was gently pushing his legs apart, guiding itself to his waiting arousal. It simultaneously tightens the knot in his abdomen and stokes his nausea. He wanted you so much that it made him sick.

Your eyes were still trained low on his neck, and he could feel you loosening his tie, prying at the buttons underneath. Common sense regarding time and place dimly strikes him, but he doesn't react to it. Right now, it didn't matter. He was too sick with desperate arousal to care.

"Aw," you hum, moving your face away from his and closer to his chest instead, studying the areas where the wine had soaked through to his skin. "It's all sticky…" You murmur. He sighs at the feeling of your breath on his exposed chest, closing his eyes, preparing to submit to whatever sensations you would put him through. It'd been far too long.

"It'd be a shame…" You slowly draw closer. Subaru feels his chest grow warm as he waits. "…If it all went to waste." You hum, feigning deliberation over what to do. He bites his tongue, suppressing the urge to plead with you to hurry up. His teeth dig into his lower lip, and his thighs clamp over yours, still shoved between his legs. You laugh, and the sound is as beautiful as it makes his ire spark. "What do you think?"

He's barely managed to hum out a shaky "Yes," before your lips are on his chest, tongue dragging at the sticky red residue. He moans, purely out of bliss, collapsing onto the wall behind him. Your hands snake around his waist and he curves into the touch, squeezing at your shoulders as you lap up the wine on his shoulder.

Here you were again, pressed flush against him, using lips and tongue to tease moans out of him all over again.

You're disgusting. He's disgusting. His grip on your shoulders tightens, desperate to push you away and regain some semblance of control or sanity. Your tongue on his neck alone shouldn't weaken his resolve this strongly, but he can't find it in himself to push hard enough.

Something between a confused moan and an angered growl sounds from his throat when you suddenly push away, wiping your lips, smirking at him mockingly. "But that's not what you want, right?" You hum, pulling yourself further away and stepping back. His bleary gaze finds yours, still reeling from the residual pleasure and shift in tone. "You don't want me."

Rage simmers within his abdomen, threatening to burst forth. Here you were again, acting as though this wasn't your fault. This was the opposite of what he had planned. He was to be the one trapping you, and yet here he was, back against the wall, dress shirt half-open, neckline drenched in wine, staring at you with nothing but antipathy.

You only giggle at his obvious contempt and shrug half-heartedly, rolling your eyes, continuing your backwards prance. "I guess you just don't fit."

'Liar,' burns on his tongue, but all that comes out is an exhale. There had to be a way to turn the tide in his favor; he was certain there was. He just had to—

'Then, you can just take back control, right?' Lyca's words echo in his brain, reminding him of their earlier discussion. He could take back control. A sinking feeling settles within him. He swallows thickly, noting the tightness of his throat at the thought. This had not gone the way he had wanted. None of it had. Originally, he'd wanted to trap you with his own feigned disinterest, making you feel just as conflicted and as misguided as he had, completely without direction. However, here he was, still conflicted and misguided, likely right where you wanted him. How abhorrent. Everything was falling apart, nothing was going according to plan—and it was your fault. It was all your fault.

He finds himself rapidly spiraling, digging up reasons to pin the blame on you. You'd been the one to touch him first, then proceeded to continue touching him, purposely, revealing more and more of yourself to him… Luring him. Bile begins to rise in his throat, a harsh burning threatening to tear him from the inside out. He should have realized it sooner, but no, he was too busy falling for it—the delicious depravity of it all.

A short, crazed laugh sounds from him before he can stop it, freedom and hopelessness washing over him all at once. "Of course…" He buries his face in his hands, feeling close to tears. Finally, it all made sense. Now, he just had to rectify it. "I've been such a fool…"

"Goodnight, Subaru." The finality of your voice startles him, and he lifts his head to gaze at you. Your visage was hazy, blurred by tears threatening to spill forth. "Sorry it didn't—"

In a flash, he's already across the room, standing before you, iron grip on your wrist, moments away from opening the door. When he looks at you, he's not sure what he's feeling, but he knows, for once, the smile on his face is far deeper than genuine. "No," he says, pulling your wrist away from the door, tightening his grip with every passing second. The fear in your gaze is truly something to savor. He shakily inhales, feeling himself begin to shiver with glee. "You don't get to do that to me anymore, MC."

He registers the panic in your expression, and it only spurs him on further. He lifts his hand to your chin, gently redirecting your gaze to his, and harshly gripping your chin so it stays in place. Finally. He had you trapped, and he knew you knew it. His grin widens, a deceptively soft, kind smile spreading across his face. "I'm sorry," he starts, beholding you with a unique softness, "and I really do mean that. But," his expression darkens, his smile shrinking. "I can't let you get away this time."

He carefully releases your jaw from his grip, noting the bruises already forming from his strength. He would control his strength, but where's the merit in that? He still wasn't done.

"Lie down," he orders, like it was the easiest thing in the world. He lets go of your wrist, bruises on your wrist forming in the shape of his fingerprints. You stand stock still, frozen like a deer in headlights. He notes your disobedience, but idly figures he should have expected this. He turns to face you fully, his face devoid of any kindness or leeway. "Lie down."

You shift your position, and Subaru sees it coming from a mile away. He grabs your hand before it can connect with his face, squeezing until you groan in pain. He sighs and shakes his head, voice full of false pity. "I should've known you would insist on making this harder than it needs to be." Your look of defiance is enough to break his facade right back into his haunting smile. "Very well."

He shoves you to the ground, and you don't have the time to think of moving away before he's kneeling over you, caging you in. He stares down at you impassively, as though you were something uninteresting, but he's sure you can read him like a book. Finally, he had you. He takes a moment to savor it, feeling his heartbeat pick up in his ears as he stares down at you. This was nothing short of depraved, violent, and perverse, but he wasn't going to stop. The idea of this made his skin crawl as much as it turned him on. Finally. No more excuses. No more running away. No more flipping the script. He would make sure this was inevitable and permanent.

His thoughts are rudely interrupted by a blow to his stomach, causing him to recoil. He tumbles backwards, groaning in pain, while you hastily shuffle away from him, limbs uncoordinated from shock. He spits and curses under his breath, thankful for his quick recovery. He watches you struggle for a moment, sighing to himself disappointedly. He should have known you wouldn't make this easy, and you should have known that you weren't going to be fast enough. He grabs your legs, pulling you back to him almost effortlessly. You don't cry out of shock, but you look up at him, and oh, it is the sweetest expression he's seen on your face in some time.

Here you are before him, completely demoralized. The look you're giving him is one he can only describe as pure defeat. From your pursed lips, he knows you're finally accepting it, but the look in your eyes is captivating—still holding some semblance of defiance. He smiles kindly, noting your stillness. He knows better, however, than to assume you've given up. He won't fall for that again.

He breathes shakily, feeling heat pool in his lower abdomen as he spreads your legs apart, reveling in the minimal resistance. As much as he would like to savor this moment, pinning you down is the priority. He pulls your thighs apart as far as they can go, noting the growing discomfort on your face with glee, before kneeling on your thighs, pressing all of his weight forward, and pinning you to the ground. Leaning over you, he takes your wrists and holds them above your head, pinning them firmly in place.

He swallows thickly, feeling heat crawl down his groin and up his neck. He surveys your body, eyes flitting from one spot to another—your tense expression, fiery eyes gleaming with defiance, your wrinkled blazer, dress shirt pulled askew underneath, your skirt—his teeth dig into his lower lip with anticipation. His eyes trail over your lifted skirt and panties, his tongue flicking over his lips in excitement. He slowly trails his free hand over the outline of your panties, twisted smile forming on his face.

He doesn't comment on how wet you already are, certain you feel shamed enough. He does, however, smile in satisfaction at how you squirm, feeling his fingers trace familiar patterns over the thin cloth barrier. He soon hooks his finger under the gusset, pulling it to the side, revealing your twitching core. A throaty exhale sounds from him, his gloved fingers prodding at you, watching you for your reaction. He remembers the exact pattern to rub your clit in, and presses his thumb into it, going in soft, gentle strokes. His face breaks into an eager smile as you arch your back, several jolts passing through you. Your teeth dig into your lip, desperate to keep quiet, but Subaru doesn't care, too caught up in enjoying the way your anger and defeat melt into pleasure. Your arousal seeps through his gloves, the warm liquid staining his fingers. He shivers, finally pulling back, observing his stained glove.

He thinks he's kept himself waiting long enough. He pulls the glove from his hand with his teeth, still holding down your wrists. He tosses his glove to the side, making direct eye contact with you as his hand snakes down to his belt buckle. "You could scream," he states simply, gazing at you, flushed cheeks the only thing betraying his neutral expression. "Why don't you?"

The clink and slide of his belt coming undone are the only sounds in the closet before you finally speak up, hints of trepidation betraying your discomfort. "Would you even let me if I tried?"

Subaru's face breaks into a smile in response, his eyes so deceptively kind. He hums contentedly, undoing his zipper and pulling down his boxers, sighing in pleasure as his length is freed, poking long and tall from his pants. "No," he answers, directing himself to your folds, sighing sweetly again as the tip makes contact with you, flinching at the onslaught of visions he was sure to experience. "I wouldn't have."

He sinks into you, and all at once, the visions come pouring in. He struggles, trying not to collapse on you, keeping his eyes shut tight as he sinks further in. A moan slips out of him once he bottoms out, laying himself into your chest and pressing his lips to your ear. He repositions his knees, the bone digging into your thighs as he starts thrusting, pistoning his hips back and forth at a nearly punishing pace, his free hand stroking your clit. You don't cry out, instead letting out a strangled gasp, to which he smiles, continuing his pace. You refuse to make much noise at all, keeping your moans deep in your throat, staying as silent as possible.

He sees it all, the visions refusing to fade. The dejection you'd felt after your encounter at the studio, the contempt you felt for him after, and the pleasure you'd felt in knowing you were driving him into a wall, each and every time. Unable to keep himself from making some noise, he muffles his moans just behind your jaw, mouthing lightly at the sensitive skin there. He can feel his strength begin to slip as a result of the visions, his thrusts becoming stuttered and erratic.

He tilts his head until his lips are by your ear again, swallowing his moans and whispering in your ear instead. "This could have been avoided." He hears your teeth grind in annoyance, bringing a soft smile to his face. He exhales on your ear, feeling you shiver in response. "All you had to do," he starts, lifting his free hand from your clit and gripping your jaw again, pushing his thumb past your lips and pressing down on your tongue, "was refrain from interfering."

'And yet, here you are,' Subaru thinks, lifting his head to catch your gaze, anger and the final bits of defiance still flaring through, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes. Your mouth was still open, tongue flat under Subaru's thumb, coated in remnants of your essence and your saliva. Small sounds escaped you with each driven thrust, your body jerking in unwanted pleasure. Here you both were. Your interference was inevitable; he should have known.

'And that is what makes this inevitable,' he thinks to himself, burying his face back into the crook of your neck, his hand releasing your jaw. He presses his lips into your neck, feeling his peak begin to approach. His thrusts grow more erratic, just as harsh but growing less coordinated. His free hand slides down to your clit again, thumbing it in gentle strokes, bringing you to the edge just as he was.

"I'm sorry," he whispers in your ear, voice shaking with arousal. He's breathing heavily, his words punctured by moans and uncontrollable whimpers. "But you've left me no choice. This had to be done." He speeds up his thrusting, muffling his moans into the crook of your neck as he nears his peak. He groans at the feeling of your twitching walls reaching a similar peak, keeping the steady pace of his thumb stroking your clit.

He pumps into you a few more times before he cums, his hips stuttering as his orgasm washes over him. His cum gushes into you, warm and sedating, his cock twitching as it forces the last drops out. His moans are muffled in your skin, his eyelashes fluttering against your ear. He feels you reach your peak soon after, clit trembling under his fingers as your walls clench around his length, sending one last spark of pleasure through him. He slows his thumb until his movements ease to a halt, letting himself catch his breath. His grip on your wrists was already slipping, and his knees were beginning to wobble, unable to hold himself up anymore.

Before any more of his strength can leave him, he hurriedly lifts himself off of you, releasing his grip on your wrists and slowly pulling himself out, collapsing backwards into a seated position.

The repeated visions finally cease, and his weakened state catches up with him. He stays seated, panting, his hands flat on the ground behind him in an effort to keep himself upright. He suddenly becomes aware of the uncomfortable feeling of sweat trapped under his collar, on his forehead, and between his shirt and blazer. His length, still twitching from aftershock, was sticky with his release and yours mixed together. His entire body was unusually warm, and he was sure his face and chest were visibly colored a deep red, even in the dim light of the closet. And yet, despite all these uncomfortable sensations, a wave of satisfaction passes through him, especially when he looks over to witness your twitching form, still leaking his release.

Finally, it was over. He closes his eyes, savoring his earned victory. He hardly stirs until he hears movement from you, finally lifting yourself up.

From the way you barely move your legs, he can tell they're weak from the aftermath. You slump over, shakily holding yourself up on your arms, eyes trained on the floor. A pang of guilt spreads through Subaru's stomach as he looks at you pityingly. Despite his guilt, he says nothing, turning away from you, instead focusing on the weakness in his limbs. Unable to hold himself up much longer, he leans forward, his arms resting in his lap instead.

Eventually, he'd have to leave the closet, but he couldn't see himself doing that while he was still so weak. A strong orgasm paired with multiple visions had completely drained him. Still, once his strength returns, he supposes he'll be alright.

Out of permeating guilt, he turns to look at you again, only to find you right next to him, staring at him. He startles before recognizing the anger flashing in your gaze. He exhales, the bitter side of the victory making itself known. Yet, as far as Subaru was concerned, he had nothing to say to you. He'd said everything he needed to you when he explained this was inevitable, so if you were waiting on an apology, you would be waiting a long time.

But, he supposes it was kinder to provide you with some semblance of closure. He turns to you, ready to don his best pitying smile, before you suddenly push him to the ground, keeping your hands on his shoulders.

He blinks up at you, dazed, unease creeping into his stomach. "MC…" He starts, hoping this isn't what he assumes it will be. He's never met anyone as completely unsatiable as you are. He puts on his best pathetically pleading voice, hoping you'll listen to reason. "I'm too weak from the visions. I couldn't—"

"Shut up!" You interrupt him, clapping a hand over his mouth. Subaru twitches, feeling himself become overwhelmed with your residual thoughts from the encounter. You climb on top of him, and for a moment, Subaru recognizes the wild look in your eyes as the one he'd had prior. "You—" You lean over him, vitriol hanging on to every syllable, "You are going to lie here and take it." Subaru feels the unease creeping into his stomach twist itself into fear. "Just like I did." He tries to reach for your hand and force it off of him, but he's unsuccessful, his grip too weak to do anything, his brain swimming as he witnesses what he did to you from your point of view.

The fear overwhelms him immediately, anger following suit. Helplessness, betrayal, and panic all seep into him, mirroring your emotions. Blinded by the visions, he watches himself from your point of view as he took you, his face barely visible in the low light, shrouded in darkness, his smiles more haunting than kind. He feels your rage boiling throughout the entirety of the encounter, your initial fear only fueling it. His vision swims, images of you and of your perception of him melding. He blinks repeatedly, swallowing thickly as the reality of the situation from your perspective dawns on him.

He gasps, and he's back, watching you mount him. His arms lay above his head, pinned down by you. He panics, lifting his knees to his chest to try and protect himself, but he's too late. He can hardly fight against you in this state, his mind still a jumbled mess between his own emotions, yours, his memories of the encounter, and your memories of it bleeding into each other.

He pants, his panic and fear rising in his abdomen. "Get off!" He stammers, trying futilely to pull his arms from your grasp or buck you off of him with his hips. Previously overwhelmed by visions, his arms shake when he tries to pull his wrists from your grasp, and his hips stutter and jerk under you. His fear escalates upon realizing he can't physically escape you. "W-Wait, MC—!" Panic and desperation color his tone, rapidly rising in volume. His panting turns into heaving as he finds himself squirming and shifting as much as he can to fight against the events.

He's not even sure his words are reaching you. The look on your face mirrors his prior, too far gone to interpret his pleas or cries for it to stop. You keep holding him down, reaching for his length, still sensitive and twitching with aftershock. He tries to twist himself out of your grasp, but he can't move—your full body weight seated just under his groin.

"Ugh!" He tries to stifle his moans, pain and pleasure coursing through him as you line him up with your fluttering heat. Despite himself, he watches with bated breath as you descend onto him, your heat engulfing him in mere moments. He whines, still feeling the intoxicating post-orgasmic bliss despite the pain from overstimulation and the fear from the act. "P-Please…" He begs, biting his tongue and groaning when you slowly lift your hips, setting a pace. "Mmngh, please don't do this…" His heels dig into the floor, desperate for at least some facade of stability among the instability in his mind. He lets out a low moan as you slide yourself back down, speeding up. "Ah! Oh, fuck, please—"

His pleading is brought to an immediate halt when you slap your hand over his mouth, muffling his words. Your nails dig into his cheek, forming crescent-shaped bruises in his skin. You whisper harshly to him in a low voice, not even acknowledging his begging. "Keep quiet! It's like you want to get caught."

Subaru whimpers, the horror of it all finally settling in. There was truly nothing he could do. Just as his actions against you were inevitable, so too was this. A sickening pit forms in his stomach, realizing all he can do is watch.

Thankfully, it doesn't seem you'll last long, not with how each bounce has your thighs shaking with effort. Not that Subaru would last long either, his sensitive cock twitching as your walls slide back and forth over his length all over again. His cries from overstimulation remain muffled by your hand, and he begins to get lightheaded from the intensive strain on his body and reduced oxygen getting to his brain. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ride it out, waiting until this violating ordeal is finished.

This was torture. His hands curl into softened fists, his body tensing as he feels himself drawing close for the second time, under much less favorable conditions. His eyes begin to burn, tears pricking at the edges, and a lump forms in his throat. He wishes his body wasn't responding the way it was; cock twitching and nipples pebbling and body flushing and sweating with heat and arousal. He wishes he hadn't fallen for your bait, expertly designed to string him along until he fell from grace. He wishes he weren't here, under you, participating in a losing battle, being forced to take it. He wishes he hadn't lost.

Shame ends up serving as the greatest reminder of why he shouldn't have fallen, coursing through him as he rapidly approaches his peak. His muffled whimpers and groans grow louder, and so do your quiet gasps and throaty exhales. He squeezes his thighs together, hands trembling, his breathing quickening and worsening his dizziness. When you finally reach yours, slamming your hips down on his and squeezing your walls against him, he cums, a loud moan sounding from his throat. He shivers, feeling himself pump and twitch inside you, his peak melting his brain a second time.

You ride out your orgasm, rolling your hips back and forth until you're satisfied, settling into stillness. The only sounds heard for a moment are your heavy breathing until you release Subaru's wrists and face. He immediately takes a deep inhale, coughing at the sudden influx of oxygen. He turns away the best he can with you still on top of him, hiding his face with his hands as his coughing slowly devolves into sobbing. It's only a few sobs, but it's mortifying nonetheless, feeling shameful as he keeps himself turned away, refusing to look at you.

He groans when you slide off of him, though he doesn't turn to look, instead turning his hips over to hide himself from you fully. He hurriedly wipes his eyes, peering at your stumbling form from the floor. You were standing shakily over him, most of your weight resting on the narrow closet wall.

A moment passes between you as he gazes at you, saying nothing. There is neither fondness nor disgust in your gaze, rather something he can't name, though he's sure he looks much the same. Neither understanding nor disagreement passes between you. It would be wrong to call it a compromise. Eventually, Subaru looks away.

There's a shorter stretch of silence until he finally hears slow footsteps, and watches you walk towards the closet door out of his peripheral. You spare him one final glance, to which he twitches, before opening the door. He notices the light catch on a thin trail of white sliding down your inner thigh before you step out, the door closing behind you.

He turns on his back, staring at the ceiling again. He would have to get up eventually.

well. there's that. god i have a headache everyone enjoy 4r im. on the brink of death.

the flowers i listed 4 subaru had a specific purpose btw: red anemones: forsaken love, expected love, anticipation; blue hydrangeas: regret, rejection; violet petunias: resentment, residual anger.

ANYWAYS please enjoy this i put my blood and tears in2 it. no sweat but i was certainly sweating while queuing.

anyways. sources for help with dealing with sa or violence:

Rainn

Wanna talk about it?

songs i listened 2 while writing this:

tongue - girlfriend of the year (you make me feel like im always in my mind, always in my mind, mind...)

colors - halsey (everything is blue and subaru is out of his mind.)

nervous - the neighbourhood (nervous? why? we knew we would end up here anyway.)

mind brand - maretu (in a way, haven't you branded each other's minds?)

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow @dailyvahine @diluxama @madamedesalaunier @gulaaren-123 @otaku-explosion @maruayase @giigiselleee @genevathekitty @ox-ren-xo @justaclusterofnothing

i double checked the taglist but i could be wrong due to recent spring cleaning. let me know if i forgot you!!!!

want 2 join or be removed from the tkdb taglist? let me know!

Cup Size = Length

Small = under 4.5 inches / 11.5 cm

Medium = 4.5 to 5.5 inches / 11.5 to 14 cm

Large = 5.5 to 6.5 inches / 14 to 16.5 cm

Extra Large = 6.5 to 8 inches / 16.5 to 20 cm (or more)

Though I think if it gets any bigger, it is not going to be a sex scene but a crime scene OTL

The Milk Choice = Girth/Thickness

Skim milk (non-fat): lean/slender

2% milk: standard girth

Whole milk: thick/heavy girth

Half and half (breve): very thick/chonky!!!!!

Heavy cream: Ohhhhh, monster!!! His pants need a third leg!!!!

Oat milk: thick base, slimmer top

Almond milk: slender shaft, but wider top

Customization

With foam = veiny

No foam = smooth

Flavor Pump

Caramel = upward curve

Mocha = downward curve

Vanilla = straight

Now let us begin!!! This is going to be long so I think I will divide it. Like, if y'all like it, then I will continue to make part 2. If not, then I'd just let this be it.

And BEFORE ANYONE JUMPS ME, I'm not gonna give them like monster manhwa BL seme type shit above 20 cm and all, okay? 😭 So don't say they are small or anything. I have no idea about the male body. Take this with a grain of salt!!!!!!

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫!

ft: Frostheim, Vagastrom, Jabberwock, Sinostra

✼ 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦 ✼

Jin - Medium, 2% almond milk, no foam, vanilla pump

No veins, completely smooth and perfectly straight. His shaft is on the leaner side, but it flares out significantly at the head. His thickness is pretty average overall.

He has average length, but because the shaft is so slender, it creates a visual illusion that makes him look way longer than he actually is. He isn’t going to stretch you wide, but that flared head is a total menace. 

The second he slides all the way in, that wide tip hooks hard inside, bottoming out and rubbing aggressively against the deepest, wettest corners of your walls with every single shove. 

One more note: his cock is noticeably darker than the rest of his skin, which looks insanely hot when it's buried between your thighs.

Tohma - Large, 2% oat milk, no foam, caramel drizzle

A solid size, curved upward, and beautifully proportioned, neither too thick nor too thin. He keeps himself completely hairless and smooth, with no visible veins.

He is an absolute sadist who loves edging you. That natural upward bend is perfectly angled to hammer right against your g-spot with zero effort, tearing loud, messy gasps out of you every time he drives forward. 

He is obsessed with watching your face while you suck him off. He completely loses his mind when he forces his way down your throat, watching his own thick shaft stretch your lips wide and pulse against your neck as you take him as deep as you can choke out.

Kaito Fuji - Medium, skim milk, with foam, vanilla pump

Pretty average in both length and thickness, but he gets inside his own head about being inexperienced. He’s not overly thick, but he is surprisingly veiny when hard. Straight as an arrow with no curve.

He doesn’t have much body hair, which feeds into his insecurity about not looking masculine enough. But what he lacks in confidence, he makes up for with friction. Those thick, rigid veins wrap tightly around his shaft, gripping your walls and creating an intense, scratching heat every time he thrusts. 

If you wrap your fingers around his base and praise how hard he feels, his face turns dark red, and he’ll violently pin your hands down to blur out his embarrassment.

Lucas - Medium, whole milk, with foam, caramel drizzle

Looks small and innocent when he's soft, but the second he gets a boner... 👀👀

He isn't a giant in terms of length, but he is thick as hell, heavily veiny, and hooks upward slightly. He grooms the hair down there every once in a while.

He gets incredibly flustered and shy during penetration because he doesn't know what he's doing, but after two or three rounds, he gets completely corrupted. 

He is a fast learner. Once he figures out the rhythm, he will use his thick meat and his wet tongue, stretching you open and eating you out until you're dripping wet and begging him to just put it back inside.

✶ 𝐕𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐦 ✶

Alan - Extra large, heavy cream, with foam, caramel drizzle

Honestly, this guy is packing an actual weapon in his pants. 

Like, officer, please arrest this guy, he has a weapon in his pants!! 

He likely would take that seriously and be a bit confused when you tease him like that.

“I'm not carrying any weapon, though.”

He has zero clue about any of the filthy jokes you, Leo, and Sho whisper about behind his back. If you actually sit down and explain what you mean, he turns bright red and can't even look you in the eye. 

He’s incredibly self-conscious about his size and terrified of hurting you. He feels like a piece of shit every time you try to give him head because he can see you literally gagging and struggling just to take half of him. 

When it's time to fuck, he leads you into cowgirl so you can control the depth, holding your hips in a death grip so his massive, curved length doesn't accidentally split you in half. 

Leo - Small, 2% milk, with foam, caramel drizzle

Small. A total micro-cock, bro is forced to rely entirely on his god-tier technique. (im jk kind of)

He might be lacking in size, but his dick is still rigid, veiny, and hooks up slightly. The thing is, Leo knows exactly how useless it is to try and jackhammer you, so he doesn't even bother.

He is famous for what his mouth and fingers can do. He will ruthlessly finger you while eating you out at the same time, turning you into a twitching, sobbing mess. 

He will literally drown his own mattress in your squirt, overstimulating your clit until you are screaming and crying for him to stop. Only when you're completely broken will he slide his hard-on inside, using friction on your swollen entrance while laughing at how ruined you are.

Sho - Large, half and half, with foam, vanilla pump

He's long, which makes sense given how lanky and tall his body is. He’s significantly veinier than Leo and has a thick, straight shaft.

😈😈😈 Prepare to have your eyes roll back into your skull. Sho is multitalented in everything, and bed is no exception.

He plays the role of the flirty, playful kouhai at first, teasing you until you're desperate. But once he gets you under him, he turns into a mean, dominant bastard. 

He loves to slowly sink his thick, veiny length into you while whispering the filthiest, most degrading shit in your ear. He deliberately refuses to go all the way in, bottoming out just short of your depth because he knows his size would tear you apart, using that restraint to torture you instead.

𖥧 𝐉𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐜𝐤 𖥧

Haru - Large, half and half, with foam, caramel drizzle

Way longer and thicker than anyone would ever expect. He is heavily veiny and hooks sharply upward.

Everyone looks at his clean, fit, athletic build and assumes he’s probably modest down there. 

Wrong!

The man is carrying an absolute monster between his legs. 

The first time he drops his pants, you literally have to sit down and take a breath just to process what you're looking at. His dick does not match his polite face at all. 

Honestly, carrying that massive weight around all day while managing his tasks explains why he has so much aggressive, pent-up frustration when he finally gets you behind closed doors. He will pin your legs to your chest and hammer that thick, veiny curve into you until you're completely spent.

Towa - Large, skim milk, with foam, mocha pump

Long, slender, and slightly lanky, matching his body type. He has very subtle, faint veins and a distinct downward curve.

In total contrast to his adorable face, he becomes incredibly whiny, clingy and bratty when he's hard.

He will tease you and whine until you are completely soaked, complaining about how tight you are while he slowly, carefully melts his way inside. 

He is totally obsessed with watching his long, slender shape push against the skin of your stomach from the inside out, making him look so incredibly pretty. 

Because his head is noticeably wider than his shaft, he has to take his time, slowly nudging and wiggling his way through your tight opening while panting open-mouthed against your skin, begging you to loosen up and swallow every single inch. 

Ren - Large, heavy cream, with foam, vanilla pump

Huge. Like, it makes no sense how he hides that giant meat in his everyday clothes. 

He's incredibly long and lanky, just like his arms and legs. If he gets a random boner, it is completely impossible to hide. 

He's very thick and packed veins, but he's too inexperienced to even realize what an anomaly he is. Completely straight, and he shaves down there occasionally.

When he's soft, it’s a soft cotton-candy pink, but the moment you touch him or make him blush, the head turns a violent, throbbing red. He is hyper-sensitive and overstimulated easily. 

After working outside so much, his body got a bit tan, so he thinks his pale, pinkish cock looks weird against his skin. Don't let the pretty color fool you though, that massive pipe will absolutely rearrange your organs the second he loses control.

♧ 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚 ♧

Taiga - Large, half and half, with foam, caramel drizzle

Large, thick, and covered in pulsing veins that look like they're about to pop right in your face. It curves upward when he's fully erect. He has insane stamina and loves to edge you for hours.

He doesn't groom at all, preferring to keep everything wild and natural down there, no matter how much Romeo nags him to clean it up. 

He isn't the type to get a random boner easily, so you actually have to work for it.

“Try harder, kitty”

But once he's hard, he is a feral animal. That thick, veiny upward hook smashes into your sweet spot with brutal momentum. He loves to pull almost all the way out, letting those rough veins scrape against your opening, before slamming back in with a deep, satisfied growl.

Romeo - Medium, skim milk, no foam, mocha pump

Completely average length but incredibly slender. Zero veins, completely smooth, and flawlessly groomed. He has a distinct downward curve when hard.

His skin down there is pale af, turning a dark, pretty flush whenever you fluster him. He looks incredibly cutesy and pristine, matching his face perfectly. But don't let the pretty look fool you, he is a sadist. 

That downward curve hooks perfectly when you're riding him, allowing him to lay back completely still while you stretch yourself over his shaft. He will watch your eyes roll back with a smug smirk, using his smooth texture to slide deeply into your throat or your wetness without warning just to hear you gag/scream.

Ritsu - Large, half and half, with foam, vanilla pump

Massive and incredibly thick. It’s an absolute horse. He genuinely struggles to pack it away in the morning, and it constantly annoys him, so he sets it to the left just to walk comfortably.

He stays completely hairless but his shaft is covered in thick veins. It's a straight but the sheer volume of it will shock you the first time you see it. It makes absolutely no sense compared to his innocent baby face.

He has zero experience so he's clumsy, but if you start talking dirty to him while jerking him off, commenting on how his huge, veiny cock looks like a dirty secret compared to his clean image, he completely snaps. 

His professional persona shatters, and he will frantically ram that thick weight into you, coming violently inside you within seconds before hiding his burning face in your neck out of pure shame.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫!