Scara writing blog

Despite living such a long life Kuni isn't exactly experienced in intimacy.

He simply had no interest in it, even thought of it as stupid considering it involves a certain vulnerability and trust he wasn't ready to show anyone.

Until you came along and slowly unraveled him, worming yourself into his feelings with no trouble whatsoever.

No matter how much he tries he can't deny himself these tiny pleasures.

A kiss here and there, a hug, holding hands, indulging in the small acts he's denied himself, no one else gets the privilege of seeing him this soft.

His affection is clumsy, his knowledge on any sort of lovey dovey couple basics is close to zero.

It takes a few attempts until he properly finds your lips, even if it's just a little peck, takes a while to be comfortable showing love in public.

So is it really a surprise he's super unsure when things get more serious?

Caresses start to linger longer, get more frequent, even sneak into teasing behavior the longer he considers himself yours.

Perhaps he's scared or maybe he's just treading unfamiliar territory.

Despite his obvious beauty the thought alone of being bare in front of the person that owns his non-existent heart for the first time feels odd.

The topic of intercourse is one you both have been dodging, too afraid to mess up and somehow upset the other.

An irrational fear and yet you can't help yourself, shying away from when anything even gets near that forbidden subject.

Tonight however Kuni feels particularly bold, pulling you into his lap instead of letting you lay next to him in the bed.

Constantly dancing around this issue is tiring, especially when he actually wants to be this close and connected with you.

Screw the awkward avoidance, this stupid panic of somehow disgusting the other and abandonment, he won't let it get in the way of what he craves any longer.

But actually having you sitting on his thighs now, warm and soft has him basically malfunctioning, hands frozen your hips as he stares at your blushing face.

Neither of you has any idea how to actually initiate anything.

You two stay like that for a solid minute, just looking at each other completely lost before you scoot a little closer, breath mixing with his.

In truth you're sick of letting your insecurities stop you from getting what you want as well.

Carefully you press your mouth to his, gentle, barely a brush but it's enough to snap him out of whatever trance took hold of him.

Confidence returns, striking him like a lightning bolt, causing him to lean in more, deepening the kiss.

Fingers automatically find their way into his hair, trailing from the back of his head all the way down to his nape where his electro symbol permanently marks him.

A shiver runs through him at the contact, it has always been incredibly sensitive to any kind of stimulation.

It's pleasant, a nice sensation, like a massage after a long day, no surprise you feel his cock start to twitch below you.

Egged on by the obvious positive reaction you keep tracing it, nails drawing light lines across, enjoying how he trembles in your grip.

Still as much as he likes it it quickly gets too much, too overstimulating when you rub over it again and again.

Shaking his head he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid motion before it gets too sore.

Flustered you try to recoil, obviously embarrassed you already did something he didn't like but his grip tightens slightly, keeping you in place.

Instead of letting you pull away he entwines your hand with his, a silent way of telling you that it's okay, he's not upset or angry.

Pushing you backwards, onto the mattress on your back he crawls above you, slotting himself between your legs, trying to hide how unsteady he is propped up by his arms.

Immediately the distance between you two shrinks, he can’t stand to be away from you and your heat right now, chest against chest.

Your heartbeat is steady but fast, fluttering nervously like a restless bird and he can’t deny he loves feeling it, reassurance that you’re very much alive and just as affected as him.

Unhurried palms drag up your sides, all the way up to your ribcage, the fabric of your top bunching around your waist, exposing some of your skin.

His member presses right against your cunt through layers of clothing, his hips rutting against you on instinct without any real thought behind it, grinding without any real consistent rhythm.

If he could he’d always stay like this, all his senses are filled with you, content.

Peeling away your bottoms with anxious movements he takes in the sight of you showing this much of your natural grace, his gaze soft, searching for any sign of distress or discomfort.

When he doesn’t find any he hooks his digits through the waistband of your panties, hesitating, chewing on his lower lip, suddenly unsure of himself.

Yet when he sees you wiggling to get out of them, the underwear soaked from his dick prodding against you, he quickly rids you of them, your pussy now visible in all its glory.

For a moment he’s absolutely hypnotized, blessed by the sight, relishing in the trust you show him even as you cover your face in shame.

The second his his thumb makes contact with your folds though you jolt, thighs clenching together on instinct.

He’s absolutely fascinated by your wetness, feeling around, exploring with the single goal of making this as blissful as possible for you.

It’s not that he’s completely unaware of anatomy but to his dismay he’s having quite the trouble finding your clit, a little lost now that he actually has you in his grasp.

Try as he might he misses it, barely but still only grazes it at most, it’s frustrating him more than it is you.

Deciding to help him out you reach down and guide him to the sensitive bundle of nerves, a gasp leaving your throat once he actually applies the tiniest bit of pressure on it, squirming under him.

You look so good he could watch you writher all day and not get bored but his cock is so painfully hard at this point that he can’t wait any longer.

In the blink of an eye his shorts are gone, too inpatient now as he lines himself up with your quivering hole, poking and testing until he finds the right position.

Desperation and want takes over his mind, he slams inside with a single thrust, only realizing when he hears your chocked shriek.

Stilling he instantly regrets his mindless actions, he can’t stand the fact he might have gotten too carried away and might have accidentally hurt you in such a vulnerable state, the one person he swore to never ever cause pain.

Kuni is about to remove himself and tend to you but you wrap your legs around him, locking him in, it’s clear you don’t want to stop.

“Slower...” Such a tiny whisper that carries so much in it, so powerful and heavy with need, you refuse to let a few mistakes ruin this night.

With unbelievable care he embraces you in his arms, face buried in your shoulder, tiny smooches pressed against it as silent apologies, he can’t undo what just transpired but he can soothe you and learn from this.

Letting you adjust he starts a relaxed pace, making sure you’re fine, thumb still drawing circles on your nub, bolts of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Back and forth, rocking in and out repeatedly he listens to your voice, moans and whimpers starting to spill from you, it shows him he’s doing somewhat of a good job.

Bottoming out his tip glides smoothly against your inner walls over and over, dragging deliciously against them.

However no matter how much he tries to hold it together, the combination of months of yearning and your hot insides around him has his poor untouched body on the edge very quickly.

Unused to this kind of sensation he shudders, he just can’t last long, can’t keep himself from already cumming, sheathed in your cunt his seed floods deep, mortified by his early release, you just feel way better than he could have ever imagined.

Instead of getting mad or disappointed you stroke his strands, fully expecting this to now be over, not that you’d complain, this felt good after all.

That won’t do in his eyes though, as unexperienced as he is he won’t leave you hanging like this just because he couldn’t control himself.

Imagine your shock when his fingers don’t pause on your clit, his other hand making its way up to your breast.

Since your childhood you’ve been dreaming of being an idol, making music, appearing on stage, inspiring fans.

You started small, a few covers here and there on social media and YouTube, then original songs, working your way from nothing to the top.

One after the other your songs trended, becoming hits, many people resonated with your lyrics and instrumental delivery to the point you managed to host a few shows.

Then more, until you have finally now clawed your way into the industry, millions of followers and listeners, touring worldwide.

Gaining popularity came with hardships you didn’t expect however, your life and everything surrounding it suddenly public knowledge.

Reporters and photographers are after you constantly, their cameras pointed at you from every possible angle, capturing every blink and change in expression, sometimes you wonder if they even consider that you’re only human.

Living in a world of flashing lights the one sanctuary you have to breathe and relax are your hotel rooms, you’re barely home anymore.

And even then paparazzi follow you to the very doorstep of where you’re staying, security keeping them from chasing after you any further.

Flopping down face first on your rooms bed you can’t help but let out a heavy sigh, exhausted after another successful concert.

The constant surveillance is getting to you, they keep swarming around you like shark circling prey, overstimulating and irritating you to no end.

While you adore your fans the unlimited attention of media is making you question if this was all worth it, privacy is now a privilege that seems far out of reach.

Thinking you’re at least safe in these four walls your eyes drift shut, completely tired and ready to rest.

But then you hear it, the click of a shutter you’ve unfortunately become so familiar with.

Shooting up you scan your surroundings but find nothing out of the ordinary. No blinking lights in any corner, no obvious lenses pointed at you.

Yet another quiet click is audible, a white flash going off outside your window.

Peeking out the curtains you’re immediately blinded by it, tiny specks dancing across your vision before you can shift your focus on the person currently taking pictures of your balcony.

Starring back at you are indigo irises, the man they belong to unashamedly holds up the little device, risking another shot before being ushered away by males in black suits, not an ounce of regret in his expression.

You know that face. His unusual hair color makes him easy to spot in crowds, he’s been at every single one of your tour spots for the past few months.

Panicking you search the entire internet for any recent articles or posts regarding you and your location, you can’t have your exact room number leaked, it would put your safety greatly at risk.

Not finding anything however, not even hours after the incident you get more confused than paranoid.

How did he know your exact position and what is he doing with those photos if he doesn’t post them or use them for work?

Why has he been following you around the globe? He’s obviously not just a casual fan or paparazzi, there has to be more to it.

You should be terrified, maybe even report him but you can’t help but be more curious than scared.

Has he done this before? Have you maybe just not noticed or questioned his pursuit of you?

Making it your goal to find out you finally go to sleep, getting the rest you should have hours ago, windows and blinds shut so not a single soul able to peek through.

Outside he still lingers, scrolling through his latest catches, you’re completely unaware of the fact his phone and any electrical device he owns, even his walls are filled with hundreds and thousands of images, all containing you, snapshots no one has ever seen before.

Some more risky than others, more personal, clearly taken from hidden spots.

This has been going on for way longer than you think, he isn't interested in the professional front you put on for his colleagues, he wants to see the real you, unfiltered.

And he doesn't plan on ever releasing those to other people's sights, these are just for him.

Now that you’re aware of his existence you had a feeling he'd try and sneak in backstage upcoming concerts, just to get more material for his collection.

The moment you pick up on the tiniest sound of a camera you pounce, head whipping towards its origin, standing face to face with him.

Cornering him he doesn't look the least bit regretful, in fact he looks delighted, your attention is solely on him and in his mind that's a wonderful experience.

"Why do you follow me everywhere I go?" Straight up asking him seems to be the only way to get some answers to your burning questions, the only way to ease the paranoia of finding something online that shouldn’t be.

"There's no reason for you to do so, there's enough other famous people to report on." Glaring at hi doesn’t seem to faze him one bit.

He just smiles, tilting his head, unsettling.

"They aren't you." And with that he sprints off, bolting for the exit just as security rounds the corner behind you.

It quickly becomes a game of cat and mouse, you'd try to catch him at every show, at every destination but every time you manage to actually talk to him he gives you the same reply.

Without even realizing you learn more about him the more you interact with him, automatically searching for him in all those masses.

His name, his age, where he's from, you get closer to him than you'd like to admit despite his very obvious obsession with you, even giving him a permanent backstage pass so he doesn't have to juke staff anymore.

Relishing in the fact you give him special treatment he visits you every day, still often snapping pics when he thinks you’re none the wiser.

Rarely does he publish anything about you though, hording everything to himself, like a lovesick stalker.

You can’t bring yourself to mind though, especially when he once again keeps you company at your make-up station late evening.

Stylist have all already gone home, the only people left are now the guards at the entrances and you two with him sitting on the desk of your vanity, facing you as you clean yourself up, completely fascinated by your movements and natural beauty.

Alone with him you allow yourself to relax more often than not, no facade masking anything.

Putting down the item you were holding you meet his gaze, he doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t avert his eyes.

Instead he leans in, invading you space to the point you can feel his breath brush your skin.

“Are you still wondering why I find you so interesting?” Caught off guard you just nod, watching as he slides off the surface, walking behind you.

Resting his hands on your shoulders the only way to observe him now is the mirror.

Maybe you'll finally get answers?

Massaging you gently you can't help but melt a little, you didn't realize how tense you are.

Whispers hit the shell of your ear, words meant just for you, even if you're both the only ones around.

"You radiate kindness, compassion, even though you have millions of fans you stay humble." His palms knead firmer but not rough.

“Your features are striking, no matter the angle you look like model.” The compliments make your cheeks flush, his chest pressing against your back, warmth seeping into you as his fingers wander down your upper arms, squeezing occasionally.

“Emotions you feel are very much visible, you don’t hide them away.” Digits trace even further down, drawing nonsensical shapes on your waist.

“I like that about you. Happiness, anger, sadness... I’ve seen almost every single one cross that gorgeous face of yours. Except one.” Even lower, playing with waistband of your bottoms as if contemplating something in his thoughts before moving on down to your thighs.

At this point you’re squirming in your seat, flustered, he knows exactly how to rile you up, what to say and do.

Placing his chin on your shoulder his stare finds yours through the mirror, intense as always.

“Won’t you allow me to see what your pleasure looks like?”

Breath hitching you’re thrown off by his boldness, you shouldn’t have expected anything less from someone lingering outside your windows though.

Holding eye contact you don’t object as his fingers sneak under your clothing, one under your shirt, the other into your panties.

Trailing along the underside of your bra he teases the skin below it, simultaneously dragging his digits through your folds, back and forth slowly, enjoying the growing wetness, fully aware he’s the cause.

Legs twitch close on reflex, closing around him as you arch into his touch, nudging him where you want him.

His thumb lazily rubs circles across your clit, the tips of his index and middle playing around at the edge of your quivering hole but not dipping in just yet, withholding them on purpose as he views every reaction of yours on that reflective piece of glass in front of you.

If he could he would immortalize this very moment on a film roll but he prefers having his hands full of you instead of some tech right now.

Palming your chest through the fabric of your underwear he brushes across one of your sensitive nipples, feeling it pebbling under his caress.

A whines escapes your lips, one he’d gladly listen to over and over again.

Nipping at your neck he toys with your bundle of nerves, waiting until you’re restless in your chair before finally plunging two fingers into your pussy, no warning whatsoever.

Your head falls back, a surprised moan ripping from your throat from the sudden intrusion but he can’t have you just stare at the ceiling, can he?

Grabbing your cheeks, he guides you to look forward again just so he can keep savoring the bliss written all over your facial muscles, your eyes dazed and unfocused, completely ignoring your own reflection.

Unwilling to rush this his pace is unhurried, pulling out just to thrust them back in, careful but determined to make you feel good.

In and out, again and again he dives them in, scissoring them apart, that sweet sting of being stretched making you shiver.

Nerves feel like they’re on fire as he ruins you right there and then purely to satisfy his own curiosity, speed getting harsher and faster the louder you get, his mouth leaving hickeys you’ll definitely have to cover up later.

Currently you couldn’t care less, you only care about the ecstasy jolting through your entire system, shocking as if you got hit by lightning.

The thrill of being so intently observed in such a vulnerable state makes you clench on his hand, to him you’re like an artpiece he gets to analyze.

Harder, deeper they push, making you see stars, not from camera lights for once but from the sheer amount of stimulation inside your cunt, tips rubbing against your inner walls.

The constant assault on your poor pussy has you reaching your high fast, especially when he keeps grazing your bean without hesitation, evident in how vocal you’re getting.

Coming undone you gush all over him, soaking through whatever cloth is still covering you as you tremble, only then does he slow down, removing himself from your tight heat.

Entranced by the way you look when you cum he can’t quite believe he got to witness such a private spectacle, not only that he’s the whole reason for your orgasm.

Lifting you he sits you down on his lap, burying himself in your hair, the smell of your shampoo easing his mind.

Ever since you've met you have been fighting for the top spot with Kuni, comparing test scores even in unimportant classes, keeping track of who outsmarted the other with a sheet.

It started petty, some silly little showing off but the longer you know him the more competitive you both became until it escalated into a full blown rivalry, the fact you somehow always end up in the exact same class doesn't help either.

Now the two of you aim for the best possible grade just to spite the other, studying with the sole motivation to surpass your self-appointed opponent, students are sure you'll actually compare your theses when the time comes.

At the start of the current semester you made a bet with him, you'd compare every exam up, the person who got the higher percentage would be allowed to think up a 'punishment' for the other.

Throughout the year it was a mix of embarrassing dares and harmless jokes, you once made him wear cat ears to class while he got his revenge the very next quiz, making you look like you got dressed in the dark.

Nothing ever too extreme though.

Finals are quickly approaching, you review material day and night up until the very moment you sit in that chair, not because you desperately want to pass, that was a bonus in your mind.

No, you just want to beat him, simple as that.

He's seated next to you, leaning casually on his his palm, shooting you a smug, confident smirk.

Did he study? Absolutely not, he's certain he got this in the bag.

You glare back at him, your fellow classmates just ignore you at this point, used to your shenanigans.

The exam itself is easy, you and him are the first to finish and submit it.

Waiting for the results however feels like hell on earth, torture even with his constant teasing.

It makes you certain that whatever he has in mind for ridiculing you this time will be absolutely shameful, push any boundaries you've set.

When you get it back you almost rip the paper with how fast you grab it to look at what might be either your greatest achievement or your downfall.

A 99%.

Surely that's enough, right?

Wrong. Strutting over to you is him, triumph already in his features as he slaps down the piece of paper on your desk, the number 100 staring right at you.

He literally beat you by one single percentage, you can't believe it.

Booping you on your nose he leans in so only you can hear him whisper.

"Meet me after lessons are over." Just like that he disappears out the door and down the halls.

Defeated you want to bang your head against your table, one single mistake cost you the satisfaction of seeing him fulfill your funniest challenge yet!

Even worse, now you have to suffer whatever cruelty he came up with.

But you can't chicken out now, you're not some coward that runs away from the consequences of your own failure.

So you go and see him, by the entrance exactly as he said.

Expecting the worse you stand in front of him, tense and shrinked into yourself.

"Don't look so afraid." Words meant for comfort but leaving his mouth they sound mocking, especially with that shit eating grin currently resting on his face.

"I've been looking forward to this for months, I won't let you opt out now."

Swallowing hard you brace yourself for the humiliation surely to come.

Obviously both of you would have saved the best for last, working towards this opportunity, weeks leading up to this very exchange.

"Stay over at my place tonight." Straight forward and simple.

You blink, confused and baffled you squint suspiciously at him. That's it?

Not thinking twice about it you nod, unbeknownst to you you just agreed to enter a hungry lions home.

And you're on his menu.

Dragging you by your wrist you barely register the walk to his front door, too distracted.

At first it's a normal evening, he cooks dinner, drinks some tea with you and rubs his victory in your face, a few snide remarks here and there.

Midnight isn't far away after all that taunting, he insists you sleep next to him in his bed.

Trapping you in his arms your back is pressed right against his chest, his body right against yours, not letting you refuse this closeness.

Unable to relax you're stiff as a board, you've been rivals for so long and now you're supposed to cuddle with him? There has to be a catch, no way does he just want to gently hold you.

His hand absentmindedly traces the side of your waist, nothing unusual for a couple.

Except you're not lovers, you're what people would assume to be enemies, always annoying each other.

Shuffling even closer to you his breath hits the nape of your neck, palms sliding even lower.

"You know, I think I deserve something else for surpassing you like this, don't you think." So that's what he's after, sneaky bastard.

Fingers quickly wedge themselves under your waistband, making you jolt with surprise, head snapping towards him.

Unbothered his thumb draws circles on your hips as he stares right back at you, not a single ounce of shame in his expression.

"I've been pinning after you the moment you got so determined to be better than me." The reality is that your stubbornness intrigued him more than anything else.

Kisses hit your skin, chipping away at the tension in your being.

"It's cute how you try your best simply to spite me."

Turning you over onto your back he makes his way up your throat, over your jawline he pecks at the corner of your lips.

"Won't you let me relish in the prize I've chosen?"

Your cheeks flush but you don't pull away, don't shove him off.

Perhaps this is what you wanted all this time, his attention on you.

He climbs above you, hovering, caging you between him and his mattress.

Eyes drill into yours, silently asking for your permission to take this even further, barely holding back from just ravaging you immediately.

The second you give the slightest nod he’s on you, one of his thighs slipping between yours, pressing against your cunt through whatever bottoms you’re wearing while his teeth nip at whatever exposed skin he can find.

Back and forth his leg moves, creating friction where you’re pooling arousal that you haven’t even realized yet, subconsciously grinding and bucking your hips against him.

Panties cling to your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending delicious shocks of pleasure across your nerves, limbs automatically closing around him to keep him in place.

Whines and gasps leave your throat, begging for more without actually saying anything at all as your breathing speeds up, squirming below him from the unfamiliar assault on your senses.

Tempted to give in he has to try and keep his composure, this wouldn’t be a fair reward for himself if he just folds to your demands after all.

Instead he keeps repeating the same motion over and over, teasing you with nothing but pressure against where your hole is already fluttering around nothing behind all that fabric, greatly enjoying just watching you unravel.

Listening to your little pants get heavier the longer he keeps this up is like music to his ears, the sweetest symphony, the image of this once proud student desperate to get better grades than him now falling apart from a little bliss is too good to be true.

Chasing the high he created you’re straight up humping his thigh, needy.

Yet when you’re this close to the peak of ecstasy he pulls away, the only thing now brushing against you being the warmth radiating off him.

A chocked, protesting whimper forces its way out your mouth, chasing after the former contact.

“Do you really think someone who got a measly 99% on such a simple final gets to immediately cum? Without me? Oh no, no, no.” Even now he’s still mocking you.

Patience gone he just straight up rips any lingering barriers away, your pussy now bare for him and him only.

His own shorts soon follow, freeing his painfully hard cock, he seems completely feral now that he got a taste of you, addicted even.

No more waiting. No more stalling, in the blink of an eye he thrusts into your tight heat, a shudder running down his spine as he sheathes himself inside.

Cursing through gritted teeth his arms wrap around you in an unescapable embrace, face burying in your shoulder as he stills, body coiled like a spring.

Back arching off his sheets your nails reflexively dig into his back, scratching down in an attempt to ground yourself.

Bottoming out all the way he slowly removes himself until only the tip remains, slamming back in harshly, rough, any gentleness evaporated when he felt your inner walls around him.

Setting a fast, merciless pace he pounds into you again and again, his bed creaking under the rapid rocking, he can’t care less if it might be disturbing his neighbors, his focus is only on you.

Chest right against your own it feels incredibly hot, its unbearable and still not enough at the same time, the head of his dick reaching so deep stars are bursting across your vision.

He can’t get enough of you, of the feeling of you clenching around him so perfectly, moaning so beautifully right by his ear.

Quivering from all the stimulation you lock your legs around his hips, not allowing an inch of space between you, pulling him even closer.

Ruts get sloppier the more he nears his own release, speeding up even more if even possible, absolutely lost in you.

Unable to take much more after being so riled up he shoots his load without much warning, the only thing giving you a heads up being his twitching cock.

Months of controlling himself all semester finally caught up to him now that he has what he always wanted laying in front of him, expression contorted in pleasure, eyes glazed over.

Collapsing against you he doesn’t pull out yet, instead his index finds your clit, applying just enough touch to have you gush around his softening member, voice unfiltered loud.

You've been playing with the thought of getting a tattoo for years now, it's something that never really left your mind.

So you decided to finally muster up the courage and get one done, booking an appointment with Kuni, a tattoo artist you've met in passing at a friend's birthday party.

The two of you hit it off, a little flirting here and there over a few drinks.

He himself has several tats, up his back and arms, clearly visible under his sleeveless turtleneck.

Seeing them is what finally encouraged you to get one yourself, they look so good.

Ultimately he gave you his contacts and told you to shoot him a message if you want one.

But you didn't expect it to be so intense.

The studios door is locked so he can work on you in peace without interruptions, blinds closed for privacy, no one can come or look inside.

Perhaps it's the placement you chose, right under your chest on your ribcage, in combination with his intense stare as he concentrates that has you feeling incredibly exposed.

Sitting there basically shirtless without anything to cover your tits expect your hand has you flustered, especially in front of the guy that you've been hitting on.

Or maybe it's the fact you didn't expect it to hurt that much, the tiny needle jabbing ink into your skin again and again.

Whatever the reason, you can't sit still properly, constantly jolting or shifting in the reclined seat.

His eyebrows twitch in irritation, a scowl on his features as his eyes shift up to yours.

"Stop moving so much, you don't want me to mess up." A simple command before he goes back to work.

Biting your inner cheek you try to keep still, you're the one that wanted it in that specific place after all, despite him discouraging it for your first ever inking.

Not to mention the detail and size, you'll be here for a while.

And yet you're still shuffling, uncomfortable from the tiny pokes.

"Oh for gods sake." The tiny cap filled with black liquid almost spills over as he slams his machine down on his side table, not enough force to damage it but enough to rattle the surface.

"Stop squirming. Or do I need to pin you down and tie those pretty wrists up?" Glaring at you it's clear he fully means what he says, one more twitch and he'll get out the binds.

Freezing you meet his intense stare, swallowing hard at the threat, that’s not just an empty promise and you know it.

“Be good now.” Is all he says, resuming the process of permanently marking you, acting completely unbothered by your flushed face.

But try as you might after 5 minutes a particularly sensitive spot has you once again shying away from the assault creating beautiful artwork on your very being.

Pausing he takes a deep, almost disappointed sounding breath, fishing for something under the chair with one hand.

Cuffs. Actual soft padded black cuffs. He really wasn’t joking.

Never will he let you know he got those laying around specifically for you, that he hoped you'd fidget just so he'd have an excuse to see you all bound just for him.

Giving you barely time to react both your arms are quickly trapped above you with a firmness that doesn’t allow any more room to move away, the locks clicking shut with finality.

No escape until he finishes this properly, until it meets his standards.

This new position now leaves you with nothing to cover up, your palms now out of reach while also restricting you from being restless.

He pretends to be unaffected by it, pretends to be professional, he has seen many peoples body parts in his time as an artist after all.

Being so close to your bare breasts however is greatly taking its toll on him, you’re not just any client after all, you’re someone he’s been actively pinning after at every shared event your shared friends host.

Now you’re here, right in front of him, unable to even pull away from the tool in his grip anymore.

It’s not like he can claim to ever have tied up another patron either, you’re the first.

Finally able to finish without any more interruptions on your part he leans back, admiring his lines before his sight shifts to the swell of your tits, staring without any obstacles in the way, unashamed.

Placing the second skin over the fresh tattoo his knuckles ‘accidentally’ brush across their underside, relishing in the way you shiver at the slightest contact.

You’re not yelling at him to stop, not struggling in your restraints or shouting at him.

Instead you’re just blushing, silent except your shaky breathing, looking oh so helpless and delicious, nipples pebbling.

Encouraged by your lack of resistance his irises finally force themselves away, locking onto yours instead as he leans in closer, hovering above you, blocking out the overhead light with his silhouette.

Giving you all the chance to turn your head away or kick him he slowly inches closer until his lips barely touch yours, feeling little puffs of air hit them, hesitating for only a second.

Any doubts go out the window when you start chasing his mouth yourself, kissing you properly after weeks of back and forth feels like little fireworks exploding across his nerves.

Hungry he basically devours you, not gentle like in some cheesy romance novel but desperate, the kiss is full of want and need as his hands hold you down by your waist as if you could somehow get away in the first place.

Making use of the vulnerable pose he’s put you in his fingers trail up, leaving goosebumps in their wake until he cups your tits properly, feeling their weight before squeezing, kneading them between his digits.

Pinching the mounts carefully has you gasping, muffled by his attack on your lips, sliding between your opening legs feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Pressing right against you, his weight leans on you as he keeps playing with your chest like they’re his personal stress balls, fondling, basically payback for making him lose his patience.

Rocking his hips against yours his hardening erection is very much obvious, how could he not get riled up by this sight alone.

He grinds against you, unhurried, teasing you through the fabric of your bottoms that he quickly gets rid of.

Even now you can’t squirm away from pleasure, one index rubbing against your bare clit in circles, your pussy soaked from the perverse attention, thighs quivering around him.

Your whines and whimpers egg him on even more, his own willpower running thin as he lines himself up with your hole, biting at your neck as he thrusts in without any warning.

Wrists tugging at the cuffs you attempt to get free, wanting to touch him too, however Kuni doesn’t give you that satisfaction, considering this punishment for all the times you acted oblivious to his advances.

His pace starts slow, bottoming out all the way and just staying like that for several seconds, only to pull back out in an almost torturous tempo, the tip of his cock dragging against your inner walls.

Slamming back in he repeats that exact motion, speeding up the slightest bit as you clench around him tears of frustration stinging your eyes, you wish he’d just go faster yet you can’t do anything about it at his mercy.

As if he read your mind he suddenly accelerates, rutting in deep and harsh over and over, one palm still on one of your breasts while the other thumbs at your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Wrapping your legs around him you trap him, not allowing space between you two.

Moans rise in volume, the sting of your fresh tattoo long forgotten as he stretches you out elsewhere, senses overwhelmed with bliss delivered to you by his dick instead of pain from a needle.

Hitting that sweet spot buried far inside of you has you trembling below him, tightness spasming around him.

The feeling is overwhelming for both you and him, his own sounds of enjoyment escaping his throat, no matter how hard he tries to hold them back.

You’re just way too amazing like this, he could do whatever he wanted to you like this.

Shoulders shake as he attempts to keep at it without falling off that tempting edge just yet, wanting to indulge just a little longer in this sin but when you yourself clearly can’t take it anymore, gushing all over his cock and the seat it sends him following not much later.

Cumming in your sweet cunt he takes a moment to calm down, removing himself just to watch your boneless self on his chair, leaking his very essence as he unlocks those cuffs.

After several years of marriage you'd think he'd remember important days like the date you started dating, your marriage anniversary or even your birthday.

Waking up today you're excited, it's the day you were born after all, the one time you can allow yourself to be pampered and horde all the attention to yourself.

You expect your husband to be the first to shower you with love, looking over at where he's slowly waking up, rubbing his eyes.

All that you get however is the usual good morning greeting and forehead kiss, you can barely register what just happened before he already disappears into the bathroom, getting ready.

Whatever, surely he'll remember at breakfast, right?

But even then there's nothing, only casual conversation as you poke at the food you yourself made for both of you.

Throughout the hours many people congratulate you, family, friends even coworkers and yet there's radio silence from Scaramouche.

No messages delivered from subordinates, no gifts dropped off from him.

It makes you incredibly sad, you were looking forward to having an excuse to hang around him today.

Did he really forget? Does he care that little?

Perhaps he's just busy with harbinger duties?

Still it stings that your own spouse would be so oblivious.

Trying to distract yourself you decide to go out to eat with some acquaintances, receiving gifts but your heart stays heavy at the lack of acknowledgement on his part.

Coming home in the evening your shoulders are tense, a frown gracing your features.

Half expecting him to already be in the bed sleeping you're completely caught off guard by the sight of a cake resting on the dinner table.

Clearly handmade.

And sitting next to it is your husband, staring at it before noticing you're standing in the doorway, frozen.

"You're home." His gaze softens as he gets up, rounding the table and walking towards you.

Pulling you into a gentle embrace he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"I was waiting for you." A whisper, barely brushing against your ear.

"Did you really think I forgot? Happy birthday, darling..."

So he was waiting for you to leave to start baking. Probably had the home surveillanced by his underlings.

A sweet gesture, one that makes you happy and yet you can't help but feel disappointed, evident by how you're still not smiling at him.

He notices of course, mirroring your expression, asking what's wrong without words.

"I wanted to spend time with you." Instead you spent the whole day feeling down, in the trenches when it should have been full of joy just because you thought it slipped his mind.

Realizing that him ignoring you since this morning basically sucked the fun out of these past few hours for you has him feel embarrassed and guilty, an emotion he doesn't feel for many.

Now that it's late, almost night there's not much he can take you to to make up for it, it seems his attempt at surprising you failed from the very start.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the cake. But I wish we could have made it together, you know?" Wrapping your arms around him you pull him closer.

"I wanted to have you all to myself for once, no distractions, no meetings or missions. Just us."

"Then have me." The sentence slips out before he can think twice about it, a hidden opportunity showing itself.

You blink, once, twice even, your mood suddenly magically lighter.

"Really? You'll be my birthday present?" Grip tightened on him you don't let him squirm away, don't let him back out.

Oh dear, what has he gotten himself into?

But the sparkle in your eyes shuts any doubts down he might have had, nodding even though he's getting nervous.

"The whole night. Do whatever you want, with or to me." He might regret this later. Or maybe he won't, only one way to find out.

In seconds you're on him, guiding him backwards into the bedroom, towards your shared sheets until he falls onto them with a shove.

Crawling above him you cage him between yourself and the mattress, eyes now wild and focused only on him.

Carefully but swiftly you undress him completely, laying him bare before you.

On instinct he tries to cover himself somewhat, you don't let him, grabbing his wrists just as fast and pinning them down, a silent order to keep them there.

You trail your fingertips down his arms, to his chest, only barely making contact with his skin.

Goosebumps spread across, a shiver wrecking through him at the slight caresses, he feels absolutely exposed with him nude but you fully clothed.

Tracing even lower your digits brush against his waist, slender sides shying away, over his hips and to his thighs, completely avoiding his hardening cock on purpose.

Instead you massage the softness of his upper legs a little, squeezing, exploring so close to where he wants you to touch but never actually grazing it.

Bucking into your hands doesn't help either, you just pull away, teasing him until he's literally squirming, dick twitching from the slightest breeze, aching.

Leaning down you blow on it a little, enough to make him jolt off the pillow, shifting around.

Giving you this much power might have been a bad idea.

Kisses now replace your fingers, following the path they went in reverse, up his legs, torso until they pepper across his neck, finally landing on his lips.

The moment your mouth connects with his any restraint you might have still had evaporates.

You're hungry, incredibly so, starving to the point you devour him, pressed against him.

Grinding your covered cunt against his almost painful erection has him unable to hold his whimpers back.

"Can you please just-" cutting him off with another smooch you shake your head at him, scolding.

He doesn't get to dictate the pace, not today.

Nevertheless you're getting impatient too, freeing yourself of any barrier between his cock and your pussy, letting it glide between your folds.

Scaramouche sighs shakily at the wet friction, head falling back a little at the sensation.

Moving back and forth a bit he doesn't expect you to slam down on him without warning, taking his entire length abruptly.

A chocked gasp leaves him, he has no time to react before you're already continuing on, lifting yourself until only the tip remains before dropping back down, bottoming out.

His back arches, he's extra sensitive after your shenanigans, your tight heat enveloping him without mercy.

Bouncing up and down again and again you absolutely rock his world, his face completely blissed out, letting you ride him like he exists just to give you pleasure.

His hands fist the sheets, the urge to grab and guide you but when he even as much as lifts them towards you they immediately get pinned back down by you.

Over and over his cock rubs against your inner walls, your speed decreasing whenever he tries to thrust up, leaving him on the edge several times until he can't take it anymore.

Moans rise in volume, chest heaving up and down.

Writhering he comes undone, seed releasing inside you as he quivers, eyes glossy.

He goes boneless, limbs heavy but you don't stop, in fact you go even harder, faster.

The sting of overstimulation sets in fast, it's so good yet too much, he can't decide if he wants to pull away or lean in for more. Not that he has either choice with you on top of him.

You're relentless, his dick never even fully softening under your continued actions, he's shaking from the assault on every single one of his senses.

Nerves feel like they're on fire, his skin is flushed red, heavy pants leaving his throat.

Purposefully clenching around him has him blabbering nonsense as he feels a second orgasm build, tears pricking at the corner of his lids from being so overwhelmed with ecstasy.

Having you gush around him it slams into him full force, hitting him like a punch, even more intense than the previous one, leaving him breathless.

Trembling he can't even get any words out, mouth open but so sound leaves, his brain has short circuited.

Sitting there, still with him inside you, you watch him carefully, no one else but you gets to see the mighty 6th harbinger this ruined.

Removing yourself from him has him seize up, any featherlight touch now perceived as incredibly extreme.

Scaramouche, the abandoned prince, deemed unfit for the crown by his mother even though it is his birthright as the firstborn.

She called him too emotional to rule properly from a young age, refusing to back down from her decision even as the council protested.

Useful for only this, how can he refuse?

The cast aside child is now being used as an offering to stop the hells invasion of his mother's nation, a forced reunion he did not agree to, but what is he supposed to do? He can't say no, can't run away.

And he blames everything on you the moment those papers are signed.

You, his demon spouse he never wanted in the first place.

He hates your kind, hates that you robbed him of the chance to fall in love on his own accord, that this is all he's worth.

There is no grand ceremony, no lavish wedding, only quiet signatures.

Every time he looks at you he can't help but be reminded that this is all he is now, a mere tool for peacekeeping to be married off, nothing more.

Never does he consider you might be in the same position as him, taking out his anger on you, justifying it to himself.

None of your features are safe from his insults, he despises your horns, your tail, your claws, your fangs, even your unnatural eyes, everything that makes it obvious you're not human.

But can you blame him and his frustration?

No, instead you try to understand, try to remind yourself why he's as mad as he is yet it doesn't sting any less.

If you wanted to you could easily make him shut up, you're way stronger due to your nature but you've never been one for violence, perhaps it's exactly that softness that got you into this mess in the first place.

Still, you care about him and his well being, as much as he shouts or yells at you he's still your husband.

Though you can't deny it hurts deep, the more you try to just get to know him the more he distances himself from you, words like venom thrown at you.

Coincidentally running into each other in a hallway? He'll literally turn around and walk the other way, glaring daggers at you.

Dinner? Sitting as far away from you as possible, no eye contact whatsoever.

Forced interactions he gets through only with gritted teeth and a fake politeness, the most he'll do is hold your hand or dance with you if required.

Not a single kiss is shared, not even a hug, to him you're just a monster without feelings he needs to consider.

Unbeknownst to him his entire view of you would flip upside down.

It was supposed to be a day like any other, train a little, attend to his royal duties, eat and sleep.

Mostly it went according to schedule all the way until evening.

Scaramouche always insists on dining late, after his mother and sister have already finished and left, he can't stand pretending to be some happy royal family when they're the people who have betrayed him in more ways than one.

Unfortunately for him you demand to join him every time, even when he sits at the far other end of the table.

The food was served as always, still hot, smelling delicious.

First forkful meets his mouth, nothing odd about it.

Then another, and another, careless.

Half his meal is finished, you're just poking at yours uninterested when his cutlery falls from his hands with loud clanks, his body frozen.

Air suddenly feels like it's stuck in his lungs, he can't breathe, can't speak.

His pupils are blown huge, he's nauseous but only a chocked up sound manages to come out of his throat, a pathetic try at voicing distress.

Servants have long left, he always shoos them away and now that might be his downfall.

Walls spin in his vision, tilting, doubling, consciousness fast fading as his chest heaves in desperate need for proper oxygen.

Something is wrong, very wrong, he feels hot all over like he's boiling alive as panic sets in.

Shadows dance on the edge of his sight, mocking as he drops off his chair onto the carpeted but hard floor, darkness consuming him with the last thing he sees being you rushing towards him.

He doesn't know what happens after or how long he's out cold.

What he knows for sure though is that he's still alive, evident by him slowly waking up in his own bed, covers carefully tucked around him.

His head hurts, the light shining into his face is too bright, making him squint, his body feels like heavy metal but he's still among the living.

Slowly all his senses return to him, looking over to the side of his bed he sees you, sitting on a chair like some guardian.

Staring at you for a long time he finally understands, you're the one who saved him, the reason he's still here even if he doesn't know how you did it, he's honestly not sure he wants to ask.

A maid let's slip that if it wasn't for your presence and fast acting he would have been a goner, from what he pieces together you used a combination of hellish powers and humane first aid practices.

Recovery is hard but he hears bits here and there, of how poison was found in his mashed potatoes and how it was traced to demons, who cussed you out for coming to his rescue and officially exiled you.

You don't seem to care though, tending to him, your husband that was nothing but cruel to you, until his strength returns.

Suddenly he sees you in a new light, he's ashamed of how he treated you in the past, he was so rude to you, downright awful.

Despite that you still came to his aid when you could have just let him die, chose him over your own kind, overseeing his progress towards proper health personally.

You make sure he eats and takes his meds on time, drag him out of bed even on days he complains, carefully guide him to use his legs again.

Hatred still bubbles inside him, not directed at you anymore, instead at those who wronged him and by extension you.

Now he follows you around like a lost stray cat, the prince went from completely ignoring you to being glued to your hip, now proud to call you his partner, furious at anyone that tries to disrespect you.

Pulling you along through his routine he makes sure he's never apart from you longer than an hour, incredibly attached to you after everything, moving you into his chambers permanently to spend nights curled into your side.

Honestly, he expected you to refuse his clingy affection after all those months of being his punching bag but you gladly indulge him, happy that you get to properly hold him at last.

He's almost desperate for your attention and love now and so so glad when you give it to him, melting for you.

It's cute how safe he feels around you, you've become his safe haven without knowing, your lap or chest often acting as a pillow whenever he's exhausted.

Tonight was particularly draining, his shoulders are tense as he climbs into the sheets next to you, head immediately burying into your chest as his arms wrap around your waist, breathing you in.

It's ridiculous how fast he warmed up to you.

Massaging at his back you try to ease some of his stress away, nails gently tracing at his nape, making him shiver.

Always so good to him, he doesn't know what he did to deserve you or your trust.

Right in this moment he just wants to be pampered, pressing himself as close to you as possible in hope you take the hint.

His lids are already dropping, threatening to close in contentment as your fingers trail down his sides, an involuntary moan escaping him.

Blinking he realizes what he just did, cheeks flushing red from embarrassment, trying to sit up.

You don't let him, gripping his hips to keep him in place, earning you a tiny gasp in response.

Who knew he'd sound so pretty? It makes you want to absolutely ruin him right here and now.

Kiss after kiss hits his skin, first his forehead, then his nose, cheeks, jaw and corner of his mouth but never his lips.

Frowning he chases your pecks, wanting a proper smooch but you lean just out of reach, attacking his neck with hickeys instead while your hands wander and knead at his waist, searching for sensitive spots.

In no time at all he's squirming, trying to hide how flustered and turned on he's getting, no one has ever touched him like this.

Bucking against your thigh his arousal is made very much obvious by his whines and the tent forming in his shorts.

What a beautiful sight, his face all flushed, little pants puffing out as he does his best to play it down how affected he really is.

He's not fooling you however, not with him getting this hard from just a few caresses.

Perhaps he's just incredibly pent up or maybe that's just an excuse.

Nipping, sucking at his throat unravels him, composure slipping.

In these four walls he'll lay his heart bare for you.

Your digits find their way down, palming his cock through the fabric, his embrace around you tightening on reflex at the sudden pressure.

Shifting you roll the two of you over until you hover above him, his hair sprawling across the cushions like a messy halo, chest rising up and down repeatedly.

Fumbling with the buttons of his bottoms for a moment you free his dick from its tight confinement, not missing the relieved whimper he shakily let's out.

Watching him in awe you encircle the base of it, careful to mind your sharp claws, giving it a small squeeze while you scoot down, now face to face with his member.

It twitches, leaking the slightest bit of precum.

Leaning in you drag your tongue across the underside, pace unbothered, all the way to the tip and over his slit, tasting him.

Kitten licking the head he jolts under you, hand tangling in your locks, urging you to give him more.

Scooping the top into your mouth has him almost arch off the bed, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation of your wet warmth.

He barely recovers before you take more in, almost everything, sucking, only to remove yourself and stroke him up and down instead, unrushed at first.

Following a bulging vein occasionally you drive him absolutely crazy to the point he thrusts into your grip on him, wordlessly begging you for more, to go faster.

So you do, speeding up your movements.

Up and down in quick, rapid motions, rubbing your thumb across the tip sometimes in-between.

Lewd noises fill the room, a mix of his vocal pleasure and the sound of skin-on-skin action, he's an absolute mess, almost crying from the euphoria assaulting all of his nerves simultaneously.

Wrist moving swiftly you flatten your tongue against his shaft again before circling it around the head.

That breaks him, his body locks up as his moans rise in octave, the only warning you get before he cums hard, messy.

Nursing him through it with a few more strokes you reach for a tissue, cleaning him up as best as you can while he trembles, feeling spent and tired out of the blue.

Tugging at any part of you he can reach he needily brings you down to him, he just wants to be as close as possible now.

Eyes are glazed over with remaining evidence of his bliss as he makes himself comfortable in your arms.

If there's one thing the Wanderer still resents about himself it's the intensity of his own emotions, after all it's what got him abandoned in the first place.

He tries his hardest to slowly accept them for what they are but it's still a struggle.

Especially when you come along.

It's hard to explain what he feels for you, your unconditional kindness rivals even Niwas.

Without trouble you worm yourself into his empty chest, he feels something he can't quite place.

Something soft, warm.

And when Nahida tells him that's what humans call love? He loses it, barely keeping it together until his assigned living arrangements.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous, the very thought of such a feeling taking root makes him want to throw something, his leg bouncing up and down in irritation when he finally sits down.

Whatever, he'll just push it aside, it will go away eventually.

But it doesn't. In fact it gets worse. Way worse.

The more he pushes his interest in you down the more it sinks its teeth into his soul.

More than once he catches himself intently staring at you, even from a distance, glaring at nothing particular when he realizes.

Every waking thought is starting to be consumed by you, without your knowledge and he despises it.

Hates how he remembers your schedule, hates how his eyes automatically lock onto you whenever you're near, hates how much you're on his mind for simply existing, it's driving him insane.

What he hates the most however is the fact he knows you don't feel the same for him, after all how could you?

In his perspective he's the epitome of unlovable, no person would ever fall for him and your casual treatment of him is just confirming his inner doubts.

So he shields himself from the hurt, hiding behind anger.

You treat him like you treat anyone else, the same smile, the same laugh, the same politeness.

To you he's no one special at all.

It's an awful cycle, he's absolutely obsessed with you but resents you for it, he even tries to avoid you, getting annoyed whenever anyone even mentions your name, a snarl on his face.

Yet he can't stop, picking up on the tiniest habits of yours, noticing the smallest changes of your routine, even thinking of you whenever he attends his lectures at the akademiya.

Hell, he even dreams of you.

You're not even physically around him and he's still crazy for you.

It makes him want to rip his hair out, yell even.

He wants to scream at you, cut you out of his life, if looks alone could kill you would have dropped dead on the spot from his harsh gazes.

At the same time though he wants to hold onto you, kiss you until you're breathless and never let go, keep your affection only for himself.

Sketches of you fill the edges of his class notes, some carefully drawn with delicate pencil strokes, others clearly scribbled crudely in a fit of rage, the war inside him obvious from these doodles alone.

God he loathes you and his adoration for you, he knows it's unhealthy, unwell even.

What breaks him is seeing you interact with another guy, it makes him see red, jealousy cursing through him like a bolt of lightning.

It's nothing special, just a friendly conversation, no flirting whatsoever but it wakes something in him up, makes him realize that if he doesn't want to continue suffering in whatever purgatory he created for himself he has to act.

Has to actually try and get your attention or he'll forever be stuck drowning in this endless misery.

Twice as much now since his distance has made you start disliking being around him, he honestly can't blame you.

He'll have to actually work for a chance with you, he can't be sulking in his bitterness and blame you for his unrequited love when he has done nothing to woo you over.

Starting small he actually talks to you, even if through gritted teeth and clenched fists, leaves you tiny things here and there, your preferred sweets, earning your trust back.

Perhaps this is the only way to finally make sense of the mess inside his head.

When you don't immediately reject his advances he gets a little bolder, getting you your favorite flowers, of course he knows which, why wouldn't he?

Never will he tell you that he's been taking notes about your likes and dislikes like some stalker, or that he asked Nahida personally where to pick said flowers himself.

Wanderers patience is thin though, snapping when one day some poor fool tries hitting on you in the akademiyas library.

Obviously he can't force romantic feelings from you but he takes the fact you're starting to flush when he approaches as a good sign.

No more avoiding, no more watching from afar, for weeks he tries to actually court you, even if subtly.

Said person quickly flees, stuttering excuses when he notices Wanderer glaring daggers at him from behind you, promising bad things without saying a single word, an intimidating skill left over from his days as a harbinger.

Dragging you to a quiet corner in the house of Daena he traps you between his arms against a bookshelf, hands slamming next to your head.

He swore to himself he'd try to properly win you over, that he'd restrain himself but he's just too furious to think straight right now, he can't stand when a random man tries to snatch you away, angry at you, himself and his damn contradictory emotions.

Grabbing your face he doesn't hesitate, doesn't even think twice about it, crushing his lips against yours in a feisty sudden kiss.

It's not gentle, it's desperate, every ounce of hate, love, madness he's been bottling up for months pouring into this single moment, an outlet.

And when you don't pull away or slap him but instead shyly kiss back? Any remaining doubts disappear like smoke, he devours you like you're his last meal.

The sun over Sumeru has long set, the only remaining students the ones that have fallen asleep at the tables studying or researching, no one bothered by you two basically making out by the side.

Mouth moving against yours an unexplainable hunger settles in him, hunger for you he can't control, like a dam has broken.

In seconds he separates from you, pulling you to a place with more privacy, where nobody could walk in or interrupt what he craves.

Once again your back hits the cold surface of a wall, again and again he places smooches wherever he can reach, his body pressed tightly to yours.

One of his thighs finds its way between your own, rubbing against your sensitive clothed cunt, his face burying in your shoulder, overwhelmed with want for you.

Palms explore, squeezing before planting themselves firmly on your hips as he kisses your skin down your cheek, jawline, neck, leaving hickeys, eventually making his way across your sternum, waist and stomach.

Digits snake under your top, tracing along the edge of your waistband, wrecking shivers through you as he kneels in front of you, looking up at you with wild, dilated pupils, silently asking for permission to let loose.

Tugging your bottoms down when you nod he helps you step out of them before being greeted with your panties, slowly soaking the more he showers you with attention.

Guiding the tips of his fingers through covered folds he maps out every inch, noting the way you buck into them for more friction, trying to stifle any sounds that want to escape your throat.

Oh, he'll hear you soon enough, he'll make sure of that.

Back and forth they go, feeling you get wetter by the minute, fabric starting to cling to your clit, just begging to be teased.

Removing the last barrier between him and your pussy he pulls your underwear down as well, immediately relishing in the sight of you bare for him.

Wasting no time at all he dives in immediately, his tongue now replacing his digits, his hands now placed on your legs instead, hiking one over his shoulder for deeper access.

You taste heavenly to him, sighing in content he can literally feel any resentment he might have still had for you melt away like chocolate on a hot summer day.

Licking stripes down towards your quivering entrance he circles it once, twice, dipping the tip in shortly before bringing it back up to your sensitive nub.

Scooping it between his lips he gently sucks on it, jolts of bliss making your thighs quiver around his head as he feasts happily on you, holding your gaze from below.

Over and over he repeats the same rhythm, faster and faster until he actually plunges his tongue into your hole, coaxing the sweetest whimpers from you, whimpers he wishes to ingrain forever into his brain to listen to on repeat.

His grip on you tightens, he's the only thing holding you upright anymore, your knees threatening to buckle under you.

By your clenching he can tell you're close, your fast and heavy breathing is music to his ears as his thumbs caress across your skin, encouraging you to just let go and give in, humming against your cunt.

Holding onto a fistful of his soft indigo hair you twitch, orgasm crashing into you like a wave, chocked gasps leaving you as you gush right onto his features.

And he couldn't be more glad about it, even cleaning you up, nursing you through the aftershock.

Avoid people at all cost, that was Kunis only goal when college started.

Whenever he's not buried nose deep in a book he'll glare at anyone who even as much glances his direction, purely to keep them away.

You're complete opposites, you're popular, indulging many students in conversations he doesn't care to overhear.

Still, he can't help but admire how you're so outgoing, seemingly unbothered by peoples opinions or chatter.

Unfortunately for him he made himself the target of your attention.

He knows exactly how he got himself into this situation and he wants to curse himself for it.

All it took to have your focus on him was helping you on a problem you couldn't solve.

Sitting in the library you're staring at the sheet of paper in front of you with furrowed eyebrows.

Try as you might you just can't complete this damn homework, your thoughts fried from your classes of the day and the stress of exams.

Standing by the doorway he contemplates, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Should he help you or not? It's easy once you know the proper method...

Against his better judgement he approaches you with hesitant steps, eyes scanning your page to find what mistake is messing you up.

"You're doing it wrong." The words blurt out before he can think twice about them.

Only when you frown, looking at him like he just called you stupid he realizes how insulting he might be sounding, stuttering excuses.

"I mean..." His voice fails him, nervous tremors rock through him as he points at the source of your misery with shaky fingers, he has no idea why your presence makes him this shy.

"This... you're missing a step..."

For a long moment there's nothing but silence, only the occasional ticking of the wall clock interrupting the tension, his mind spiraling.

Oh god, what did he get himself into? Why did he think it was a good idea to approach the literal face of popularity at this school? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

What if you scream at him? Laugh at him? Bully him and spread rumors about him?

He spent the whole year dodging any social interactions and he ruins it with his own actions, how idiotic of him.

Mentally he's already going through the worst case scenarios, biding goodbye to his carefully crafted peace when you look up from the table.

That's it, you're going to sneer at him, yell at him that you don't need some dorks help.

But you don't. Instead you smile at him and thank him for his help with full honesty.

It confuses him, making him freeze as he looks at you like you just told him the sky is green.

"You're really smart, Kuni." You even know his name, something most don't even bother to remember.

Not only that, you're actually complimenting him, praising him, it's the first time anyone that isn't his teachers made a positive comment about his knowledge.

Flustered he looks away, trying to hide his reddening cheeks, a mistake on his part.

Watching the school nerd shy away from you, getting embarrassed by a simple statement when all he dies us snap at classmates or keep them at arms length has you intrigued.

So intrigued you're now basically glued to him every day, actively searching him out whenever you can.

Every other student still flinches away from his sharp eyes but he just can't shake you off, can't bring himself to shoo you away with his usual tactics either.

Again and again you manage to make his face flush, make his sentences get stuck in the back of his throat with your presence alone, any retorts dying before they can even leave his mouth.

He tries to keep his usual scary attitude but he feels like a prepubescent teenager who just developed his first crush around you.

And maybe that's exactly what it is, the realization of his feelings hits him like cold water on a random Thursday, in class as he sits next to you, unable to focus on his assignments.

Anyone sneaking glances would see horror cross his features before he pulls up his hoodie, tugging the strings tight, glasses almost getting crushed.

How can someone so radiant in comparison to him unravel him like this without any effort whatsoever?

Your constant presence softens his jagged edges to the point he finally feels comfortable around you after weeks, no unnecessary hiding behind insults, no barking of harsh words, he's just himself, content, no fear of judgement present.

Eating lunch in the cafeteria with you has become a routine, just like today.

Picking at his half finished food he notices you're unusually focused on him, basically staring.

In the past he would have immediately gotten nervous but today he for some reason feels bold.

"What are those pretty eyes so enamored by? I can almost see them twinkling." Caught of guard by his teasing you blink, once, twice.

Resting his head against his palm, elbow propped on the table he studies you closely, this time it's your cheeks that heat up, not his but he's not done.

"Are you daydreaming or am I just that interesting to look at?"

For once you're lost for words, you can't believe he turned the dynamic on you like this, this guy who used to clam up the moment he tried speaking to you is now actively flustering you.

Gaze locked onto yours his expression softens, only barely noticable but you pick up on it immediately.

Reaching over with his unoccupied arm he traces his index across your jawline before doing the same to your lips, almost absentmindedly.

Nothing around you two matters right now, not the bell ringing, not the chattering of fellow students as they file out to their next class, just him and you and this moment you share after yearning for each other for months.

No eyes on you, the popular chatterbox, for once you get to just exist.

Careful he pulls you closer by the chin, gentle and slow, giving you every chance to refuse his touch but you let him guide you, closer and closer until his breath brushes across your face, smelling of minty chewing gum.

Kunis lips finally brush against yours, the slightest contact, like a breeze of wind, only to lean in, properly kissing you.

The cafeteria is long empty, both of you now late to class but neither of you can bring yourself to care.

Smooch after smooch follows right after the other, he barely gives you enough time for air before he dives back in.

Thumbs caress across your cheekbones, following invisible lines.

Still, not enough.

He needs to feel you against him, your warmth against his, straight up climbing over the table instead of just going around.

Because going around meant separating himself from you even if for just a few seconds.

Tender isn't enough anymore, you've given him a taste and now he's hungry for you like a man who's been starving for years and you're the only thing that can sate him.

Lifting you with surprising ease he sits you on his thighs, straddling him, his glasses long abandoned somewhere.

Trapped in his embrace you have no choice but to relent to his cuddles, resting your head against his shoulder.

Massaging at your waist his affection gets more heated, more demanding.

Arms tighten around you, not an inch of space is allowed between.

This is the first time the nerd skips class, he has more important things to attend to, to relish in.

Next class however? You'll barely be able to cover the hickeys he's leaving on your neck.

Hands wander around, curious about what makes you squirm, pinching, squeezing subtly in case any lost soul strolls back in through those doors.

Sneaking fingers between your legs he can feel you buck against them for more friction, it's clear you're getting as riled up as him, wanting more.

He considers withholding his touch, getting payback for all the times you made him nervous but that thought extinguishes with the rock of your hips against his thigh.

Digits find their way past your waistband, dragging across already wet panties clinging to your cunt, so clearly soaked for him and him alone.

Memorizing any reaction you let slip he can't help himself but want to ruin you, figure out what has you absolutely melting for him.

The slight hitch of your breathing, the way your fingers clench around the fabric of his hoodie, all delicious to him.

Rubbing against your clit through the fabric sends a jolt through you, right down your spine as you shiver in his hold, trying to stifle any moans threatening to escape.

Pushing the bothersome cloth away he glides his index and middle finger through your folds, back and forth slowly, all the way to your entrance, circling it but never plunging in.

Instead they return all the way to your bundle of nerves, prodding, tapping, flicking even.

Repeating that same motion over and over he occasionally alternates speed until you're a shaking mess in his lap, grinding against them on your own, trying to urge him to just give you what you crave.

Why would he rush, though? No, he'll take his time with you, make you feel so good you won't even think about anyone else anymore.

Occasionally he'd dip in just the tiniest bit only to remove them quickly.

Panting heavily at this point your chest rises and falls fast as he thumbs at your poor oversensitive clit, thrusting his digits in without any sort of warning.

Immediately your walls spasm around them, you're so worked up you barely last a few slams, coming undone right on his palm as he keeps you anchored in his embrace, his body against yours making the moment even more blissful as he nurses you through your orgasm.

Boneless you lean against him, trying to compose yourself, stealing yet another peck from his mouth, you don't want to be anywhere else right now.

Kuni is the image of a cliche popular kid.

Attractive but badmouthed, even rude to fellow students and yet somehow he can't seem to get even a single moment of peace.

Despite his rotten attitude girls, boys, literally everyone flock after him, something he'd rather live without.

You however aren't one of them, you like to keep to yourself, a privilege he greatly envies.

Nobody pays attention to the class nerd who cares more about grades than making connections.

Nobody but him it seems.

Always so hard working, your nose is almost always buried in either a book or your work notes.

The day you got seated next to him is the day that completely changed, the jealous glares at the back of your head started.

People didn't like that you were so close to him, even unwillingly.

Rumors and insults came your way just because you existed around him.

Honestly, you didn't want anything to do with him if that's how you get treated just for simply talking to him.

Unfortunately for you the fact that you're not falling all over yourself for his attention but instead give him space and quiet has him interested in you.

Far beyond interested in fact, he seeks you out every time his nerves get the better of him.

More often than not you just study silently or hold small conversations, you don't try to impress him or force yourself into his life.

You're sort of his safe haven, a calming presence that doesn't annoy him like others, someone he can turn to when overwhelmed, he doesn't even realize how deep he has fallen for you, often following you around like a lost stray cat.

And that would be fine with you, it's not like you dislike him or anything, you really don't have anything against him personally, the opposite in fact.

But the more he hangs out around you the meaner the others get, you try not to let their comments get to you but it's difficult when they pick apart every single thing you might be insecure about.

So you start avoiding him the best you can, wanting the whispers and remarks to stop.

If he sees you in the halls you'll turn around and walk the other way, no matter if it's a detour or not, the door to your destination could be right there next to him and you still change course.

Suddenly the top A grades nerd is late to simple classes.

Your usual library spot is unoccupied whenever he looks for you there, you've taken to studying in other places on campus or just straight up do it at home.

It confuses and irritates him, why are you suddenly so distant? Did he do something?

Now he's even more pissed off than usual, without you he can't get rid of any negative emotions he feels throughout the day, he's become dependent on you and the comfort you provide him.

Those feelings pile up, he snaps at classmates more easily, his sharp words more hurtful than any other time, every smallest thing seems to set him off like a bomb.

Pacing around the halls, steps fast and heavy, he's about to round a corner when he hears students gossip.

He doesn't care for something stupid as rumors, never did but when your name drops he freezes in his steps.

Listening, hiding behind the wall it finally clicks in his mind why you've been going out of your way to stay clear of him.

Because people have literally been targeting you out of parasocial jealousy.

They're laughing about you behind your back, talking about how you're just a good for nothing nerd who only has her grades going for her.

About how you can act nice all you want you'll never be able to bag someone like Kuni.

Anger bubbles inside him, this is the last straw. How dare they? Acting as if they'd ever reach your level of kindness, you're the only person in this godforsaken school he can stand.

Not bothering to confront them he pushes off the wall, marching straight to the one place he'll know you'll be at the end of the day, your locker.

Entering your sight you of course still try to subtly dodge him but he's having none of it, diving through the crowd and basically running at you.

In moments he grabs your face, gentle but firm, and crashes his lips to yours for everyone to see.

The second your mouth meets his the tension he's been carrying for a week now seeps out of him.

Jaws drop, eyes widen, yours included.

When he pulls back he stares deep into your shocked pupils, almost getting lost in them.

"Stop avoiding me and show these bastards that none of them can be as good to me as you."

One hand grasps your wrist, dragging you away from the lockers towards a classroom he knows is now empty.

Locking the door behind him he immediately pulls you into a tight embrace, his head burying in the side of your neck.

"Don't ever do that again..." His shaky breath hits your skin.

"I can't function without you anymore." A soft admission, so quiet you almost missed it.

He's never been this close to you, he can feel every little thing.

Your warmth, your fast puffs of air, your fast beating heart, all against him.

Kuni can't contain himself, giving in to the urge and nipping at your shoulder.

If he has to mark you up for these idiots to finally make it clear that you're his and he's yours then he will.

In what feels like seconds hickeys bloom on your skin, he pushes you backwards until you hit a desk, falling onto it.

Space isn't allowed between you both, he immediately follows after, body against yours.

Feral need courses through his veins, need for you and you only.

Spending weeks bottling up his emotions has left him incredibly riled up.

Curious and hungry he tugs at your clothes, looking at you, almost begging for any sign of approval.

Seeing you nod he removes them in the blink of an eye, greedily drinking in the image of you bare below him.

Your cheeks flush with heat at being so suddenly exposed and he can't deny he feels a great satisfaction at the fact it's because of him.

No one else made you this flustered, it was him. Only him.

Without warning he flips you over, your chest and stomach now against the cold surface, his own pressing against your back.

His bulge is now obvious against your ass, cock hard from touching you alone, pocking, probing before escaping the prison that's his shorts.

For a moment he hesitates, tip pressed teasingly against your already wet cunt, eyeing the door suspiciously while chewing on his lower lip.

Any patience he has goes out the window the moment you move yourself back against him, trying to encourage him to just hurry up.

Careful, oh so gentle, he sheaths himself inside your cunt, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind in an attempt to hold himself back for your sake.

Hiding his face in your hair he bottoms out, letting you adjust before carefully removing himself until only the head is left, dragging across your sensitive inner walls.

Over and over he repeats that same motion, pace slow, unhurried.

Hands find their way from around you to your tits, squeezing, tugging at your nipples.

Squirming under his weight you try to make him go faster but he's greatly enjoying himself, even pausing his thrusts occasionally just to hear you whine.

Only when you clench around him he finally picks up speed, a shiver running down his spine.

A groan leaves him, any self control shattering at the realization how much he's ruining the schools nerd on his dick.

Faster and faster, harder and harder he ruts into you again and again, basically rocking you into the desk deliciously.

His hips meet yours, lewd noises filling the empty classroom, sounds of pleasure bouncing off the walls.

He doesn't care if anyone hears either of you anymore, let them listen to how good he makes you feel, how they'll never get a piece of this.

Scrambling for something to hold onto your nails dig into the wooden surface, leaving scratches.

Your back arches so pretty, you can't get enough of how he hits so deep every time, the perfect angle to make you see stars.

The symphony of moans leaving your throat gets louder and louder the closer you get, for once you don't care about appearances, about appearing put together.

Without warning at all your orgasm crashes over you leaving your entire form twitching and quivering, if it wasn't for the table holding you up you would have collapsed on the ground from the intense bliss coursing through every inch of your being.

You don't even realize Kuni followed close behind, spilling his seed inside your tight pussy, panting against your nape as he stills.

In this moment, this empty four walls it's just the two of you, and maybe no one else's words or insults matter.

His special, quiet spot. The place he always fled to when akademiya life got to much, when the students got too annoying or pushy.

It was supposed to be secret, unreachable for most at the top of Sumeru city's high tree and yet here he is, staring at someone's form already occupying the very branch he usually sits on.

Features twist into obvious displeasure, a frown gracing his lips, eyes sharp as they glared at you.

"That's my spot. Move."

You turn to look at him, not moving an inch from your position, leaning back against the hard tree bark.

"I don't see your name anywhere near it."

Crossing your arms and swinging one leg over the other you make yourself cozy, closing your lids shut, straight up ignoring him.

Wanderers eyebrow twitches in irritation, how dare you?

He already had enough to tackle today and now he also has to deal with an annoying little pest.

If you weren't so high up he'd just push you off but he isn't looking to add more murder to his charges.

Out of spite he flies higher up, sitting himself on another of the trees many limbs, even if it's less comfortable.

Even from above you feel his death stare drill into your skull, when you look up you're met with indigo irises shooting imaginary poison at you.

And what do you do?

Stick your tongue out at him, not intimidated by the slightest by his scowl.

In fact you glare right back at him, unimpressed.

You'd drop dead if looks could kill.

Neither of you back down, staying in place until the sun sets in the distance, stubbornly refusing to leave.

The tension between the two of you is thick, even if no word is spoken.

You eventually climb down when darkness falls but now it's too late for him to even get any satisfaction out of staying longer, exhaustion creeping into his joints and mind.

Wanderer hoped that this was the end of it, a chance encounter but of course fate has never been kind to him.

Almost every day he'd see you, not even because you took his spot again but because you somehow keep running into each other.

Sethos dragged him to a student gathering? You're there.

Studying in the house of Daena? Sitting across from him is you.

Class? Placed next to you.

It's driving him insane, completely oblivious to how you're basically a mirror to his own behavior, as grumpy and antisocial as him, cheeky even.

The same habits, same patterns fly right over his head, too busy arguing with you about every smallest thing, mocking each other.

A single comment by the traveler finally makes him realize, a statement meant to be unimportant, a slight tease after they saw you two once again quarrel.

"You two are really alike."

Freezing on the spot he tries to deny it, to brush it off but the horror spreading across his face gives him away, he never considered the fact he's this annoyed about you because he's getting a taste of his own behavior.

From then on he looks at you from a different perspective, analyzing you even.

You hate loudmouthed social interactions, just like him.

You hate people prying into your personal matters without respect for your refusal, just like him.

And you hate holding pointless conversation for the sake of it, just like him.

He wants to kick himself for being so stupid, so blind until it was spelled out for him.

Whenever he sees you now he doesn't provoke you anymore, at least not on purpose.

No, he instead just silently observes you, noting little habits that he unfortunately finds he also has.

His constant gaze on you just pisses you off more though, it feels like he's constantly around you, watching but quiet.

Without the constant fighting it feels like something is missing, something you've grown used to over the span of weeks, an outlet for your frustrations so you don't snap at some poor classmate that might not be able to take your harsh words.

But also someone who was just a little bit like you, who understands.

Fed up with the quiet treatment you corner him at the very spot you two interacted for the first time.

"Are you scared of me or something?"

Hopping onto the branch next to his current lounging place you stare at him, getting directly to the point, no small talk, not even a greeting.

Scoffing he turns his attention to you fully.

"Don't tell me you miss my beautiful voice already." His voice is teasing but lacks its usual bite and insults.

"Shut your mouth."

"I would but you seem to have a problem with me doing so."

Almost snickering at the angry expression on your face he can't help but take a close look at you, not blinded by annoyance or negative emotions for once.

Here you are, someone who goes above and beyond to avoid talking to anyone, actively seeking him out because his presence has become a grounding permanence in your life.

It makes him wonder what happened in your life for you to become this shut off.

Were you always like this? Or did something in your past cause this?

Is it mistrust? Or just stubbornness?

Several possibilities float through his mind, maybe something traumatic happened? Or maybe you're just spoiled?

Either way, you got one hell of a backbone, something most others lack, it's admirable even to him.

"Stop trying to figure me out." Brought back to the land of the living his thoughts abruptly shut up when your sharp demand hits his ears, it's that exact second he realizes he won't be able to escape you or the peace you unexplainably wash over him.

He feels pathetic over the fact that he's gotten attached to you, you're not afraid to voice your disdain or opinion no matter what and that confidence alone has him spiraling, falling for you without even knowing.

What does your laugh sound like? What makes you happy, what makes you smile? What do you like to do in your free time?

All these questions he wants answers to, that started plaguing his mind way before today, yet he's still denying any forming love for you.

In this very moment however? No thinking about emotions, those will come crashing down when he's alone or someone points it out for him (again).

Right now he'll just relish in the last few strays of light with you, a person so like minded but yet different.

Fate has a funny way of guiding him, making him go from hating your guts to appreciating the calm you bring over him.