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#i also twirl things in the kitchen

dracanthropic · 5 months

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While Christian Kane is an exceptional Thing Twirler (TM) it should be noted that, at least as a martial artist, it is very difficult to NOT twirl objects.

#it is almost impossible not to twirl anything I take out of ny gear bag #i also twirl things in the kitchen #as long as they're not covered in food lol #Christian Kane #twirl #martial arts

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nivisdreaming · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 1: Size - Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Size play, predator/prey dynamics, established relationship, piv penetration, no protection, creampie, teasing, praise, sub!reader, dom!miguel, subspace implied, reader gets fucked so good she passes out, aftercare is included

Notes: first time writing for miguel? pog? also welcome to kinktober everyone its gonna get freaky >:)

Miguel is constantly pinning you to things. He’s not even doing it on purpose necessarily, he’s just so big.

It’s not his fault that he’ll reach for something over your head, or try to scooch behind you in the kitchen or hallway, and all of a sudden you’re pushed against the nearest surface being towered over by a 6’9 spider hybrid.

What is his fault is how he abuses it once he realizes how flustered it makes it. He’s always been very perceptive when it came to you. He knows how your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, how your breath hitches, and your thighs squeeze together in need, right as you look upward to view him caging you in. It always gives a sickening ego boost. You’re just so small compared to him. Breakable. Fragile. Delicate. Delicious.

He starts subtlety. Sneaking behind you when you’re making morning coffee, hovering behind when you work at your desk, and of course, getting you down on your knees for him whenever possible. It doesn’t take long to escalate however, coming to a head one night before he is set to attend a Spider Society gala with you as his plus one.

You slide the dress up your body carefully, allowing the snug material to cling tight around your breasts in its strapless style. You straighten it out and peered over your shoulder to call, “Miggy? Can you come zip me up please?”

You adjust your hair and makeup in the mirror as you listen to his lumbering footsteps, smiling when he appears behind you, his eyes tracing over your curves in the reflection. He takes a step closer, and the way his shoulders dwarf yours causes your breath to hitch. He slides a hand up your side and another comes to rest on the back of your neck. You open your mouth to make the request again, but the air is knocked out of you as he pushes forwards, pinning you firmly to the floor-length mirror without looking away from his scanning of your body.

“Sweet, tiny little thing. You’re so easy to push around, aren’t you, mi princesa?” He pushes his hips forward to rut against your ass, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from the combo of his growling tone and his hot erection against you. He leans down to nip at your earlobe before muttering, “I know you love how much bigger than you I am. Does it make you feel all funny? To know how I could wreck you, how I could turn you into my cowering prey, stuck underneath me? It makes your brain all fuzzy. And it makes your cunt dripping wet.” He uses the hand on your side to tug up the dress, exposing your bare ass. He scoffs at the lewdity and gives one of the round globes a spank, forcing a whimper from you.

You watch him in the mirror as he blocks you in on all sides while running a finger down to your folds, teasingly sliding it against your entrance before bringing it to his month to suck off the slick. He hums in approval and moves his arms to sit on either side of your head, leaving you boxed in but free to move against him.

“Spin around. I wanna look you in the eyes while I stretch your tight pussy to it’s breaking point, and if I see you look away I will make sure neither of us sees this event tonight.”

You gulp and slowly twirl around, having to crane your neck to meet his eyes even as he leers down at you. He places a hand over yours and coaxes it to the front of his crotch, using you to squeeze at his bulge before instructing you to undo the zipper and pull him out. You obey without hesitation, allowing him to tug down the top of your dress and reveal your tits as you do. His cock springs eagerly from its confines, precum already leaking from the tip that has flushed a deep purple.

Instinctively you try to drop down to your knees, your clouded headspace demanding that you needed to gag around him as soon as possible, but he manhandles you back up and off the ground with your wrists above your head and legs wrapped around his slutty waist. The rough force has you moaning softly, eyes already glazed over despite the lack of direct stimulation. It makes him chuckle darkly.

He lines his tip up with your entrance and gives no warning before sliding in with a single thrust. The slick dripping down your thighs is plenty of lube as he begins an earth-shattering pace, hips slamming into yours and tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. He leans down and vigorously sucks and bites around your breasts, littering them with hickeys while you cry on his cock, sobbing hysterically from pleasure.

He pulls away from his marking to take in your appearance, at the fat globs of tears gathering on your cheeks make his hips stutter and his abs tense. “God, princesa, feels so good to corrupt you like this,” he switches his grip from your hip to your tummy so he can thumb at your clit, “So ruined for me. Molded this tiny cunt to my dick, so it’s perfect just for me.” You whimper at the praise, jaw dropping open and tongue lolling out as he slides against the spongey spot inside you and rubs fast circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, my good little girl. So delicate, just gotta take care of you by breaking that poor little brain every once and awhile. Go ahead sweet thing, cum on me, show me how good little prey thank the predators.” His words send you spinning into the abyss, everything in your body pulling taunt and then snapping back as your vision goes from white to black and suddenly you’re so light and floaty that you can’t feel the way you soak Miguel’s cock, nor the way he cums deep inside you as your walls milk him dry. You don’t feel him carry you to the bed, or feel him drag the damp cloth between your legs. You don’t feel how he kisses both your cheeks in hopes of getting your eyes to flutter open, to no avail.

What you do feel is when he pulls your trembling body against his broad chest, rubbing up and down on your arms softly and whispering to you. “Mi amor, you gotta come back to me now. Open up those eyes for me. You did so good for me baby, surprised you made it as long as you did without passing out on my dick. C’mon, wakey wakey corazón.” His words are encouragement enough to float back downwards, settling into his touch until you have enough strength to pull your eyelids open and peer up at him with large doe-eyes. “Aw, welcome back little girl. Te amo.”

#kinktober 2023 #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #dom!miguel o'hara #sub!reader

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tteokdoroki · 8 months

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✩ — ANGELS SHOULD NEVER FALL THIS FAR FROM HEAVEN ⁀➷ everyone believes satoru gojo to be an angel. your mother considers her new son to be a blessing, even if he’s bratty and spoiled. but never once did think teasing him would make your step-brother to act on such ungodly desires. (3.2K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, pwp, college!au, religious imagery, step-cest, groping, fingering, ‘just the tip’, exhibitionism, clothed sex, male masturbation, slight degradation, bratty behaviour, use of oneesan, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, cumplay, fem!reader, step-bro!gojo.

things to note. lol sorry it’s been a while !! trying a new layout also posting this into the void while i work on kinktober eee !! idk i’ve had a rough time trying to write a one shot so im glad i could make this !! special thanks to @kishibye for beta reading. i hope you enjoy this bestie boos ily <3

“what are you doing?” there’s a sharp edge to the tone of satoru’s voice, splayed across his tongue that holds back a stream of curses. his eyes speak fury in their piping hot flames of wild cerulean as he watches you enter the kitchen and shoot straight for the snack cupboard.

you can feel the weight of his gaze as it crosses the slopes of your body, from the back of your head, twirling around your curves before ultimately falling to your behind.

playing innocent, you stand on your tip toes and grasp at the bag of chips you’re after. the ones on the top shelf. “whaddya mean ‘what am i doing’?”

“what do you mean what do i mean?” your step brother retorts childishly, as if you’re two kids fighting on a playground at recess.

you click your tongue and pay him no mind. “don’t be such a baby, satoru,” you wave a hand in his face in a haughty manner. “use your big boy words.”

gojo suppresses a whine when your shirt rides up and reveals your skin to gorgeous eyes. he lets it gargle around in his throat like the sting of cool mouthwash, before striding over to you — grabbing the chips and slamming the cupboard shut so hard it makes you jump.

“you can’t just walk around dressed like that.”

he gestures to your get up — the clothes you wear when nobody’s home. your sapphire silly and scallop-edged panties, your old and ratty band t-shirt haphazardly thrown on.

“why?” you turn around to come face to face with your younger (step)brother, noting the way his stare hones in on the plush meat of your thighs as you squish them together — leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“my friends are coming over.”

“so, what’s the big deal?” there’s something about pissing gojo off that entertains you. he’s a brat by all means, raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and daddy’s dollars tucked into his pockets. whenever there’s a problem, all it takes is a classic ‘toru temper tantrum and your parents are on the scene to fix things for him. he’ll never know the hardships of being raised by a single mother, always having a little less than most. he walks around in his own little bubble of riches - and you can’t help but want to pop it. “shoko thinks i’m cool and geto will probably jack off to me later. it’s whatever.”

“but it’s not whatever,” you can practically see satoru fight the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child — even going as far to have the audacity to pout down at you. “you’ll just embarrass me. so do us both a favour and put some clothes on, nobody wants to see all that ‘round the house.”

“do you own this house?”

“no but i-“

“but your daddy does. and daddy isn’t here! so shut up, satoru!” jabbing a finger into his chest, you smile up at your not-so-little little step-brother, evilly. “i make the rules.”

“oh fuck you. all you do is mooch off of my dad, princess. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your mom whoring it out for him.” he sneers in response, upper lip curling into a distasteful snarl like a dog with a stranger on its territory. his words, though cruel and foul, are far from the truth and you know that he doesn’t mean it. satoru is a brat that throws acid laced words at anyone who gets in his way — yourself included.

even though you agree that your parents tied the knot all too fast — barely giving the two of you a chance to get to know each other as siblings. they were in love and far too happy for the rivalry between their children to get in the way. you know that the fact pissed gojo off to no end, he hated how your mother doted on him and how he’d always needed to fight for his father’s attention. now it certainly wasn’t ever going to be on him. but the two women in his house instead.

your poor, spoiled, baby brother.

however, you won’t let his words and how he projects onto you, hurt you. “whoops! looks like i dropped my will to give a fuck!” whilst pretending to drop your snack, you bend over in front of him to reveal inches of beauty marked and blemished flesh, drawing hungry seafoam eyes to the bounce of showing your ass — testing your little step brother. “i don’t care satoru, i’m older.”

satoru’s mouth snaps shut after moments of wordlessly opening and closing. he stands frozen on the spot, as if he can’t seem to process the very idea that his older step-sister had just flashed him to prove a point.

but just when you think you’ve won, the silver-haired brat is pressed right up behind you, forcing your body to bend over the cold marble counter that instantly has your nipples hardening against the icy surface. heat rushes to your face, blossoming just under the barrier of your skin as his hard on nestles it’s way between your ass cheeks — a symphony of your surprised squeaks echoing through the modern kitchen.

“hey! what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

instead of responding, he pushes your head down against the counter — circling his increasingly wet erection against your behind, manhandling the globes of flesh back onto his dick. “not so fun, is it.” he coos down at you, voice chilly and full of condescending highs and lows. “yanno…you’re awfully mean to me.”

saliva pools on your tongue, weighing it down in your mouth like a paperweight as satoru’s girth slips downwards, seedy tip brushing over panty clad and your swollen clit. “aren’t oneesan’s s’pposed to take care of their baby brothers?” his breath is hot and ragged against your ear as gojo haunches over you, caging you in like a wild animal as you thrash and writhe under his touch.

you can’t even bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame when gojo’s left hand dances between your tangled limbs and slips past the frilly band of your underwear — ghosting over the throbbing pearl laying between your sticky pussy lips. “step…step brother!” you whinge at the tingle of pleasure that blooms in your lower tummy and spreads like angel wings throughout the rest of your body.

satoru takes turns playing with you, alternating between his nimble, skilled fingers and his seedy girth that smears precum all over your inner thighs and panties. “like that even fuckin’ matters.” he laughs, twisted and proud. “could you get off like this? yeah i think you could…. you’re already so wet. just from grinding on your little brother’s cock.”

your legs grow shaky at his ministrations, beads of your juices oozing from your empty entrance to stain the man’s sweats, slicking him up as if it’s a signature of your claim. “‘toru!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into the depth of your skull. “m-more.”

“look at how fast you fold for me…” he pushes up your shirt so that the fabric pools around your waist — pawing at the fat there, massaging your hips softly as if he isn’t violently, cruelly rubbing one out on your achey pussy. “i don’t think you’re in a position to ask me for more, big sis.” satoru taunts, a heavy hand coming down on the bare skin of your ass, leaving a raw handprint in its place. “such a nasty slut, i bet you’d let me fuck you like this too. out in the open, where anyone could catch us.”

you yelp in surprise at the feeling of gojo’s messy, cream coated cockhead nudge at your entrance from over your panties — a slender finger pulling the soaked material to the side so he can fuck you with his tip. “oh, i bet you’d like that, huh baby?” he continues to purr, jutting his hips forward ever so slightly — feeding your greedy cunt a few more inches of him. satoru’s barely sheathed inside of you, but you’re already stretching deliciously around what he’s given you. he’s fat, girthy just as he is long and his mushroom tip drags along sensitive spots in your walls you didn’t even know you had.

he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.

you sob, wail and writhe on your little step brother’s cock, nails clawing at the marble counter while your breath escapes you. “satoru, please fuck me. ‘m sorry… sorry—!”

“shh big sis, you’re being too loud,” he cups a hand over your mouth. gojo eases two digits past your plump lips to pacify your cries as he shallowly pumps his wet cock into the heat of your sex — gritting his teeth to hide his own moans. “we…fuck, you’re tight as shit… we wouldn’t want my friends to know that you dress like a slut for my cock, would we?”

you shake your head with a muffled moan, suckling the taste of yourself from gojo’s fingers and breathing heavily through your nose. “no, we wouldn’t. that’s right. good girl, oh shit.”

satoru laughs, a little cocky and a little drawn out in a long, whiny whimper over the wet slap of the backs of your thighs in the front of his own. but he trembles from behind you, like his legs are about to give out every time your creamy cunt sucks a little more of him in. it’s a miracle he’s managed to hold you both up.

guilt wracks your body intertwining with the red blood cells coursing through your veins and carrying limited oxygen to your brain — your head practically empty at how your little brother ruins you on half of his fat cock. this isn’t right, this is completely wrong and yet you feel yourself coming undone — weak in the knees and shaky in your lips, the dam in your lower tummy threatening to burst at any second and flood the room in an erotic river of your arousal.

pushing your head off of the counter, you lean into satoru, throwing your ass back onto him in rhythm with the harshness of his thrusts. everything is hotter, heavier and you can’t even think about how much of a bad step-sister you are when he’s dominating your body like this. the silky locks of satoru’s silvering hair press against your shoulder and he wraps a fist in the fabric of your shirt to pull you further back onto his cock.

“‘m gonna c-cum, oh god!” you squeal, flinching as your juices crudely slap against the kitchen floor. “i’m so close!”

he pants into your ear like a desperate dog, fully wrapping himself around you and trapping you against the counter so that you have nowhere to go except towards your high. “yeah?” gojo breathes heatedly, temperate breath cascading over the back of your neck and only adding fuel to your fire of desire. “i can tell, you get like this. all needy ‘n cute when you’re about to cum.”

his words have you clenching around his bulbous tip every time it pushes up against the pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had — your arousal catching in the pretty blue veins that spiral around the length of gojo’s shaft. “you don’t think i can’t hear you, big sis? late at night when you think everyone’s sleepin’….” his whistle tone moans are quickly replaced by deep growls and grunts that only just manage to escape from between the gritted rows of your step brother’s pearly whites. “when you stuff those tiny fingers into that tight little hole and—“

he reaches down between your mess of slick soaked limbs to land a harsh smack against your quivering pussy, sending the foamy ring of white where your bodies join flying about the place. “—and make yourself cum to the thought of me?” he continues, breathing ragged and laughing at you again when you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“s-satoru!”

he soothes you with quick circles over your swollen clit and kisses to your shoulder — being careful not to leave marks. “oh did that hurt, baby? am i the mean one now?” licking a stripe up the side of your face and tasting the sweat on your glistening skin, satoru rambles on — filling you up with praises and copious amounts of precum. “you know i—fuck— you know i love you. my precious big sister, so fucking good to me. let’s make you cum, yeah?”

you’re allowed to rut back on him for a little longer, since he loves the sound of his name whirling around messily on your tongue, all high-pitched and sugar coated for him. if only you knew how badly he’d wanted you, how pissed he was when his father went on to marry your mother. gojo has wanted you since the very first night you met — his every waking thought has been carefully carved to lust after you, think of your eyes, your smile, your lips. fuck, everything about you has satoru under some kind of spell.

“r-right there. right there, t-there!” you chant the words like they’re the a prayer, as if they’re the only ones you know, allowing satoru to throw you through the loop of pleasure until you’re too far gone to stay on the ride.

angling his slender hips upwards, his cockhead bares down on the gummy centre of your g-spot just has he buries himself inside of you — right up to the hilt. “h-here? this where you want me, big sis?” gojo’s amused gasp turns into a coo when you let out a meek hum of agreement, babling wild nonsense and drooling into the counter you’re pressed against. “mmhm, got you creamin’ around me already. so cute, so good when you listen. when you’re a good t’me, oneesan.”

the honorific alone has your mouth running dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. though the syrupy pap, pap, pap of your sex says otherwise. it tells the truth of your sin.

and the thing that you don’t know about satoru is that he loves to give, feeding pieces of himself to you as he fucks you wild in the middle of your family kitchen. he wants you to have all of him, every corner and inch of his body just like he dreamed about. he knows it’s forbidden and that it’s wrong, but he can’t help but relish in the feeling of your pretty pussy sucking him in so selfishly, greedily clamping down on his thick base.

he would give you anything. anything you wanted and asked for if you’d let him. his hands slip from your waist to intertwine with yours splayed out on the cool marble surface, using his last spurts of energy to drag you towards your orgasm and the deep depths of sinner’s paradise.

“fuck me, fuck me, baby.” he growls possessively against the shell of your ear. “let go for me. lemme see how much you love your little brother—“

the crescendo of your pleasure is at an all time high, about to come crashing down on you like a tonne of heavy bricks.

that is until the door bell rings, accompanied by the sound of geto’s voice from the outside of the house. “yoo, satoru! open up!”

you’d think that you’d have been good enough for your little step-brother to keep going — to push onwards and let you cream all over him before he went to attend to his silly little friends. but he flips the script, pulling out of you just as you teeter over the edge to ruin your orgasm.

“no, no, please!” you sniffle, teary eyed with dissatisfaction sitting in your lower belly — the need to cum still there but the feeling of emptiness within your dripping walls taking over. “satoru…” you whine.

when you look behind you, he’s too busy finishing himself off — his black shirt between his teeth, sweats hanging low on his waist while gojo palms his hard and heavy cock as he pleases.

it’s coated in your arousal, shining under the artificial lighting in the kitchen and you watch with a pout as gojo jacks himself off to the view of your ruined cunt. he thumbs the seedy slit at the centre of his bright red tip, hissing through the sensitivity. he’s a picture perfect vision, appearing as an angel before your very eyes. a mop of halo white hair flop backwards with satoru’s head, rich sapphire eyes locked behind fluttering lashes that glisten with pearls of pleasure filled tears.

you know not to be mistaken, you know that satoru is more like an incubus than the heavenly being he presents as. the parts of your brain with better judgement see him as the sinner who made you fall from grace, committing such a heinous act. the desperate side of you with a brain full of lust and smoke screens sees your step-brother as a god who controls all of your desires.

you think you prefer that side of you more.

meanwhile, a drop of sweat runs a track down the length of satoru’s neck, catching on the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his euphoric laments. you find yourself jealous that his own fingers are wrapped around his sloppy dick instead of drawing shapes against your aching clit. you envy how good it must feel for satoru when he finally cums. ropes of thick white sling around his knuckles, much paler in contrast to his pearlescent skin tone.

a deep, gravelly moan erupts from his hot mouth like lava, accompanied by curses and the stuttered syllables you recognise to be your name while he finishes himself off. gojo jerks his sensitive cock over your ass to paint you with the last spurts of his release. it’s a claim on you as your step-brother, a way in which he can show you that he always gets his way no matter what.

whilst still recovering, your step-brother drags a slender finger through the puddle of cum he’s left on you, and drags it down to your stretched little hole before pushing it against your overstimulated clit. “hmm, so pretty.” gojo grins, slow and sly, when you twitch and attempt to jolt away from him. then unexpectedly, he lands a hard smack against your bum — revelling in your sweet cry of pleasure, impatience and pain. “go put somethin’ on, will ya, sis? my friends are still waiting outside.”

“i…i hate you.” you whimper shakily, brain frazzled from the situation.

satoru might be a spoiled brat, but he’s not mean enough to leave you here a shaky, dripping mess so he helps you to your feet — tenderly fixing the hem of your shirt and panties back into place (failing to wipe his cum off of you beforehand). you’re still pouting from your ruined orgasm once he’s done, and he nudges the underside of your chin with a singular knuckle.

“don’t worry big sis, i’ll come take care of you later. maybe i’ll even let geto watch since you love prancing around half naked for him too.” he teases, squishing your cheeks as you try to swat at him. “and you don’t hate me, you love me and this cock. clearly.” gojo sings and sends a cheeky wink in your before prancing away to open the door for his friends.

he pulls his pants up as he goes, not minding the wet patch you’ve left on him.

whereas, you scurry up to your room before they can greet you and gojo tells them that you’re feeling unwell.

that day, you learn two valuable lessons:

one — never mess with a spoiled brat, it’ll never end well for you and gojo will always get what he wants no matter who pays the bills.

two — geto really does like to jerk off to you, even more so when he watches his best friend punishes his older step-sister with enough orgasms to make her forget why she was in trouble with satoru in the first place.

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slut4thebroken · 5 months

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Cheerleader

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | stepdad!Cillian Murphy x reader

Summary | You finally got on the cheer team and are excited to show your stepdad the uniform, but he has some concerns.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, mildly dubious consent, large age gap (unspecified), wedgie lmaoo, dry humping, grinding, groping, spanking, praise, daddy but not the kink?, technically incest??, ionno what else lol

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | I honestly don’t even know what this is… like I can’t tell if I hate it or not💀😭 Also for legal reasons… we’ll say reader is 18 and in college 👀 (just a reminder though: this is fiction. Treat it as such lol)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Hey, love, how was school?” He called out from the kitchen and you all but bounced into the room.

“I got on the cheer team!” You said excitedly.

“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you, baby.” You could tell his tone was genuine, but he was still focused on whatever food he was preparing.

“Turn around, daddy.” You giggled and he set down the knife before turning to face you. His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock as he took in your clothes— your body. “Do you like it?” You asked, twirling around for him to see the whole thing.

“I-it’s… a little short, don’t you think?” He choked out.

“Well duh. How else would I do this?” You showed him a kick and his gaze snapped down to where the skirt rode up, exposing your matching shorts.

“You have to wear this for everything?”

“We have a long sleeved top for the winter time, but yeah.” You smiled. “What do you think?”

“C’mere, love.” You walked over and stood in front of him, waiting. He started on your waist, then dragged his hands down to your hips, his thumbs rubbing over the exposed skin of your tummy. He suddenly got down on his knees and moved his hands to just above your ankles. He snaked them up your legs, teasing you, until they reached the bottom of the skirt.

“Daddy?”

“Shh… I'm just getting a closer look, baby.” Duh. What else would he be doing? You thought with an internal chuckle. His hands moved up to your hips, over the skirt, then snaked behind you.

“Daddy!” You gasped when he squeezed your ass and pulled you closer.

“Turn around.” He ordered, moving his hands to your hips to start turning you. Once you were facing away from him, he was groping you again and you bit your lip to contain any sounds. “Bend over.” He said suddenly.

“W-what?”

“Bend over. You can lean on the counter if that’s easier.” Hesitantly, you obeyed. You leaned down and placed your hands on the counter. “Further.” With a blush of embarrassment, you lowered yourself so that your arms were crossed, resting on the counter, holding up your chin.

“This is what counts as school appropriate nowadays?” He scoffed, making your blush darken. “The skirt doesn’t cover anything.”

“T-that’s what the shorts are for.” You said quietly.

“I’d hardly call these shorts.” He was groping your ass again now, this time under the skirt. “They’re so fucking tight.” He gruffed. “I can see the outline of your pussy.” His thumb brushed over your mound, making you shoot up.

“Daddy!”

“Down.” You froze when you heard his tone, then slowly lowered yourself back down. He reached under the fabric where your ass met your thighs, then took it in a firm grip and roughly pulled up, making you gasp and grab onto the counter. His hands settled on your bare ass and you couldn't help the way you started squirming. The fabric of your shorts and underwear being pressed so tightly against you was almost painful, but it made you needy too.

“Every little immature boy at your school is going to want a piece of this.” He removed a hand, but brought it back down quickly, with a sharp smack. You jolted and gasped out a moan, caught off guard by the sudden pain. “I can’t let that happen, baby. But I‘m not gonna make you quit, not when I know how happy it makes you.” Another slap. “I’m gonna make sure you won’t let any boys come near this pussy.” Another slap, then his thumb was brushing over your mound again.

“Please,” You whined, but it cut off into a choked moan when he spanked you again, twice in quick succession. “Won’t let any boys come near it!” You tried, gripping onto the counter when he spanked you again, but he wasn’t listening. He ignored you and continued toying with your ass, sometimes squeezing it, but mostly spanking it. “It hurts, daddy.” You whimpered.

“Does it, baby?” He asked innocently, making you pout.

“Yeah…”

“You can handle a little more.” He decided, then continued until your ass felt hot and your clit was throbbing and your eyes were watering. “Such a good girl.” He mumbled, rubbing soothing hands over the burning skin, but his touch was just making it hurt more. “I’m sorry, baby. You know I hate when I have to punish you, but you need to learn.”

“I know..” You whimpered, then his hands were gone. You heard him standing up and he grabbed your hips to push you closer to the counter. “Are you done?” You asked quietly.

“Not yet, love.” You dreaded having to endure even more spanking. When you heard his belt, you stiffened. Next was his zipper, then fabric was rustling a little and he reached for your shorts again. He looped one hand through both of the leg holes, making the pressure on your clit get a little harder.

When he suddenly lifted you up, a pained cry left you as your shorts and underwear were forced deeper between your ass and even between your folds. Your feet were barely touching the ground and you reached back to try and push him away, but he just landed another slap on your ass.

“Stay still.”

“I-it hurts, daddy… I can’t.” You whimpered. In response, he adjusted his grip and lifted you up even more, making you cry out. The very tips of your shoes were barely still on the floor and the pressure on your clit was becoming more of a painful pleasure now. Emphasis on ‘painful.’

When you felt him press up against you, your breath caught in your throat. He still had his underwear on, but he was grinding his bulge on your pussy because of how high he was holding you. His free hand grabbed your hips to stabilize you as he sped up.

“Daddy…” You whined. Everything was so contradictory. Your ass was still burning, as was your clit from the prolonged wedgie, but it also felt good as he rubbed his bulge against it. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to stop or do more.

“I know, baby… Just a little longer.” He said quietly. Letting out a low groan, he continued humping you, his breathing getting more and more ragged. He moved the hand on your hip to help hold your shorts and underwear, then took a couple steps back. When you weren’t being supported by the counter anymore, you fell forward with a scream, your whole body weight now being held by the wedgie. You grabbed onto the counter to lift yourself up a little so your face wasn’t inches above the floor, but you couldn’t get close enough to put any weight on it.

“Daddy! Daddy— wait!” You cried out, making him moan at your struggling. His hips got more desperate, rutting against your clothed heat, making you more desperate as well.

You tried squirming, but he just lifted you even higher. Your feet kicked around as you tried hopelessly to find some footing, now being completely suspended.

“Please! It hurts!” You whined loudly, but he ignored you. “Please, daddy! I can’t take it anymore..”

“Shh… Yes you can, love. I’m almost done.” He cursed under his breath and his movements sped up even more. “Such a good fucking pussy.” He groaned under his breath.

“Who’s allowed to touch you here?” He asked, clearer now.

“You!”

“Who owns this fucking cunt?”

“Y-you..” You whimpered, hoping if you just agreed to everything that he’d give you mercy.

“That’s right, baby. Your body is only for daddy to touch, okay?” You were nodding before he could even finish.

“Yes— yes.. Please let me down now.” You rushed out. You’ve learned your lesson by now— you won’t let anyone come near you. His hips stopped, but he didn’t drop you. Instead, he stayed pressed up against your cunt, then started bouncing you up and down by your shorts and underwear, stimulating his cock like that instead. Each time you went down, a sharp cry was forced out of you. You could feel tears in your eyes again as the pain got worse and worse. He started rutting into you, but still moved you up and down, never even faltering.

“Please!” You cried. He moved you forward again so you were bent over the counter. Your feet still weren’t touching the floor, but at least some of the weight was taken off.

“Fuck—” He choked out, panting and moaning quietly. He took a step back and removed one hand, making you drop a little so that your toes were now on the floor. Then his moans were getting louder and louder until you felt heat spurting all over your ass. You whined and squirmed as your whole face heated up from humiliation. He cursed under his breath and slowly lowered you, releasing your shorts. He panted for another moment, then tugged your stretched out shorts and underwear back down, over his come. You felt completely and utterly used. But you also felt completely and utterly desperate for more.

“That’s better. Covers more of your ass now.” He said through a breath, giving you one last spank.

I fucking hate the title lol so give me ideas for a new one💀🙏🏻

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend

#cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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captainfern · 10 months

Text

this is a request but i accidentally deleted it 😭

“hi babes. ur work is amazing but im sure you know this. im also sure you have lots of requests so please take your time getting to this one. but I was wonderingggg if you could do one where price is the friend of the readers dad? they've been hooking up in secret for a while but at a little house party, they sneak into someplace private and do the deed. ive seen so many other ffs about this with other characters so ikkkk price would fit this. thank you again <33”

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Marigold

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price is your dads best friend. he asks you to meet him upstairs during a party. you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 4.4k • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, established relationship? kinda?, unprotected piv, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], fingering, recording [consensual], oral [f!receiving], praise, strong language

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You fidgeted with the hem of your dress, looking at yourself in the mirror. You ran your hands down the fabric, smoothing the wrinkles, smiling at yourself. You looked fucking good.

Downstairs, a big neighbourhood party was in full swing— something organised by your father. It was a comfortable get together to unwind before the summer holidays, complete with all of your neighbours from down the street, and even across the block.

The dress you were wearing was new. You brought it recently, actually. You liked to convince yourself you got it because you were treating yourself, but in reality, it may or may not have been a 2am online purchase after a considerable emotional breakdown. But hey, same thing, right?

It was shorter than you thought, mid-thigh, if that. The colour was pretty too, your favourite. It complimented the complexion of your skin, accentuating your figure, showing off a significant amount of leg. You smiled at yourself, doing a quick twirl.

Hot as fuck.

The party was bustling. You had arrived home late, apologising profusely to your dad before rushing upstairs to get ready. So, over the gentle thrum of the music, you weren't surprised to hear your dad call your name, hurrying you to come and greet the guests.

You bounded down the stairs, dress fluttering against your thighs, and made your way into the kitchen. You tried not to feel awkward when copious pairs of eyes turned to look at you as you shuffled towards your dad. He put an arm around your shoulders, holding you to his side for a moment, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

"There you are. Come say hi to everyone."

You did. Humming along to the music as you went, you individually greeted each of the guests. You plastered on your best people-pleasing smile, responding cheerily to the same fifty fucking questions everyone asked you.

How are you? How is work? Have you figured out what you want to do? Any plans for the future? Met anyone special?

By the time you made it to the edge of your living room towards the other side of the house, you felt a headache coming on. So, you excused yourself back into the kitchen to get a large glass of water. Your father was just departing, leading the congregation of neighbours outside. By the smell of it, someone was on the barbecue.

You were left, alone, in the kitchen, nursing a cold glass of water, listening to the music you were skeptical your dad had actually chosen. There were some good songs, surprisingly.

You placed your glass away as your dad walked in, heading for the sink. He wriggled in next to you, rinsing his hands under the water.

"You okay, honey?"

You nodded. "I'm fine."

He smiled at you, drying his hands on a towel nearby. As he did that, the doorbell rung, echoing through the house, just audible over the music.

"Oh, can you get that? I just need to take these outside..." Your dad said, scooping a couple of extra wine bottles off the counter and heading outside.

You walked through the house, heading to the front door. You opened it with a polite smile spread across your features. It drooped slightly, catching sight of the man on your front porch.

"Captain Price." It was meant to be a greeting, but it sounded more as if you were stating a fact.

He offered you a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He had a bottle of whiskey tucked beneath his arm.

"You just never want to call me by my first name, do you, sweetheart?" He chuckled as you stepped to the side, allowing him entrance.

You blinked after his form— strong, hulking shoulders, a lean abdomen paired with a slight narrow in his waist— as he meandered into the entrance hall.

"John makes you sound old." You quipped as you followed him into the kitchen.

He laughed. "I am old."

"Not that old." You said.

It was somewhat true. He was a similar age to your father, and they were best friends. They'd been in the military together before your dad retired to have a family. Price had always checked in on him, especially when he had time off work. You had known him for a while. Met him a couple of times when you were really young— not that you could remember, anyway— and then you saw him a bit more frequently as you got older. You hadn't seen him for a while up until today. Captain John Price is a busy man.

You felt your body begin to heat up once the pair of you were in the kitchen.

Well, the last time you saw him was a couple of weeks ago, before he was set to be deployed to some foreign country—

"That's it, thaaaat's it, don't talk sweetheart, just take it," Price whispered in your ear, chest pressed to your back. "Don't talk. Just take my cock, there you go. Take it, love. Doing so good for me."

He had you bent over his kitchen counter, his house dark around you, the early hours of the morning apparent by the inky black sky visible out of his windows.

You couldn't talk, even if you tried. You had been trying to whimper to him, moan his name and his rank and tell him what you wanted, but you couldn't get the words out of your mouth. He had left you speechless with the way he continuously hit that spongey spot inside you, making you tighten and gush around him.

Bodies flush together, sweat accumulating between you. Your skin was on fire, hands and tits flush with the cool countertop as he fucked his cock into you, harder and harder, your knees smacking the underside cabinetry. His grip on your hips was vice-like, keeping you steady, his pelvis smacking into your arse.

"S'this my going away present, sweetheart?" He chuckled as you choked on another string of moans caught in your throat. "Fucking perfect. I better get another one once I'm back, yeah?"

You nodded deliriously, finding your voice. "Yes, Price, fuck, I promise, I promise—"

Price cleared his throat, snapping you out of your little flash back. He leaned against the kitchen island, hip bracing against it, having placed the bottle of whiskey down. He folded his arms across his broad chest, arms looking especially good in his black jacket.

"Your dad around?" He asked.

You nodded towards the backyard. "Yeah, he's outside. Did you want me to go get h—?"

You were cut off as Price grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, pressing your body to his. Quickly, he cupped your jaw and placed his mouth to yours, backing your lower back up against the counter. You had your hands against his chest as his tongue slipped into your mouth, one hand on your jaw and the other balled at your hip. He pinched the fabric of your dress between his knuckles, still keeping his fingers tucked into a fist.

Just as you whined into the kiss, your hands travelling upwards, Price stepped back. Commotion outside drew him right across the kitchen as the back door opened and your father came in. You discreetly wiped your face. So did Price.

That was unexpected.

Your dads eyes lit up when he saw Price, and Price smiled at him.

"John! Didn't think you'd make it!" Your dad beamed, pulling Price into a hug.

Price slapped your dad a couple of times on the back before they released each other.

"I flew in last night," Price admitted. "I won't stay long. Just thought I'd pop in and say hi. Oh, I also brought this."

Casually, Price stepped past you and grabbed the bottle of whiskey off of the counter behind you. You breathed in his cologne as he passed the bottle to your dad. You had to force yourself not to close your eyes and whine.

"Jesus, mate, this is an expensive bottle. You shouldn't have."

"No worries, mate. Enjoy it." Price replied.

Your dad turned to you, showing you the bottle, and you had to pretend like it was the coolest thing ever, since your dad seemed absolutely ecstatic.

"You see this, honey? This is good stuff."

"Oh, I bet." You said.

Your dad turned to put the whiskey in a cabinet nearby. When he turned back around, he let his eyes fall on to you, and his gaze softened, a small smile still evident on his face.

"I didn't say earlier, but that's a really nice dress. Nice colour, too. You look beautiful." Your dad said.

You felt your lips quirk at the edges as you hid a bashful smile. "Oh, thanks."

Your dad nudged Price. "It's a nice colour, don't you reckon, John? Reminds me of our deployment in Damascus. Remember? That nice lady selling all those shawls..."

You could tell Price wasn't really listening to your dads military-era story. His eyes were on you. It felt like he was absorbing you whole. Eyes darkening, raking up and down your body, admiring both the dress and the way it clung to you. The pinpoint of his tongue darted across his lips as his gaze travelled upwards from your legs, resting now on your face. You cocked your head at him, ever so slightly, biting your bottom lip for a second. He followed the movement, blinking and looking away, clearing his throat as his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink.

"Yeah, nice colour. Suits you." He grumbled.

After a moment, your dad led Price outside and you watched them go. Your body thrummed in time with the music, buzzing from where Price had touched you just mere minutes ago. You felt warm.

•º•

An hour or so later, the congregation of people had moved back inside, happy and full after the food outside. Darkness had fallen now, music still loud and just slightly vibrating the drinks resting on the counter in front of you.

You were talking with your neighbour, a girl just a few years older than you, who you had known for quite some time. The conversation was actually nice, and you found yourself enjoying it. Until she had to leave, and you were once again left standing alone in the kitchen. Until, of course, Price sidled up beside you, still a respectable distance away.

"Meet me upstairs. Give it a minute, though." Was all he said before he vanished from the room.

No greeting, or small talk. Straight to the fucking point, clearly.

You downed the rest of your drink, letting a good long couple of minutes pass before you decided to head up the stairs. As you ascended, you looked around, seeing no one paying you much attention. Your dad was on the couch, telling a good dozen people one of his usual thrilling stories of his time in the military. You smiled to yourself as you reached the top of the stairs.

You made your way into your bedroom, humming to yourself. You didn't see Price straight away, so you flinched when he slammed the door closed behind you, jamming your desk chair beneath it to keep it locked— it was an old house, with no locks on the bedroom doors— and striding across the room.

You had no time to react as he put a hand to the back of your neck, holding gently but firmly, and pressing your mouth to his. You whined desperately, folding your arms along his shoulders and carding your fingers into his hair, knocking his woollen hat off. He wasted no time in shoving his tongue into your mouth, smoothing it against yours, drawing soft noises from your throat.

He walked you backwards until you both fell against the bed, him overtop of you. He didn't once break the kiss, even when he used one hand to pry your legs apart, forcing them to hook around his hips as he pushed you further onto the bed, crawling after you.

"Missed you." You whispered, pleasure straining each syllable. He had broken away from your mouth, kissing along the curve of your jaw and down the expanse of your throat. He nipped at the soft skin of your neck, licking along your collarbone, still heading southward. He got to the neckline of your dress, pressed taut to the swell of your breasts, rising rapidly as you breathed. He ran kisses along the soft flesh, running his hands up and down your waist, revelling in the softness of the fabric and the warmth of your skin beneath.

"Such a pretty fucking dress," He muttered, teeth skimming the line of the fabric. "Took everything in me not to flip it up and fuck you in it... right there in that kitchen."

He yanked it down, letting your tits spill out before him. With a soft grumble in his throat, he pressed his mouth to your left one, drawing your nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue. He looked up at you whilst he did it, admiring the way your eyes fluttered, struggling to maintain eye contact as the pleasure built.

After a moment, he released it with a slick pop and moved to your right tit, mimicking his earlier actions. You moaned his name, gripping his hair, massaging his scalp. He groaned, mouth wet and hot against your delicate flesh. His hands had moved now— one running up to cup and massage your tits as he sucked, and the other travelling down the length of your body.

Your body hummed in anticipation, tingling as he gently flipped the bottom of your dress up, exposing your underwear. Still sucking kisses onto the mounds of your breasts, he dipped his hand past the hem of your underwear. Two fingers made contact with your slick core, and you arched further into his mouth, moaning loudly.

"Fuck me, you're soaked," Price grunted, releasing your swollen nipple and sitting back on his haunches.

Impatiently, he yanked his hand out of your underwear and ripped them away, the cotton snapping against your thighs, breaking with a loud tear. You whimpered as Price stuffed the material into his jacket pocket, swiftly pushing his fingers back towards your core.

They ran up and down your slit, collecting the excess arousal that was drooling from your cunt. He slowly dragged the digits through your folds a couple of times before he pressed the tips to your clit, drawing tight circles. You gasped, arching for him, moaning his rank as he replaced the two fingers with his thumb. His two fingers were immediately at your dripping entrance, circling.

"So wet, sweetheart. Absolutely dripping," He mused. "What's got you all wet and needy?”

You mewled at him, sensation-overload and he had barely started. Your tits were slick with his saliva, cold in the air of your room. He was still circling your clit, your arousal making his movements audible if you listened hard enough. The music downstairs was dull and echoey, as if you were underwater. Then, his two fingers, the tips barely grazing your soaking hole. You could scream.

"Eh, sweetheart? What's got you soaking your pretty little underwear, hm?" Price asked, still giving your clit attention.

"You." You whine.

"Me?" Price chuckled. "What about me?"

'You're... you're making me wet, Price," you almost sob. "Need you so bad. I missed you."

Price liked that answer, clearly. He pushed two fingers into your cunt, letting out a breathy moan as your silky walls clamped around the digits. You keened, whimpering like some kind of wounded animal as he buried his fingers to the knuckle before dragging them all the way back out. He plunged them in again, and a pace began, almost in time with the base of whatever song was playing downstairs.

"This my welcome home present?" He asked, shoving his fingers repeatedly into your tight cunt, wet sounds reverberating around your bedroom.

You nodded. "Yeah. M-missed you—"

Your lower stomach was tingling, coiling tight. Already? Fucking hell.

"Missed you too, sweetheart," Price leaned up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. "Couldn't get this pretty face outta my head. Couldn't get this pretty cunt outta my head, either."

He leaned back, settling on his ankles as he watched his fingers drag in and out of you, coaxing wave after wave of slick from the depths of your cunt. He moaned, really fucking loudly, at the sight.

"Can I... can I take a video?" Price asked, breathless.

You felt yourself burning up, stomach flipping. You nodded, whining a "yeah" as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and fished out his phone. His fingers slowed for just a moment as he readied his phones camera.

"Wish I had a video when I was deployed," he whispered, more to himself than you. "Had to rely on my imagination."

His words made you moan.

"Yeah, just had to remember those pretty sounds you make, and the sight of this pretty cunt stretched out around my cock," He groaned, turning the flash on to combat the hazy lighting in your bedroom. "Came all over my hand imagining it was this cunt 'round my cock."

He hit record as the movements of his finger sped up. You mewled, whining, arching off the bed and pushing your aching core further onto his hand as he fucked his fingers into you, thumb rubbing tightly against your puffy, wet clit. The sounds were obscene, like foley sound effects, soft squelches with each push of his fingers. You could feel your arousal pooling out of you, down the soft skin of your thighs, across the curve of your arse, bleeding into the sheets beneath you. You imagined that Price's hand would be absolutely drenched.

He was making soft, deep noises in the back of his throat, watching his fingers, phone focused on their movements. He flicked his eyes up to your face, not moving the camera though. Your facial expressions were easy to remember— chewing at your bottom lip, slight furrow in your brow, lips puffy and wet with saliva, eyelids fluttering. That was for his mind only.

You moaned, breathy and high-pitched.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"Gonna... gonna cum."

He withheld a moan at the sound of your sweet desperation. It made his cock throb angrily within the confines of his boxers, already painfully hard the moment he had pushed you onto the bed.

"Go on then, pretty girl. Cum 'round my fingers," He muttered, and you did— creaming around him with a violent twitching of your legs, cunt spasming around his fingers in a burst of arousal, splattering up the length of his forearm. He smiled lazily behind his phone, muttering; "That's a good girl."

"Price—!" You cried, halfway between a moan and a sob.

He hit stop, tossing his phone aside and pulling your thighs apart. Nestling himself between them, his breath fanned out across your soaking folds. You tried to lift yourself off the mattress to see what he was doing, but you couldn't. When his warm tongue licked a fat stripe up your sensitive slit, you flopped backwards.

There wasn't as much foreplay as usual… in the sense that Price shoved his tongue directly into your drooling cunt. He ignored your overstimulated clit, probably for the best, as he lapped at the arousal that was still leaking from you. He moaned happily against your folds, nose pressed just below your clit. It nudged the swollen bundle of nerves every few seconds, and it made your hips buck, electricity zapping the base of your tummy.

You had both hands in his hair, pulling him closer and urging him on. You tugged gently at the strands, massaging his scalp, making him grumble appreciatively below you. His hands were hard and warm against your thighs, making you tingle. Your tits were still exposed, the rest of your dress pooling around your waist.

You could still hear the rest of the party happening downstairs. A small jolt of fear passed through you. If anyone— especially your dad— came searching for you, you'd be fucking dead. Whoever it may be, would find you spread out on your back on your bed, legs spread and panting, a man probably more than twice your age between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

The fear turned to thrill, and you released a shaky breath.

Your second orgasm rolled over you quickly, and Price dragged it from you with a moan of your name against your cunt. You keened, uttering a sickly sweet "captain!" before coming in his mouth.

"Fuck, yeah, that's it." He murmured against your folds, sucking up the arousal that pooled at your fluttering hole. It always made you embarrassed, the way he literally talked into your cunt, his words vibrating your core. He groaned again, humping against your bed covers, pressing the outline of his aching cock into your mattress. "Such a good, wet cunt. Tastes fucking divine."

He pulled away. You watched him hazily as he shed his shirt and pants, then his boxers, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach. You salivated at the sight as he gripped himself, moving to scoop some of your arousal into his hand. He coated himself in it, pumping his hard length, eyes raking down your body.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning over you and kissing you again. His cock settled at your entrance, fat head leaking pre-cum onto your already glistening folds. "Just made for me, weren't you?"

You hummed your agreement, barely able to keep your eyes open. He kissed you again, tongue probing, hot and wet. You whimpered, feeling his tongue skim your bottom lip, drawing further desperate sounds from your panting mouth.

Price cursed. "Fuck. Can I record another video?"

You nodded.

"Words, sweetheart, come on. You should know that."

"Yeah, okay," you said sheepishly. "You can record again."

He kissed your nose, then shuffled back, grabbing his phone as he kneeled between your spread legs. He flicked it to his camera, flash on and hitting record. His phone followed the movements of his cockhead, rubbing up your slit, smearing your arousal. Then, with no warning other than a shallow, animalistic grunt from the depths of his chest, Price pushed his cock into you.

He tried not to cum on the spot at the way you tossed your head back, moaning as your silken walls clamped around his cock. Your fists balled your sheets, twisting, as you scrambled for some kind of anchorage as he pulled out and thrusted back in, shunting you up the bed.

His pace was gruelling, sticky skin colliding with a wet fap fap fap. Your eyes rolled, mouth agape as breathy strings of whimpers fell from your lips. His cockhead nudged the plug of your womb, slamming into that spot that had you twitching and spasming.

"My good girl, my fucking good girl, look at you, taking me so well," Price muttered, definitely audible on camera. You clenched around him repeatedly, drawing throaty grunts from him. Your third orgasm was, not surprisingly, approaching quickly. Really fucking quickly. Especially when Price moved his free hand from your waist to toy with your puffy clit, giving it a light pinch before circling it. You sobbed out, clawing at the sheets.

"Captain, please—!"

"Fuck... beg for it... please, sweetheart, fucking beg for it." By the way Price was speaking, he was close.

Your cunt throbbed at that, a whine in his words.

"Please, Price, need to cum. Can I? P-please—fuck—please, captain, need to—"

He groaned, trying to mute himself as much as he could, sinking his top teeth into his bottom lip before urging himself to speak.

"Go on then. Cum 'round my cock," Price uttered lowly, eyes focused on your face. He could watch his cock fucking into your slick cunt whenever he wanted. He just wanted to see your beautiful face. "Good girl, that's it. You can cum. Let go for me, sweetheart."

"Oh my god, Price—" you keened, third orgasm slamming into you and sending you spiralling. White hot, body alight, nerves buzzing as you came around his cock, still burning hot inside you, abusing the plug of your womb.

"Fucking beautiful," Price grunted, still recording the way your cunt stretched taut around his girth, splattering wet across his pelvis.

He was close, twitching inside you. He was pawing at the mound of your belly, pressing his palm to where the imprint of his cock was visible, so fucking deep inside you. He moaned at the sight, salivating, hiking your dress up further to get a better view.

Overstimulation was creeping in. You whined, reaching down to skirt your fingernails across Price's bare abdomen.

"Please, Price, cum for me," you whimpered, voice coming out unusually sultry. "Cum inside me, please, captain."

"Holy fuck—" Price stuttered, spilling inside you instantly.

His warmth flooded you, spurting around his cock, dribbling out of your cunt. He spilled ropes and ropes, hot white ichor, filling your womb as you sobbed for him.

Price tossed his phone to the side, immediately dragging himself up your body, cock still inside. He pressed kisses all over your face, soothing you, the both of you shining with sweat. Your bare tits pressed against his bare chest as he whispered sweet words of affirmation in your ear.

You sighed.

There really wasn't any other man, your age or not, like Captain John Price.

"You alright?" He asked, kissing your earlobe, your jaw, your cheek, your nose, then finally your lips.

You smiled, his facial hair tickling your face. "Mhm."

"Good." He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking at the skin.

"You had fun filming your little videos?" You cooed, stroking a hand through his hair.

He grunted against your neck. "Of course. Straight to the wank bank they go, sweetheart."

You snorted, laughing. "For such an old man, you are so immature."

"I'm not an old man."

"You said you were earlier," you smiled. "Surprised you can still get it up."

"Fucking hell. You and Soap'd get along."

Your mischievous grin grew. "Oh, the one with the mohawk? Sexy—"

Price bit at your neck, making you yelp. He grumbled, "Don't push it."

You laughed, patting his head. You both lay in silence for a little while, listening to the dull, far-away vibrations of the music.

"We should probably rejoin the party..." You said in a disappointed mumble.

Price grunted, hugging you tighter. "Five minutes."

"Enough for round two, old man?"

"Don't tempt me, sweetheart."

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This was meant to be longer and a bit fluffier but I got tired and horny so here you go hope you enjoyed mwah mwah xx

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

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priyajoyyy · 2 months

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Sexy

Meangirl!Clarisse La rue x Karen!newgirl!fem!reader

It’s Halloween and you get invited to a party by your new friend and cheer captain, silena. While drunk you bump into Clarisse, and obliviously don’t understand the looks she’s giving you.

This is inspired by a request here

And also inspired by the party section of my Meangirl!Clarisse la rue x newgirl!reader concept

Warnings:

Lowkey toxic!clarisse, bullying, drinking, alcohol abuse, mentions of being high and drunk, clarisse kisses reader while they’re both drunk, could be considered dubious consent, I’m cringing myself out while writing at describing kissing 😭😀

You weren’t looking where you were going when you stumbled into someone’s chest, grabbing onto whoever it was before you fell and stumbling out apologies.

Clarisse watched your cute little mouth pout as you did so, looking up at her and your eyes widening at who you were leant against.

She looked at your wide little pupils for a second. You were certainly having fun at your first party at your new school.

You tried to step back, stuttering out more apologies as you realised you’d fallen onto Clarisse.

You hadn’t been at the school long, and you were drinking as hell right now. But you’d seen and heard enough about Clarisse to know that she wasn’t someone to mess with.

She watched you, in your tiny little skirt and low cut top, mouse ears on your head being the only thing that showed you were actually attempting to wear a costume.

“Can’t watch where you’re going little bunny?” Clarisse asked sarcastically, raising her eyebrows at you with a mock pout.

Forgetting of your instincts to run away, you tilted your head with a pout, “I’m not a bunny”

“Awe you’re not?” Clarisse asked with a smirk, watching as you shake your head profusely.

“What are you then sweetheart?” She asks, reaching her hand up to touch your eyes before bringing it down to tuck hair behind your ear, making you blush.

“I’m a sexy mouse” you said plainly, tilting your head to the side again with her hand stop resting on your hair, “duh”

She laughed at that, taking a piece of your hair and twirling it in her fingers. You watch and after a minute you begin quietly giggling along.

She grabs your hand then, your eyes widening in drunken confusion as she pulled you throughout the crowd of people at the party, making your way towards the staircase.

You stumbled behind her, watching the faces of the people you passed blend together, you gained a cup of drink on the way, not really knowing where it came from.

Once you reached the top of the stairs and across the hallway Clarisse dragged you down, you went to take a swig of whatever was in the cup you found, Clarisse snatching it away before you could.

“Give that here” Clarisse said harshly, discarding the cup on a random surface and pulling you into a bedroom.

You frowned at the action, to which she rolled her eyes and spoke to you as if you were a child, “you can’t drink random alcohol you found in the kitchen of a random Halloween party”

You didn’t respond to her other than with a frown, your eyelids beginning to feel heavy and urging you to walk past her and towards the bed in the centre of the room.

You stumbled over and collapsed on the thing, curling up with a random teddy on whoever’s room this is bed.

“Get up” Clarisse said, looking at you from the end of the bed, “I didn’t bring you up here to sleep…”

“I’m tired” you mumbled out, the words muffled by the pillows.

“Too tired to make out?” Clarisse asks, you could practically hear the grin in her voice.

Your head peaked up from the pillow almost immediately, looking at her to see if she was making fun of you again or being genuine.

She smirked deeper at your change of heart, making her way onto the bed until she was kneeling over you on the bed, your head and body turning to meet her gaze as she approached.

“Do you wanna make out?” Clarisse reiterated, watching as you get flustered by her words, nodding at her in response.

“Words bunny” Clarisse said to you, her hands reaching your hips as her leg went over your body, now straddling you.

“Yes” you mumbled out, shivering under clarisses touch and leaning towards her face.

Clarisse leaned in and began kissing you then, her hands making their way up to your head from your hips, gripping into your hair as your own reach to cup her face.

You continued kissing, leaning back into the bed as her tongue made its way into your mouth, and your hands curled around the back of your head.

Her right hand grinned your hair slightly, and her other moved to the pillow beside you to keep her upright.

Clarisse parted from you for a moment, giving you a second to breathe, watching you smile up at her cutely.

“You’re so pretty” you drunkenly slur out with a wide smile.

Clarisse laughed in response, leaning back down to kiss you.

Taglist:

@slaggylemon @yourmom-25s-blog @l0veshellarcelia

Hope you enjoyed it and this is similar to what you meant!!

Bare with me on updates on series’s and fix’s atm, I’ve got some uni work to get done unfortunately 😭 and I’ve had some family stuff going on so I’m probably not gonna be posting as often as I’d like :)

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safination · 2 months

Text

Partners in Death…and Life

Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself

| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*

Flick…

Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you.

The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you… just… one … single … moment to…

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘yours’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand—it’s a proper animalistic feather.

Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain.

The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o��͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair…hair-feather, or your ‘whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.

An audible grumble… well, uhhhhh…. grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with.

(These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)

Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.

You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.

Ad about some impish business—Not interested.

‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.

Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.

Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of…something. You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.

The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box.

Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown. Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.

A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.

Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink. Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓̟͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door. Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.

Another blink.

Huh…you’re on the bus.

The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle.

You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems…

Hmmmmm.

It seems you did not think this through. H-how…How are you going to get to the hotel?

Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.

Turns out, you don’t even need the address.

The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.

The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.

You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?

“Excuuussseeeee me.”

A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair … or was that skin … puffs out with two red sets of red eyes.

“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.

“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”

You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”

His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his … er… snake body.

You follow in silence.

The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.

Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”

His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”

You give him your name “….Doctor.”

“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”

“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”

The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”

One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.

You wave back.

Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel.

Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.

Your smile strains after a minute of banging.

A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.

Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”

A punch to the face is his reply.

“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”

This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”

“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.

“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell … Cady … Char …Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”

“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face.”

Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.

Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.

No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered. Would Alastor stay in such a place?

You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘x’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.

“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous. “This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this…slithery…slippery…special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery…sheddy… and round-eyed woman.”

You do not shed.

You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “…and I expect it to be used.”

Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”

“None taken,” you say, dryly.

Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.

You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.

Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So…this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”

Vaggie calms her down.

The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.

You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Uh…yes,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.

The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”

Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”

“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”

Husk doesn’t answer you.

Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”

Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”

“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless….” Charlie prattles on.

“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.

She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘humph’, and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.

You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”

Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”

“Maybe next ti—”

Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious…hehe…,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”

Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.

He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.

You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”

You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”

Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure.”

You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”

“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.

“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”

His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”

“I think you mean the good nurse.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”

“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”

“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”

A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”

A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?

“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art

“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”

And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here

Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.

“You have such beautiful handiwork.”

“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”

“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”

You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”

Alastor is following you.

The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.

You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.

His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”

You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”

He takes the bottle from you.

“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh…and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”

“That is because I am.”

Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.

You point to the top shelf. “Can you…?”

He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.

“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display

Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”

“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”

Alastor continues to follow. “Do you often aid your father in his work?”

“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”

“Such interesting hobbies you have.”

You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”

You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.

You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”

He nods, smiling at you.

You smile back.

Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown. “Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”

“Partners,” you say

“Friends,” Alastor says

Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.

Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”

“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋.” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”

More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.

Charlie winces a bit “….Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we… uh… take a look at the kitchen!”

Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.

Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)

You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor…”, you say as a greeting.

Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”

“My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite… kind… of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.

Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.

The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances.

Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.

“This…,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “…is the kitchen!”

Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”

“Uhhhhhh…I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘x’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”

“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”

Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”

Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.

“Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”

Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.

Soft static fills the kitchen air.

“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”

Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human. It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?

Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re… giving…me permission to poke around?”

“Er…yes?”

You open a random cabinet door, and huh…

On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.

Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but…but…you find it in your grocery basket every single time.

Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.

Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.

“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.

You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.

Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”

“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”

He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”

Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”

Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”

“What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”

Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”

Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.

The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.

Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something.

Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.

Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.

“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing!” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”

Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”

Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”

Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman. Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.

He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.

There’s still that never ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.

Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—

You slap him.

Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.

The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.

You slap him again, staring down at him.

“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.

You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”

His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh

“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”

Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.

Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him.

“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”

“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”

“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh…yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.

You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”

It’s his silence that makes you turn away.

“I see…” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”

You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble…at least, they never have before.)

Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”

You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.

Alastor does not answer you.

“Will you just stay silent every time?”

“Yes.”

Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However, I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”

There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”

“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”

Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”

You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”

“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread. He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."

You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”

“Indeed.”

You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.

“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.

He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”

“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”

Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.

“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”

“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”

You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.”

You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.

“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”

Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”

You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”

His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”

“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”

A knock breaks the moment.

The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.

“Oooooooohhhh….yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”

“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”

Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”

You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”

Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.

The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.

There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.

Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”

Charlie squeals. “Thank you thank you thank you!” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”

“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”

Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”

Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”

From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”

Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.

“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”

Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”

“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”

“Not at all, my love.”

“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush that away. You grab the lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

“Much better?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you say, softly.

“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.

“Good.”

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh…oh. His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.

That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”

“Of course.”

“See to it that you keep your word.”

The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.

You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.

Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.

‘First, do no harm’

But this…this does not harm a single living being.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

If you guys know who Olivia and Stolar are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.

#alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #Hazbin x reader #Hazbin Hotel imagines #Hazbin imagines #Hazbin Hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x wife reader

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merakiui · 4 months

Text

The Most Dangerous Game [2]

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, slight hints of dub-con, coercion, manipulation, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, obsession, unrequited/one-sided love, brief angst, choking, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, characters written as 18+ note - it is never a good idea to make mutually beneficial arrangements with jade leech. // split into two parts due to size. read the first half here.

There’s a certain air about you when you enter the Mostro Lounge.

Radiating confident satisfaction, a cutthroat type of on-top-of-the-world aura that replaces any first day jitters attempting to rise to the surface, you beeline for the kitchen. You know the lounge’s layout well enough—not only as a customer who spent an obsessive amount of time observing these details, but also as Jade’s diligent taste-tester. You’ve been let into the lounge kitchen after hours more often than you’d like to admit, but it only serves to bolster your mental fortitude.

I’m going to kill it today, you assure yourself. Prove to Azul that I’m capable and get closer to Floyd in the process.

As if having read your thoughts, Floyd intercepts you. “Heyyy, Shrimpy really showed up!” He circles you like a curious shark, a smile slowly spreading on his lips. “Lookin’ good.”

You reward his ogling with a twirl in your new uniform, which had been conveniently waiting at your doorstep this morning—wrapped in a pretty box with a big bow. The card had simply read: A uniform to celebrate your newly acquired Officially Octavinelle status. You didn’t have to read further to know who signed the message, and the note had been swiftly torn in two and tossed into the trash while you lamented to Grim and the ghosts about a certain stupid, sly eel.

“Aren’t I just the spitting image of scummy scams and the deep sea?”

“The most spittin’ image anyone’s ever spat,” he agrees with a silly giggle. But then something serious passes over his features. He plucks your hat from off your head and leans in close. “It’s Shrimpy’s first day, so I’m gonna letcha in on a li’l somethin’, kay?”

Out of instinct, you shrink away. His voice is a dangerous whisper, lined with threatening undertones. “Anyone gives you any trouble, you come to me, got it? Don’t think you can’t say nothin’ cuz you’re new.”

“Oh. O-Oh!” You nod hastily, too astounded to rely on your usual quick-witted coherency. “Thank you… I appreciate that.”

Like a flipped switch, he brightens and plops your hat back on your head. “Man, I’m pumped! It’s gonna be so much fun with Shrimpy here!”

You adjust your hat and skip after him, not wanting to slip out of his orbit. “So what’s the plan for today?”

Floyd grins and holds a card between his fingers like a magician readying to reveal his next trick. Foolishly, you assume it’s a love letter up until you watch him scribble something down on a second card. He passes the unmarked one to you, explaining, “Ya gotta sign in for every shift. These things keep track of the hours ya worked, and at the end of every two weeks Azul counts ’em up.”

“That makes sense.” You take the pen he offers and scribble your name and the time in the appropriate boxes, soon handing both to him.

“And after you put it back here, you can start doin’ what you’re supposed to. Least, that’s what I usually do.”

“And that is?”

“Whatever I feel like.”

“Ah, right. Then what about me? What should I do?”

“You’re gonna be with me today. We’ll be takin’ orders and servin’ customers. Doin’ stuff as we go. That sorta thing.”

“All right! Sounds easy enough!” The both of you high-five just as Jade approaches, wearing his usual polite smile.

“My, my. Someone’s in high spirits.”

You nod, too eager to entertain him with another pointless argument. “You bet! Oh, and thanks for the uniform.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Your nose scrunches at his too-proud inflection, but your attention is soon snatched away when Floyd returns with a notepad and pen.

You flip to a fresh page, curiously clicking your pen. “I’m assuming there’s a system for taking orders?”

“Precisely,” Jade interrupts, smoothly striding between you and Floyd, a hand over his heart. “We use abbreviations when taking orders. It’s quick and convenient. I’ll help you as you go.”

Floyd easily steps around Jade, draping an arm on your shoulder and tugging you against him. Your heart skyrockets into your throat at this newfound closeness. “You’ll get it in no time. S’not difficult at all. And if Shrimpy gets stuck, she’s got me.”

Jade stares at Floyd, a ghost of a frown turning his lips down. “She’ll have both of us,” he corrects coolly. “Azul tasked both of us to train her, after all.”

“Yeah, but you’re just gonna do things by the book. That’s no fun at all.” Floyd spins you to look at him. “You want me to train ya, right? It’ll be more fun that way.”

You lock eyes with Jade over Floyd’s shoulder. Though they’re dulled with emptiness, he smiles and nods encouragingly. “Uh… I mean, of course I want you to train me. But Azul might get angry if I mess up on my first day because I wanted to have fun. Seems a little…irresponsible.”

He’ll definitely count it as my first strike, too. There’s no way I’m risking that.

Floyd pouts, his entire frame melting with disappointment. “Aww. Shrimpy’s lame.”

“There are other ways to have fun, you know.” Swatting his empty insult away, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “We just can’t get caught.”

“Attagirl, now you’re speakin’ my language.”

“Hell yeah! Let’s do this!”

Between the two of them, Floyd actually proves his worth—more so than Jade. He must be on top of his game today, you realize as he points out various numbering systems and abbreviations, casually correcting you when it’s necessary. You wonder how he can remember all of this, but when he puts his mind to a task he can accomplish anything. You’re content to listen and follow along, striving for perfection even though you know that means nothing to Floyd.

Jade keeps his distance, tending to nearby tables when he’s not needed. He’s quiet today, more so than usual, but you don’t have any time to dissect this observation and what it means. The lunch rush is a whirlwind; students filter in with their cravings, piling into booths and tables, and soon the lounge is resembling a noisy sardine tin. The rowdy energy keeps you alert, has you flitting from table to table with a pep in your step. Every group you’ve tended to, with Floyd standing at your side as your lifeline, has shrunk away at the sight of him. He flashes them friendly grins, but to everyone else they probably look menacing.

You’re relieved he’s here. His presence gives you some special sort of invincibility against ignorant customers who may have been itching to heckle you on your first day. And no one would dare try anything with Floyd prowling so closely.

“Thank you for your order! It’ll be up shortly,” you say, offering the table a trademark customer service smile. You turn on your heel, intending to beeline for the kitchen to notify the chefs of another order, when you walk right into Floyd. “Oh, sorry! Do you need something, Floyd?”

Pinching the order slip between two nimble fingers, he tears it from the notebook and beams. “I’ll take care of this. You do the next one by yourself. Table six.” Before you can object, he pats you on the shoulder and skips off. “Countin’ on ya, Shrimpy!”

Aw. I’ll miss you, you think with a dejected pout, spinning to locate the table in question. The pout immediately twists up into a smile when you spot three familiar faces, and you hurry over to meet them.

“Hey, guys, fancy seeing you here!”

Ace, Deuce, and Grim all turn to look at you, their faces brightening considerably at your arrival.

“(Name), hey! How’s your first shift going?” Deuce asks.

“Think ya could slide us some extras free of charge?” Grim tries, patting the menu with his paw. “The Great Grim ain’t gonna say no to free eats!”

“Now that sounds good. What do ya think, (Name)? Think you could hook us up?” With a smirk, Ace leans back into the cushioned booth and pantomimes locking his lips and tossing an invisible key. “We won’t tell if you won’t.”

You roll your eyes, hands situated on your hips. “First of all, no, I can’t do that even if I wanted to. Secondly, if you’re just here to beg for free food, the door’s over there.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Deuce cuts in, shooting them a look. “They’re just thinking with their stomachs. We’re paying customers like everyone else, so please just treat us like that.”

Ace tuts. “You wouldn’t even do something nice for your best buds? That’s harsh, man. I thought we had something.”

“We do and it’s called friendship. But not the kind of friendship where I steal from my job just to feed you. Besides, you get tons of free snacks every time you hang out at Ramshackle. If anything, you ought to do something nice for me.”

“Can’t I just buy my way out with this award-winning smile of mine? Oh, I know! I’ll teach you a few magic tricks next time we play cards. How’s that sound for payment? Priceless, yeah?”

“Not too bad. All right, I’m in.” You reach over to bump fists with Ace, sealing the verbal deal.

“Hey, I wanna learn! If yer teachin’ my hench-human, I gotta get in on this, too!” Grim nudges Ace, attempting to squeeze past him in the booth to get between him and you.

“Oi, Grim! Sit back down!”

You laugh at the sight while Deuce looks on woefully. He turns to you next. “How’s it going with Floyd? You said you’d have a better chance to see him here, right?”

“Yeah, it’s going surprisingly well! I thought he’d want nothing to do with me at first—because I’d be just another new hire—but he’s been super helpful all day. On top of that, we’re talking more than we usually do. Oh, and he also complimented me! It’s been a great first day.” The more you ramble, the more the color on Deuce’s face drains until he’s as pallid as a ghost. “Uh, Deuce? You good?”

Even Grim and Ace have quieted their quarreling, and now they look on with an obedience that startles you. But then, in spite of his silence, you sense him. Without turning to confirm, you feel around for the ends of his scarf, take hold of both, and tug him down to your height.

“My, my. It seems I’ve been ensnared,” Jade admits, his voice light with laughter.

“It’s rude to lurk, you know,” you advise, craning your head to glare at him. “You’re scaring my honored guests.”

“Am I now?” Rather boldly, he rests his chin on your shoulder to stare down at your friends. The proximity would have been ominous to anyone else—and it certainly is to Ace, Deuce, and Grim—but for you this is nothing new. “I’ve only come to check in. You’re very hard at work making pleasant conversation.”

“It was very pleasant until a certain eel interrupted.”

“Ah, is that so? Pardon my intrusion.”

Releasing his scarf from your hold, you shrug him off. “Little late for insincerity. Anyway, shoo. I was just about to take their orders.”

“I thought I might observe. You seem quite popular with customers and it’s only your first day. I’d like to know what parts of you are so appealing.” Jade detaches himself and slides into the empty space beside you. He smiles, close-eyed and tight-lipped. “Don’t let me hinder you.”

“Ugh. All right, guys, what do you want?”

“Since when are you so buddy-buddy with Jade?” Ace asks instead, sounding genuinely curious despite his growing smirk.

He thinks he’s worked out what’s going on behind the scenes, but he doesn’t even know half of it. A relief, otherwise you’d never hear the end of his teasing. He doesn’t bother to hide it, nor does he whisper his query. If you could shrink him with pure willpower alone, stuff him in a jar, and give it a firm shake, you’d do just that.

“We are not buddy-buddy!” you hiss, clicking your pen impatiently. “Now order, or else I’m leaving your table and never coming back.”

“I dunno…” Deuce winces under the combination of Jade’s inquisitive stare and your mean glower as you wordlessly dare him to continue. “You seem like buds to me.”

“Yeah! (Name) was goin’ on and on about him this morning. Nearly made me deaf with all her loud rantin’! Since the Great Grim’s so all-knowin’ about stuff, I’d say she likes him.”

You catch the grin curling on Jade’s lips and hurry to step in front of him before he can say or do anything that’ll deepen the grave you’ve dug. His hands fall upon your shoulders, holding you still while he leers at your friends.

“Do we truly seem so close?” he asks. A trick question if you’ve ever heard one.

The three of them exchange wary looks before attempting chuckles.

“You know… Actually, I think I’m ready to order now.”

“I mean, closeness can’t really be measured physically like that, right? You kinda have no choice but to be close or…as close as coworkers can get, I guess,” Deuce adds.

“The Great Grim’s gonna be skin and bones by the time you finish yapping! Hurry up and lemme put my order in!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stick your tongue out at them before shifting out of Jade’s grasp, penning their orders one at a time. Once everything has been recorded, you rip the slip from the notepad and pass it to Jade. He peers at it, brows raised.

“Since we’re so close, help me out and make this order.”

“Anything for Shrimpy,” he murmurs with that stupid, sly smile of his. He brushes past you as he departs for the bar.

You just love to play dangerous games, don’t you, Jade Leech? you think, hoping he trips on the way there. (He doesn’t.)

“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?” Ace asks once it’s just you. “Nothing at all?”

Your eyes narrow dubiously. “Why? You interested?”

He forces a loud scoff. “As if! Like I’d like you. You’ve probably got all sortsa cooties.”

“Oh, really? I’ll show you cooties. Come here!”

Giggling, you throw yourself into the booth and wrap your arms around Ace to smother him in friendly affection. He fights it halfheartedly, his cheeks flushed pink. Deuce and Grim sit back and enjoy the silliness with wide smirks. You’re near-wrestling with him, the both of you attempting to overpower the other with pokes and pinches. It’s when you spot Floyd emerging from the kitchen, drinks balanced on his tray, that you finally separate yourself from Ace, putting a grand end to your impossible stalemate.

“Now we’ve both got cooties.” You ruffle his hair. He attempts to return the favor, but you take a graceful step away before he can capture you.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you wait. I’ll get you back for this,” he challenges, mischief lacing each syllable. “When you least expect it! That’s an Ace Trappola guarantee!”

“You sure you’re not just gonna forget?” Deuce notes with a smirk, to which Ace glares.

“Just because you said that, I’m gonna remember it for the rest of the month!”

“Good luck,” Grim says with a snicker. “The Great Grim might be inclined to remind you if you offer him some premium tuna…”

“Come off it! Your memory’s even worse! Just look at your last test score!”

“Yours ain’t any better!”

You shake your head, thoroughly amused with their antics. “I’ll see you later, okay? Let’s hang out at Ramshackle tonight!”

Deuce nods and flashes you a kind smile—the type that smooths out all of his rough edges. “Have a good rest of your shift, (Name).”

“Make a difference, tiger,” Ace says with a wink. “Catch ya in the eve.”

“And if they got leftovers at the end of this, bring ’em home for me!”

“You can count on it, guys. And I’m not making any promises, Grim!”

And then you’re slipping into the fray before your always-hungry direbeast friend can protest, darting around the noisy hustle and bustle to get to Floyd. He’s just finished making his rounds when you meet him at the center, the both of you sharing a nod of mutual greeting. Carrying drinks of his own, Jade passes you and you don’t spare him a single glance. You’ve seen and heard enough of him for the day.

“Shrimpy’s pretty good at this,” Floyd remarks as he wraps an arm around you, putting most of his weight on you. You stand proud even though you falter with the added burden. “Didja work in a place like this back in your world?”

You gaze up at him, your face inches from his. Any closer and you could…

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his lips and then back. Floyd watches you, brows raised and body angled directly at you. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, you’re not sure.

“Yeah,” you admit in a single breath, speechless and yet filled to the brim with chatter. “I… I did.”

“Then you got nothin’ to worry about. You’re already doin’ great.”

He leans in even closer, a smile stretching across his face. You can smell his cologne, practically taste him from where you stand. The lounge and its inhabitants seem to fade away, and suddenly it’s just you and your star in a tenebrous space lit only by a single spotlight.

Any closer—mere centimeters—and you could…

Gathering your courage, you force the words out from the crannies in your heart, each one a product of this perfect moment. “Floyd, I’ve always wanted to tell you this. I… I want you to know that I’ve always loved—”

“Your work ethic,” Jade interjects, placing his hands on your and Floyd’s shoulders to separate you. He smiles, irritatingly innocent. “As it happens, table eight needs a server. Why not show off that incredible work ethic right now?”

On second thought, maybe you should shove Jade in the jar. Lock him inside for the rest of his days and turn it into a terrarium trap. The plants can thrive off of his decomposing corpse for all you care—as recompense for being an utter pain.

Floyd shrugs Jade off with a pout. “Yeah, yeah. I see ’em.”

“I’ll race you there,” you challenge before he can lose steam.

That sparks him right back into the groove, and he giggles. “If I win, you gotta tell me that thing you were tryin’ to say, okaaay? No gettin’ out of it. And if you lie, I’ll squeeze the truth outta ya.”

“And if I win, you owe me something sweet!”

“Hee-hee. Shrimpy better run fast then.”

He takes off first. You lag behind long enough to drag Jade down to your face. He tilts his head at you.

“At this rate, he’ll win.”

“Good. Then he’ll finally know how I feel about him, and someone won’t be there to interrupt like the ignorant, asshole eel he is.”

“I only wish to assist you. After all—” he lowers his voice, and the pointed beginnings of his teeth wink at you from under his curved lips— “as per Azul’s condition, kissing and confessions count as Floyd-related distractions, do they not? Are you truly willing to risk striking out on your first day?”

He’s right. You hate that he’s right.

“Shit,” you hiss, releasing him from your hold.

He straightens and struts past you, smooth as a breeze. “If you run now, you may just make it.” And then he’s walking towards your friends’ table, each of their drinks placed upon his tray.

You groan and fall into a frantic run. “Floyd, wait up!”

By some magical miracle, you manage to get to the table before he does. But that’s only because you throw yourself at it with a force so shocking and desperate that it stuns both Floyd and the students sitting there. A twinge of humiliation pricks your heart when you draw away from the table, smiling sheepishly. Floyd’s raucous laughter permeates the air, and his hand claps down on your shoulder.

“Musta been a real good secret if Shrimpy’s so determined to keep quiet about it.”

“Y-Yeah, something like that…”

Thank goodness I made it. Just what was I thinking, getting swept up in the moment? There’s no way I can confess in the middle of the lounge when it’s so busy! That would make for such a lame confession. You dig your notepad and pen from your pocket, exhaling in relief. I guess I owe Jade some thanks. He saved me from certain doom.

“I’ll figure it out eventually. Don’t hold out on me, kaaay?”

With his looming frame overshadowing you, all you can do is nod. Floyd has always had a tendency to take your breath away—either from anxiety, amazement, or admiration. And he’s so good at it, too.

“Ah. Guess I owe ya somethin’ sweet, yeah?” He digs through his pockets before withdrawing a single candy. Grinning boyishly, he leans in, presses his lips to your cheek with a wet-sounding smack, and then slides the treat into your waiting hand. “There. How’s that for sweet?”

Your face flares with heat and you grip the lollipop in a tighter fist, half-expecting it to simply vanish if you loosen your grip. “T-The sweetest…”

“Uh, can we order now?” an impatient Scarabia student asks, a scowl scrawled across his features.

His friends huff in agreement, each unwilling spectators to your and Floyd’s fluffy fawning.

Floyd’s gaze is dark, but his smile is bright—all sharp points. “Sure, sure. Tell Shrimpy your order. It’s her first day, so cut her some slack, else I’m servin’ each of ya a side of squeezin’. On the house.”

The quartet of friends stiffen and give hasty, obedient nods.

You click your pen, swimming through a sea of pure joy. The lollipop is a lucky charm in your pocket. “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”

For the rest of the day you’re in the clouds, clear-headed and weightless.

Weeks later, on your way out of the lounge, Floyd stops you. His arrival is Grim’s cue to exit, and he trots after Ace and Deuce, who are already so far ahead they’re practically pinpricks. You’re compelled to follow, if only to tell them not to wait up, but then Floyd’s hand is squeezing your shoulder, willing you to look at him.

“Floyd?”

You’re not scheduled to work tonight. In fact, you have no further business with him. Not really. Most of your conversations are held during your shifts, your bond strengthened through mutual employment. You’re not best friends, but you’re something close.

Close enough to see each other outside of work, you think before cringing inwardly. Wait. Friends and classmates do that, too. There’s nothing special about that.

“Why don’tcha stay a while? S’not too busy today.”

“I’d love to, but I’ve kinda got plans. We’re heading back to Ramshackle now if you wanna come.”

“Tempting, but nah.”

You blink at him, unsure of his angle. “Then… I’ll see you around?”

Floyd giggles, tilting his head at you in that cute, curious way. “Okaaay.”

His hand slides away and he stands with his arms folded behind his back. You take a step in the opposite direction before halting.

Floyd was the one who sought me out. Floyd…wants something from me. And we’re finally alone. Why am I trying to walk away from that? Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted?

“Actually—” you start, whirling around, still unsure— “can we hang out?”

“Thought ya’d never ask.”

Floyd strides over to match your gait, grinning down at you. He seizes your hand next, spindly fingers interlocking with yours, and then he’s dragging you down the hall. As if caught up in a current, you allow yourself to be pulled.

“What about your shift?” you ask even though you don’t particularly care.

“They’ll manage. Azul’ll just make Jade do all the work.”

You furrow your brow, stumbling along after him. “That doesn’t seem very fair to Jade.”

“Shrimpy cares a lot about Jade, huh?”

“Not like that,” you say, shaking your head. “No way. Jade and I are just friends.”

“Yeah? Didn’t seem that way yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You think back on the day’s events and recall the way Jade had slipped past you while you were taking an order, his fingers grazing your arm. Of course, as any smart, sensible person would do, you wound your fist back to reciprocate tenfold, which he’d artfully dodged. Much to your disappointment. “Oh, that. That was…an attempt at a high-five.”

Floyd giggles. “Jade’s not super touchy-feely with lotsa people, but he loooves touchin’ Shrimpy.”

You force yourself to laugh, but it comes out high and brittle. “That’s… Yeah, that’s odd. I wonder why…”

Jade, you asshole eel, you haven’t been discreet at all!

Before you can even think of the many ways in which you can exact revenge the next time you see him, Floyd’s in your face.

“Sooo, what spell didja cast on him? It’s got Jade actin’ all weird.”

“Define weird…”

“He’s stayin’ up super late to cook a buncha stuff. Keeps tryin’ to get these recipes right or somethin’ like that, and he’s bringin’ those purple flowers back from the botanical garden. S’not like him to get so…not like him, y’know?”

“Oh. Um. Uh… I couldn’t begin to explain any of his behavior. Maybe he’s just going through something?”

Floyd shrugs. “Do ya like him?”

“Like is a strong word.”

“So you love him.”

“What? No. We’re just friends.”

“So you hate him? That’s cold, Shrimpy. Jade’ll be so sad…”

“I highly doubt that.” You roll your eyes, unable to place real devastation on the face of Jade Leech. For all you know, he could just mask it with his usual simper. “I don’t hate him, but I don’t love him either. I like someone else.”

“Ooh, Shrimpy’s got eyes for another guy? Wonder who it could be.” Floyd hums, folding his arms behind his head and walking onwards. You skip after him. “Maybe it’s me? Nah. S’probably someone closer than that. Like Crabby, yeah?”

Your heart stumbles in your ribs. I can’t confess. Not now. It’s not perfect. I’m not ready.

“M-My love life is none of your business.”

“Secretive about your special someone? I getcha.” He gazes at you. “Do they know?”

“About my crush? Hard to say. If he does know, he hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Maybe ya just gotta be direct with it. Rip the bandage off. That sorta thing.”

“I want to. I really do. But…” You glance at the tiled floor. “I know he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Don’t assume stuff when ya haven’t even asked the guy.”

“But I’m positive he doesn’t like me! There’s no way he’d like me. I’m…me.”

Floyd huffs as if your self-doubt offends him. “What’s there not to like about ya? You’re great in my book.”

“It’s different. Being great and being loved—it’s not the same if it’s coming from a friend.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Why can’tcha be great and loved at the same time? Ya don’t gotta get that sorta validation from the guy you like.”

“That’s the problem. I want him to like me! I want that from him.”

“Even if he doesn’t give it to ya, s’not the end of the world.”

Without even realizing it, the two of you have made it to his dorm room. You stare at Floyd, a frown flickering on your face.

“I know. I…know. But there’s this part of me that hopes.”

Floyd leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Why’s that?”

“Because he does these things that feel too intimate to be friendly and it seems like he might love me, too. No matter how hard I try, I can’t read his intentions. He’s so loud, but the meaning in all of that noise is quiet. It’s like… Like you’re drowning.”

Floyd stares blankly at you. It occurs to you that drowning may not be the best metaphor to use when explaining these complications to a merman who has never and will never know what such a phenomenon feels like.

“Wait. That came out weird. What am I even saying? Sorry, I sound silly. Just…forget that last part.”

“Sure, sure.” He pushes off from the wall and opens the door. “You ever think about practicin’ on anyone?”

“Like…CPR? To save someone from drowning?”

He gives you a confused look.

This is the worst. I’m not normally this dumb. If Jade was here— You stop that thought before it can form. I don’t need him to hold my hand through an interaction with Floyd. Come on, (Name). You can do this!

“Oh, you meant…” What the hell did he mean? “You’re talking about a confession, right?”

“Yeah, that’s it! You ever think about doin’ that with a friend? Maybe it’ll boost your confidence a li’l. Get ya ready for the real deal.”

“I have…never thought of that. Not once in my life. Nope. Never.”

Floyd ducks inside his room and plops down on a messy bed. You follow, admiring the very obvious divide in space. Jade’s half of the room is clinically clean—every possession organized and stowed away on shelves. Even his desk is spotless. Floyd’s half is chaos stuffed with chaos, entirely in messy disarray. When their differences are made so obvious, it’s almost amusing.

You spot heliotropes tucked away in a simple vase. Floyd wasn’t kidding. Jade really is attached to those flowers. At least they match his room.

“Then practice on me.”

“You… You’re serious?” You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his palms.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I wanna help Shrimpy.”

“Um… You don’t have to. It’ll probably sound cringe.”

“Who knows?” He hums, smirking. “You won’t until you do it.”

You weigh your options. Practicing a confession for your crush with your crush… It could be cathartic to say everything you’ve always wanted to say without the worry that often accompanies rejection. You might even feel better afterwards.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

“Really promise. Like, genuinely promise. Please?”

“I really, genuinely promise not to laugh,” he parrots, holding his hand up as if swearing an oath.

You inhale a deep breath, steel your nerves, and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Okay…”

I’ve got this. It’s just a confession. A practice confession.

“I… I like you. For the longest time, I’ve been in love with you and I’ve always wanted to tell you. But… Well, it’s impossible because I never know what to say or whether it’ll be the right thing. Maybe there is no right thing.” You risk opening your eyes and find he’s focused squarely on you. Nervously, you step towards him. “You’re amazing. The coolest guy I’ve ever met. I’m so happy when I’m around you, and when we’re not together I feel like part of me is missing. Maybe that’s kinda dramatic, but it’s the truth. You’re my star. Bright and unique and effortlessly beautiful… I could admire you forever. So… So I just want you to know that…that no matter what happens—even if you don’t feel the same—you mean everything to me, and I’ll always love you.”

Floyd is unusually quiet as he sits there, absorbing your words with a flushed face. And then he reaches to scratch the back of his neck.

You fidget on your feet. “H-How was it?”

“I’m not an expert, but I’d say that was pretty damn good,” he replies with a whistle. Your heart lifts when he beckons you over. “C’mere. There’s somethin’ on your face.”

Now your heart has crash-landed in the pits of your stomach.

“Are you serious?! Why didn’t you tell me before all of that? Aah, I probably looked so stupid!” Your panicked flailing ceases when his hands settle upon your waist, coaxing you closer. “F-Floyd?”

He drags you down to his height and leans in to peck you on the lips, and your heart jumps back up into your throat. Rather than yanking yourself out of his grasp, you merely stare at him. A few seconds later and the embarrassment catches up to you.

“W-Wait… Wait, hold on! What was that for?”

He giggles. “Now it’s all gone.”

He kissed me for real this time…

You swallow rising anxieties and place your hands on his shoulders. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

“S’long as it ain’t gonna change your mind about that other guy, go for it.”

Dummy, you think, besotted. You’re that guy.

Guided by hedonistic desire, you close the distance between the both of you in the same way you once did with Jade. As humiliating as it is to admit, he was marvelous help. If not for him, you might’ve never found yourself here, kissing after a practice confession. You’ll have to thank him later.

Floyd’s lips are soft against your own, and he smiles into the kiss with a gleeful, breathless giggle. His hands are roaming along your hips, and he flops onto his bed without forewarning. You fall with him and inadvertently straddle him, your hands situated on either side of his head. You sputter your disbelief, which is soon cut short when he drags you down to meet his mouth once more. This time it’s all heady passion, more innate instinct than anything. You kiss like you’ll never have another chance, savoring saliva and a duet of sounds made in salacity.

The both of you are left breathless in the aftermath, chests heaving. If this is a dream, you never want to wake.

Floyd smiles up at you, sandwiching your face between large, strong hands. “You gonna kiss your special someone like this?”

“Maybe,” you tease with a wink. “I wonder if he prefers soft, slow kisses or quick, hungry ones… It’s hard to say with his fluctuating moods, and there are just so many ways to kiss.”

Floyd’s smile morphs into something devious, and his hands slide to your arms. You yelp when he flips you and pins you down like you’re nothing more than a portrait on a wall. You’re about to question the sudden change in position when he hoists your legs up and around his waist. He rocks his hips once, slotting himself between your thighs in a way so sensual it has you overheating. Your breath hitches.

“Then we’d better practice all of ’em, yeah?”

You nod, your voice coming out meek. “Y-Yeah…”

“Gimme some hints. I wanna know who this guy is,” he says, removing his scarf and undone tie. His blazer and hat follow suit, abandoned in the piles of dirty laundry spread around on his side of the floor.

You’re so distracted by his methodical undressing that you almost miss his demand. “O-Oh, it’s…not important.”

“It is to me. I wanna know who I’m gonna hafta squeeze for stealin’ Shrimpy’s heart.”

“Is… Is that right?” you mumble, flinching when you spot his erection straining against his slacks.

“Shrimpy’s so cute. I just couldn’t help it,” he answers your unspoken question, each syllable an octave higher with his whimsical laughter. You watch deft hands work to slide the suspenders from his shoulders before moving to unbutton his uniform shirt. You blink and it’s already thrown over his shoulder. You drink his broad build in, brazen in your assessment of chiseled planes cut in charming chiaroscuro. “So who’s the lucky guy? Is it someone I know? Someone from Octavinelle?”

“Um… It’s definitely someone…”

“Course it is. But that ain’t givin’ me any solid clues.”

His hands crawl lower, hovering just above the zip that separates you from his boxers and, additionally, his cock.

It’s actually happening… Floyd wants to do this with me… Is this real? It’s not a dream, right?

With a scintilla of courage, you lift your gaze to his face. “It’s someone from Octavinelle.”

“You sure it ain’t Jade?”

“There are plenty of people in Octavinelle who aren’t Jade.”

“Yeah, but none of ’em are cozyin’ up to ya during work.”

“Jade does not cozy up to me.” Scoffing at the absurdity of it all, you reach to undo the first few buttons on your uniform blouse. Floyd follows your fingers like they’re a laser and he’s a cat entranced. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “He’s, like, obsessed with his fungi. I think they’re more interesting to him than me.”

Floyd barks out a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

You sit up and pull your blouse from your person. At once, you feel humiliated and it’s not because of the half-nudity. Rather, it’s because the bra you’re wearing is not pretty in the slightest. Had you known you’d be rolling around in bed with Floyd, you’d have chosen something with more lace—something that’s not nearly as bland as the one you’re currently sporting.

“Well, if it ain’t Jade, who is it?”

“Guess.”

He pouts. “Shrimpy’s not bein’ very nice, makin’ me guess. You think I got every small fry’s name memorized?”

You choke on your retort when he palms you. “I… I’ll describe him.”

“Go on. I’m listenin’.” As he says this, he undoes the button on your pants, sliding them from your legs like he’s unwrapping a gift. You’re relieved your panties are, at the very least, cuter than your bra. “Don’t let me stop ya.”

“Okay… Where do I start? He’s handsome and has an unusual sense of humor, but it’s fun because he’s genuine with it. He can be a little frightening at times, but he’s never scared me. He’s so kind and he has the oddest reasons for why he does things, but he never lies about any of it.”

“Sounds like a decent guy.”

“He’s so much more than that!”

Floyd giggles and reaches for your bra next, yanking it up to free your breasts. You feel yourself getting warmer with every second he spends staring.

“It’s not Azul, is it?”

It’s a completely reasonable guess—not funny at all—but you laugh. “No.”

Floyd huffs. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re wringin’ me out here. Who is it?”

He moves to toy with your chest, but you pull him down instead. He’s so close you’re breathing him in like he’s new perfume. “Aren’t we supposed to practice kissing? Can’t do much of that if we’re talking.”

“Guess not.”

He seals the distance then, pinning you with his body. The hand that had previously been between your thighs slithers up to squeeze your breasts. He pinches and rolls your perky nipple in an effort to elicit all kinds of explicit sounds from the depths of your throat. Floyd’s tongue flashes into your mouth and you submit without struggle, allowing your own tongue to twine around his. Your hands roam without much foresight for where they’ll inevitably end up, fingers pressing into hard lines and well-toned musculature. You settle for looping your arms around his neck as you melt into him, sighing sweetly.

When he parts, you scramble to bring him back. “Floyd—”

“‘m not goin’ anywhere,” he promises, pressing his forehead to yours. He speaks softer next, as if fearing you might shove him away and flee. “You want this, right?”

“I do. More than anything.”

“You sure it ain’t gonna mess things up with you and your special someone?”

“I…” You purse your lips.

Is now a good time? It must be. It has to be! But…

“You don’t gotta tell me. Lemme know if you change your mind. I’ll stop,” he says, burying his face between your tits. Your fingers dig into his scalp and he groans when you yank fistfuls of his hair. His breath fans across your bare skin, sending pleasant shivers through your spine all the way to your toes.

You gaze at the ceiling, heart hammering relentlessly. “Thanks.”

“Mhmmm. Don’t mention it.”

Floyd peppers your chest with kisses as if it’s an empty canvas in need of affectionate paint. One hand continues to treat your nipple as if it’s his own personal stress toy while his mouth gravitates towards your other untouched bud. It hardens with his deliberate ministrations, his tongue tracing salacious circles. You gasp when the serrated points of his teeth tease your sensitive flesh next.

“Please—” it comes out reedy and raw— “Floyd, please bite me…”

“You suuure?” he asks even though the question is more playful than serious. His fingers find your panties next, hooking around the waistband to slide them down.

“I’m so sure—very sure! Please!”

You feel his amusement reverberate through you in waves when he chuckles. He tweaks your nipple harshly, and a sharp, stuttering moan slips from your parted lips. Floyd’s mouth comes off of your other nipple with a wet pop and he licks his way up to your collarbone.

“I want Shrimpy to forget all about that other guy. Only think about me right now.”

Buoyant with bliss, you hum your acquiescence. Every part of you burns with a desire so redoubtable it could be a manifestation of its own, tangible and malleable. Shaped for sex, splayed on Floyd’s mattress, entirely in the moment. You’re at his mercy, your pulse in his maw, and it’s everything.

His bite incites primal jouissance, fierce and predatory. It’s deep enough to break skin and sting, and you respond to the pleasure-pain with a keening cry. Your fingers curl into his hair to ground yourself while blood pools to the surface. Floyd’s tongue laps at the puncture. Crimson trickles from the mark when he pulls back to observe his work, his jaw stained red.

And Great Seven does he look attractive in the most agrestal, ruddy way.

He licks his lips clean, satisfaction shimmering in those enchanting eyes of his. Now that you’re looking at them, you’ve never realized just how splendid they truly are. Gold and olive-brown cut sharp, upward-angled sockets into his skull. He’s a work of art—your Galatea brought to life.

Before you can spend any more time studying him, Floyd presses two fingers against your mouth. You open wide to receive his digits, senselessly running your tongue over them without command. He giggles at this, reaching deeper until you’re choking.

“Not nice!” you exclaim after he’s pulled his hand away, his fingers coated in your saliva.

“Hee-hee. Sorry, Shrimpy.”

Remorseless. You love him.

Your moans are hissed through grit teeth when his fingers drag along your folds, just barely slipping in to sample the warmth within. You pull Floyd in for another sloppy kiss, licking into his mouth with senseless fervor and grinding down onto his hand to chase a far-off, budding climax. Floyd’s thumb glides along your clit, pushing your hood up to reveal the pert nub beneath. He sinks his slender fingers in then, two of them pushing through gummy walls without resistance. Your eyes roll back into your head when he does this, blissful relief coursing through your bloodstream.

“Oh… Haa—fuck. Thank you.”

“So pretty,” he mumbles, lazily pumping them in and out. “You’re real pretty, you know that? My pretty Shrimpy, all mine.”

“Do you… Do you really mean that?”

“Course I do. What? You don’t think so?”

“Yes—no, I mean… I… No one’s told me that before…”

Not true, your brain interrupts, oh-so-helpfully unearthing the memory despite your attempts to stifle it. Jade did. Jade thinks so.

“They wouldn’t know pretty if she stared ’em in the face.”

“Obviously not.” Your giggle rises in pitch, sounding more like a trembling cry when he curls his fingers. “Ah!”

You banish Jade to the darkest corners of your mind, willing him and his silver-tongued flattery away. Who cares if Jade thought it first? It means the most coming from Floyd.

Floyd’s smile is fond, his eyes soft. “Obviously not,” he echoes in agreement.

He works you open like you’re a blossom preening under sunlight, his fingers plucking expertly at your strings to make you sing. You writhe beneath him, breathing hot and heavy as your stomach ties itself in knots. Floyd peppers your face with a dozen kisses before gravitating towards your neck. His teeth prick your skin in a shallow bite. The mark that’s sucked into your skin next has you hissing through grit teeth. It’s such a simple act—not nearly as pleasurable as the fingers thrust up inside you—but it still draws such a wanton moan from you.

Your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into an ocean of thoughts, imagining yourself, painted head to toe in love bites of varying severity, standing in front of a mirror to admire each one. Some could be veiled under the confidentiality of clothing, but others would be impossible to cover. Like the ones on your neck, undeniable proof of your thrilling tryst with Floyd.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your skin, needle-thin teeth catching on your shoulder. “Shrimpy’s squeezin’ my fingers suuuper tight.”

“Mm, yeah… I can’t help it. It feels—” you gasp when he presses down against your clit, those dexterous digits working you towards the bright, beautiful end— “aah… Feels so good!”

Even better now that your fantasies have finally bled into reality. You’re floating in and out of ecstasy at the perfect pace, guided by guiltless intimacy. The knots are winding themselves taut, on the verge of snapping, and you feel yourself coming undone—toes curling and lips bitten bloody while euphoria washes over you in ripples.

But then those long fingers are tugged out at once and it leaves your pussy clenching around nothing, your clit aching for attention. Tetchy and unsatisfied, your brows knitted, you lament the interruption. Your body burns and aches for proper stimulation—hungering for a release he’s so cruelly denied you.

“Fuck me. I was so close…”

“Gonna do that in a sec.”

He pulls away to shuck his pants and boxer briefs next. It’s done so fast it’s clumsy; he almost topples over in the rush. Floyd’s about to reclaim his place between your legs, but then he pauses.

“Condom,” he grumbles, a reminder more than a realization.

He leans over you to search for one amidst the junk cluttering his desk. Notwithstanding your better judgment, you grab his arm. He looks at you, and you swallow your inhibitions. Dangerous games will reward you with dangerous prizes. You know this. And yet…

“I… I wanna feel you.”

Floyd doesn’t need to be told twice. Grinning, he feels around, knocking items off in his impatience, before finally grabbing hold of a bottle of lube. He squirts a comfortable amount onto his palm and sits back to run his slick hand up his hard length. You reach down to spread yourself for his viewing pleasure, but instead he snatches your arm and flips you over onto your stomach. The change is so jarring it leaves you reeling.

“Wha—Floyd?” You crane your neck to look at him, but he pushes you back into the pillows.

“Stay there,” he says, but his voice has dropped a few decibels into something thick and husky. “Shrimpy trusts me, yeah?”

“I…do. But I wanted to look at you while—”

“Just trust me on this. I think you’ll like it.”

He rubs his palm against your flank, and you’re horrified by how easily you submit—that that’s all it takes to wheedle you into absolute obedience. With the blood rushing in your ears and your body vibrating with nervous excitement, you prop yourself on your hands and knees.

“Lemme know if it’s too much.”

“It’s okay. I can take it. Please… I’ve wanted this for so long, Floyd.”

“I can tell,” he teases, stuffing two fingers inside to open you up. The slick squelch that follows is obscene in the best way. “Shrimpy’s drownin’ my fingers. S’like an ocean.”

You bury your face in the sheets, flustered. “S-Sorry…”

“Nothin’ wrong with it. I’ve been wantin’ ya, too.” To prove this point, he seizes your hips and tugs you towards his waiting cock. It throbs against your bare cunt, and it’s so much more lewd without a rubber preventing you from feeling every prominent vein and thick inch. “I’ve always wanted you, but you never saw me.”

“You have? Do you really mean that or—”

Your question is promptly punched out of you when the fleshy head of his cock prods at your pussy, gradually pushing through rings of muscle. Inches are swallowed in slow seconds, and you suck in a sharp breath as his girth fills you. Floyd seems just as affected by the sheer bliss provided by your joined bodies, grunting behind you while your velvety heat wraps snugly around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips. Much like the stretch, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you imagined it might. It’s only awkward for the first few seconds, in which you and Floyd are both adjusting to every addictive sensation all at once.

“All good?”

You hum your approval, your head spinning. He’s inside me… And it’s not a dream.

“W-What about you?”

“Never been better,” he answers with a delirious cackle. “S’nice and soft inside. Cozy.”

He moves casually, experimental for all of one minute, before he draws back and snaps forwards. You’re pressed into the mattress when he bottoms out, the breath knocked out of your lungs in one fell swoop. Shakily, you force yourself back onto your arms. You don’t stay upright for very long, though, because the pace he adopts is brutal and unabating. As if he’s waited forever for this moment. As if you might never come back if he doesn’t pound you into the bed right now.

As if the world beyond his room is crumbling to pieces and this will be the only time either of you will ever have to love one another in solitude before horrible, heart-wrenching destruction.

A confession is so far from your mind with every sinful slap of skin on skin, and any coherent words you may have hoped to produce are replaced with loud love cries. When you fantasized about rolling around in bed with Floyd, you often imagined something soft and slow—a passionate build-up to inevitable climax. But this is nothing like that. This is raw and filthy and fast. And it’s so much better than the delusional masquerade you entertained with the phony Floyd.

Why did I ever rely on Jade in the first place? you think absently, clutching the sheets in curled fists. Floyd continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon, hunched over you as if you’re a prisoner groveling for mercy and he’s your beloved executioner.

Only rather than clean, cutthroat slaughter, you’re granted love in loads. It’s physical and sweaty and sticky. It has tears brimming your lash line and blurring your vision each time he hits all the right spots. It takes all of the complicated feelings you experienced while navigating an impossible situationship with Jade and dissolves them into nothing. Because with Jade it was wrong. It was a foolish, fickle farce. One too many meaningless trysts. A dangerous game spiraling out of control.

But with Floyd it’s right. Your world, once so off-kilter, corrects itself when he pins you down with his body, warm and toned and rough, and spears you with his cock. He’s your sweet Floyd, capriciousness and all, perfect in a way you just can’t explain.

And so you surrender to rising euphoria, strung along like fresh linens billowing in a breeze.

Amidst your own moans, Floyd’s groans, and the noisy plap of his hips against your soft ass, you make a mental note to end your arrangement with Jade at your earliest convenience. After all, you don’t need the fake when you have the real one.

I’ll miss his cooking, though.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Shrimpy?”

“No one in particul—aah!”

Floyd pinches your thigh good-naturedly. “No one at all?” His hand sweeps across your stomach next, palming the area as if he’s trying to feel himself buried in your guts. “You thinkin’ about that guy you like?”

“What if I was?”

“A damn shame for him,” he says, his hips stuttering to a halt. His hands make their rounds along your body, touring every inch of your nudity. You can’t see his face, but you can feel his searing gaze. “That guy’s not inside ya, is he?”

“Not physically, no.”

“What? Is he livin’ rent-free in Shrimpy’s head or somethin’?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Tell him to get lost. I wanna live up there.”

You giggle. “Will you pay rent?”

“Course I will.” He resumes his pace after a moment, albeit at a lazy, back-and-forth drag. You whine like a whore in heat, craving more than a slow, steady filling. “Bet that other guy isn’t even all that. Not a good rent-payer like me. Suuuper irresponsible and stuff. Late on his payments, y’know?”

“Mm, he’s perfect. Everything and more,” you mumble, your thoughts scrambled like eggs. It’s Jade you picture with your next admission even though you mean to describe Floyd. “He’s actually so charming once you—ooh—get to—haa—get to know him… He annoys me, but I don’t mind it.”

“Yeah?”

He grips your hips tighter, lifts your ass higher, and drives home in one rough thrust. His hold on you prevents you from crumpling, his fingers digging deep and leaving crescent-shaped indents in their wake. Your lashes flutter, eyes on the verge of rolling back into your skull.

“Mhm…”

“Hee-hee. Shrimpy’s so cute, falling apart on my dick… Bet that guy can’t do all of this.”

“Not at all! He can’t compare to you.”

Even though you don’t intend to, you envision Jade’s rictus grin then—the one he’d given you that night in the lounge kitchen when you challenged him to a dance. He’s so strange, but it’s a fun sort of strange. A strange that keeps you on edge, teetering on a precarious peak. He’s a deep-sea predator beneath that human veneer, cunning and crafty in spades, and he kissed you like he was in love that night.

It’s not love. It’s purely convenience, you remind yourself, stern. You like Floyd, and Jade isn’t Floyd.

“Jade—” you start to say, only to save yourself at the last minute— “Is… Mm—aah… Is Jade gonna be back soon?”

“Nah. S’just me and Shrimpy today.”

Shame sparks in your chest. What am I doing, calling out for Jade when Floyd’s here? I must be going crazy. I need to break it off as soon as possible.

You’ve been infatuated with Floyd for over a year now. One year of loyally loving Floyd. Not Jade. It’s never been and will never be Jade.

Chasing those conflictions away, you crawl out of your head to focus on the present. You push back against Floyd’s hips with bolstered determination, boring down on his dick to meet each of his wild thrusts. Within minutes, he’s all you can think of, flooding your brain like a tsunami. You’ve never felt so full and whole before—so connected. Carnal lust or romantic attraction aside, it doesn’t matter right now. Not when you’re swimming in bliss. Not when your emptiness has finally been filled.

All those tireless months of pining and hoping—it’s as if all of that was worth it when your wishes are granted in this very room. Even if you feel just somewhat clumsy with your movements, your body acting on its own accord, you’re relishing every second, sound, and sensation. So much so that you’re crying beneath him, overwhelmed beyond belief. Distantly, you hear him cooing at you, his voice a pleasant rumble.

You never want to come down from this seventh heaven, and you won’t because every moment spent with Floyd is utter rapture.

Floyd fucks you within an inch of unconsciousness, battering your slick, sensitive cunt like he intends to incapacitate you. The bedroom is filled with a sinful symphony of sounds, a litany of filth so loud you’re certain it can be heard down the hall. But that’s the last thing on your mind when the bundled feeling in your lower abdomen becomes unbearable, tightly wound and knotted. You strangle the sheets in shaking fists, tears falling freely.

And then, after leaning over you and getting as close as he possibly can, he wraps his hands around your neck. You startle.

“W-What’s wrong?”

“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?”

“Wha—no! Of course not! We’re just friends.”

“I dunno…” His fingers flex and curl inwards to apply just a little pressure. Your body stiffens, but it’s your pussy that betrays you when it clenches involuntarily. Floyd shudders against you, inhaling deeply. “You’re always smellin’ like him. Your pretty perfumes don’t do a good job coverin’ it up.”

You groan, not in the mood for this conversation. “Seriously… What is with you and smells? I’ve always smelled like me, haven’t I?”

“Can’t help it if us morays have a killer sense of smell.”

“Is it really that bothersome?”

“Would be if this was the sea.” He grips your throat with more force. Not enough to hurt you, but it has your heart spiking up into your mouth. “Guess on land it’s kinda like if you saw your special someone with another person and they were wearin’ the same shirt.”

You picture it then: Floyd with someone who isn’t you.

“Oh.”

“Yeaaah. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Then—” you’re cut off when his hands constrict, perilous like pythons— “Floyd—”

“Say you wanna smell like me instead. I’ll make you smell real nice.”

His phrasing doesn’t indicate there’s a choice in this matter, but you don’t need to waste time deliberating. Even though you don’t intend to stall, you can’t stop yourself. The question that’s been nagging at you ever since Jade shared insight on the matter—it tumbles free.

“What does smell mean to a moray? Is it—it’s like a tracker, right?”

“You’re halfway there, yeah.” His hips connect with your cushy ass, and his grip cuts into your airflow. The muscles in your neck twitch beneath his fingertips, survival instincts seizing hold. Your breath rattles in your lungs. “S’like makin’ it known. Like tellin’ everyone you’re together. Becomin’ a pair’s real special in the sea.”

A pair…

You want to ask about the significance in that statement—about the implications of togetherness and how that might apply to merfolk. Jade gave you glimpses during previous conversations, and ever since you’ve been wrangling with wanting to know more or keeping your curiosity to yourself. You could ask him, but you’re very acquainted with his smart mouth and his proclivity for stirring up unnecessary trouble. It’s better to hear it from Floyd.

But right now breathing is imperative.

“I want—need you… P-Please,” you rasp, blinking back tears.

It doesn’t hurt, but the pressure fills your head with fuzz. Combined with the agonizing drag of his dick within your walls, it feels almost freeing. Like he’s just pulled you out of your own mind to rejoice in the present with you.

“Promise you’ll be mine. Promise…” His voice wavers, and suddenly he sounds distraught. Fragile like an eroding sandcastle, he adds, “Promise you won’t look at him ever again…”

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

His hands linger for a moment longer before he releases you, content with your agreement. You inhale mouthfuls of precious, much-needed oxygen, but part of you misses the rough treatment and the feeling of his hands tightening around your throat. The idea that Floyd once held your life between his palms—that he could crush your windpipe if he so pleased—is monstrously minacious. You know you shouldn’t put your trust in Floyd’s capricious, hair-trigger behaviors, but you’ve already disregarded the risks. Safe sex be damned; you want to know love under the pressure of his thumbs, squeezed into you like he’s your only other source of air. Your savior and your star—forever your Floyd.

His lips replace his hands, stamped impatiently into your nape in bloody bites. Ribbons of warmth trickle between your shoulder blades. His hips don’t halt for a second, and it stokes the fire deep within your belly with potent insistence.

“F-Floyd, please—I’m close! I—”

“I know, Shrimpy. I gotcha.” He rubs your hip encouragingly and that’s all it takes to sweep you up in the titillating throes.

You reach your summit in the clouds with an erotic shout, your vision whiting out and arms going slack. Floyd’s groan sounds much the same when your walls clench down, and he fucks you through it mercilessly. In just a few more erratic, sloppy thrusts, in which he drives his cock as far as it can possibly go, Floyd finally empties his load deep inside. The moan that rips free from his throat is so guttural it’s nearly a growl.

You’re both so drenched in sweat, but you’re alive and vibrating with giddy, sex-drunk relief.

I love you so much, you think as you ebb away from ecstasy, pulled back like the tide.

Basking in the paradisiacal afterglow of orgasm, Floyd runs a hand through disheveled teal locks. The two of you, the sodden sheets, and even the room reeks of sex. His other hand holds you in place while he slowly ruts into you from behind, riding out the buzz in its entirety. His pelvis presses against your ass while you, knock-kneed and fucked full, drool into the pillows.

And when he slides out his spend drips from your pussy in pearly rivulets.

“Haa… Shrimpy’s the best,” he murmurs with a wicked, wild, wide-eyed smile.

You’re still panting when you come back to yourself, your head pressed into the pillow. Floyd nudges you over onto your back, and you oblige with minimal effort, lying in an exhausted sprawl. Your sight clears, color spilling in through bleary cracks.

He leans over you, assessing your hazy expression with a pleased hum. “Welcome back.”

You giggle and beckon him closer. “I’m back.”

Floyd leans down to kiss you and you reciprocate just as fiercely, your arms looping around his neck. You fall all over again, enchanted by molten kisses and wandering hands. The magic dissipates when your ringtone resounds, and you manage to tear yourself away by the third chime.

“Sorry. Let me silence it.”

“Kaaay.”

Floyd lounges on his side, the duvet draped across his hips. You crawl out of his arms to sort through the disorder on the floor. As you bend over to retrieve it, you catch him staring, his eyes following the length of your legs to the mess spattered between your thighs.

He flashes his sharp teeth at you in a broad, nonchalant grin. “It’s a pretty ass. I like what I like.”

You hold your phone up, smirking. “Pictures last longer.”

“And memories don’t, so you’d better stop by often so I won’t forget.”

“It’s a promise,” you tease, glancing at the screen as it brightens with a slew of missed messages. They’re all from Ace, and you scroll through them with mild interest. Apparently, Ace got into an argument with Grim over the pudding in the fridge. Both want it even though it has your name on it, and now Ace is being much too flattering in an effort to curry favor so that you’ll be inclined to let him have it. “He’s unbelievable…”

“Who is?”

“Ace.”

You sit on the edge of Floyd’s bed. He reads the texts over your shoulder and snorts. “Crabby tryin’ to get on your good side, huh?”

“Not sure why he’s bothering to ask, though. He steals food from me all the time. This shouldn’t be any different.”

“Maybe he likes ya.”

“As if. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah? You say that a lot.”

You crane your neck to look at him. “Do I really?”

“Mhm. If you and Jade are also ‘just friends,’ what does that make me and you?”

“I… Um. Hm.”

You watch your reflection on your darkened phone screen as it twists into something pensive. Tentatively, your fingers trace over the smooth glass. What are you and Floyd? You’re friends, but you’re also more than that. Surely, right? Friends don’t join their bodies in unholy communion. Or do they? That’s what you’ve done with Jade and you’re nowhere near romantically attached. Perhaps your relationship is some nebulous stage between friends and lovers?

Does Floyd even like me like that, or was this just a spur-of-the-moment fling?

“I…should go,” you say instead, standing up.

“Aww. But ya just got here. C’mon. Lemme get ya some water or somethin’ to eat. There’s no rush.” He reaches out for you, but you step back. His face falls. “Shrimpy…”

“Sorry. I just—it’s not your fault.” You refuse to meet his eyes as you collect your clothes from the floor, hurrying to dress yourself. “Thanks for the offer. Really, I appreciate it and this was a lot of fun. But I… I need to get back to make sure Ace and Grim don’t tear each other apart over a single cup of pudding.”

The fresh bites on your neck sting when your clothes brush against them, but nothing hurts more than Floyd’s downcast expression. You don’t want to leave, but you can’t stay and tiptoe around the answer to a question you’ve just started contemplating.

“We’ll talk later. Sorry…” You shuffle towards the door, tongue-tied and awkward. “I really did enjoy this.”

To your disappointment, Floyd doesn’t make any attempt to pursue. “See ya.”

“Yeah… See ya.”

You step out into the hall, the door shutting after you. The weight of it all comes crashing down like a disastrous surge of sea and you drag your hands over your face to stifle your regretful groan.

I messed up. I should’ve just confessed. The opportunity was right there, so why didn’t I? Why can’t I? What the hell is holding me back?

No, not a what. Rather, a who.

And you can’t bear to confront that.

Behind the door, sitting upright on Floyd’s bed, Jade musses his hair until that stray dark strand falls in its rightful place. There’s laundry to be done, and a clever cover-up must be fashioned to protect what already seems like an open secret. But right now he can’t be bothered to spring into action. Not when he’s still steeping in post-sex exhilaration, a corybantic smile etching itself onto his face.

It’s a glorious day.

“Can’t ya just dump it out if ya don’t wanna drink it?” Grim, who has spent the past three minutes observing you observing the glass vial, suggests with a harrumph. “Looks fishy. I don’t wanna drink it and I love drinkin’ stuff!”

You frown and lift it towards the window; the sun catches off the shiny surface, but its rays don’t break through murky cerulean. “Azul said I could add any part of myself to this and it would work. I added saliva, but the color went from white to this icky, impenetrable blue. It probably tastes just as bad as it looks. Gross! Now I’m not so sure I wanna uphold my end of our deal.”

“He’ll never know if you give it the slip.”

You fix Grim with a disapproving glower. “He’ll definitely know. He’s Azul.”

“I dunno what to tell ya, but if we keep chattin’ away like this we’ll miss first bell.” He hops off of the stool, lands perfectly on all fours, and struts out of the kitchen.

“Since when were you such a star student? Wait… First bell?” You gasp and dash past him. “Move, Grim! I’ll miss Floyd if I don’t hurry!”

On your way out, you tug your shoes on, taking care not to trip in your haste, and stuff the vial in your pocket.

“Jeez! Way to be a ‘star student’ and leave me to haul our heavy textbooks to Trein’s class!”

“Sorry! I’ll make it up to you at lunch! This is really important!” you call out, hurrying down the steps.

You’re breathless by the time you make it into the main building, taking in great gulps of air. A few students turn and stare, but you don’t pay them any mind as you weave through the crowded halls in search of Floyd’s classroom. You spot him then, lingering at the end of the corridor, and you hasten your gait to reach him.

“Floyd, oh, there you are! I need to talk to you. It’s about—”

“A good morning to you, too, (Name).”

Horrified, you come to a screeching halt. “Jade… Shit, I’m sorry. I thought that you—I mean, you look like Floyd from afar… Well, of course you do. What am I saying?” Inhaling a deep breath, you try again. “I don’t have time to talk. I gotta find Floyd. Also, our deal’s off. You don’t have to act like him anymore.”

“Oh my. How sudden. I wonder what brought this on.” He smiles behind a gloved fist. “Do enlighten me.”

Fidgeting from foot to foot, you glance left and right. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve been a big help, but I’ve figured it out now. It was stupid and inconsiderate of me to make you pretend to be someone you’re not. So the game’s over. We can go our separate ways and all of this—” you gesture between him and you— “will be behind us. Done and dusted. Dead and buried. Part of the past.”

Jade tilts his head, playing clueless for another second before he decides to let it click. “Ah. I suppose this means you intend to confess? In that case, please don’t let me stop you. Floyd’s already left for his class. I doubt he’s gone very far.”

You’re already pushing past him, your nerves riddled with hope. “Thanks! See you around!”

“It was an enjoyable month.”

Taking pause, you turn to look at him. Even though his hand is across his chest and he’s issuing you a cordial smile, you can’t tell if he’s being truthful. It can’t have been all that enjoyable to play such an elaborate part. Or perhaps it’s not the part but rather the delights that came with it: dinner, conversation, and companionship. If it weren’t for these unorthodox methods, you and Jade wouldn’t be nearly as close as you are now.

Somehow you’ve become friends in all of this chaos.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. It was definitely…a month.”

Before awkwardness can balloon between the both of you, you step into a sprint and disappear around the corner. Confidence swells within you. Now that you’ve emptied your mind of Jade, you can focus entirely on Floyd and your very impromptu confession.

There really wasn’t anything there after all, you think as you round another corner. I can’t believe I got worked up over something so silly, and it was completely nonexistent!

As if foretold by fate itself, a meeting strung in the stars, you notice Floyd at the end of the hall. Unable to contain yourself, you run the rest of the way to catch him. The morning bell resounds then and students heed its toll, filing into their respective classrooms. But you’re here for someone who’s so much better than your perfect attendance record, and he happens to be looking your way.

“Hey, it’s Shrimpy! Whatcha up to?”

“Morning, Floyd! Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could talk.”

He nods. “Wasn’t really feelin’ class anyways.”

“Yeah, same here!”

“So what’s up? You have somethin’ to tell me?”

“Right! Yes!”

I have to tell him. I can’t keep running away.

“It’s about that day… Um. I… First of all, I’d like to apologize for being weird and ruining the mood. I didn’t know how to explain our relationship, but I’ve sorted it out now. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be more than friends.”

Floyd blinks at you, stone-faced. That can’t be a good sign.

Endeavoring to salvage this one-sided chat, you attempt to elaborate on your previous declaration. “You asked what we were that day and I… I couldn’t give you an answer because I was scared of admitting it, and I had no idea where we’d go from there. The truth is—I really like you. A lot. I have for a while now, and if you like me I wouldn’t mind making it official.”

You’re doing fine, you tell yourself, but you’re wringing your hands and Floyd won’t stop looking at you like you’ve grown fins.

“Oh, I get it,” he says after a long moment. “So Shrimpy likes me? That right?”

You nod. Anxiety squeezes your heart in a fierce fist.

“I’m flattered. Not every day a li’l Shrimpy tells me she’s got a thing for me.” Floyd grins and stuffs his hands in his pockets. You’ve imagined this same scenario a dozen times, but your brain never accounted for how casual he’s acting. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t accept your feelings.”

“W-What?”

You…misheard him, right? He didn’t just say that, did he?

“I think you’re super cool, but that’s it.” He shrugs. “S’better stayin’ friends, ain’t it? ’Sides, you and Jade are pretty close. Not gonna lie, I thought you were a pair this whole time. Didn’t know it was this serious, though.”

Much like the blood pumping through your veins, your heart freezes over. “N-No… No, not at all! Jade and I are just friends.”

“C’mon, Shrimpy. I’m not stupid.”

“I… I don’t understand. Floyd, we… We…” You swallow encroaching tears and bolster the ebbing strength in your voice. “Did our time together mean anything to you?”

“Course it did! Still does. We’re friends. That’s not gonna change.” Floyd cards a hand through his hair and sighs. “Shrimpy, you’re great and all, but if you’re with Jade you don’t gotta lie to me. I’ve been smellin’ him on ya since day one.”

“But we’re not together!” He raises a disbelieving brow, and you groan. “I’m serious. I don’t know why I smell like him. We don’t wear the same perfumes. Wait. Does Jade even wear perfume? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about it. So maybe you’re just smelling my perfume! That has to be the reason—”

Floyd gives your shoulder a consoling squeeze. “I’m not mad or anything. S’cool if you wanna mess around with Jade. I don’t care what you do.” His face darkens with a frown. “Just don’t lie about the obvious.”

“But I’m not lying! We’re not an item or couple—whatever it’s called! I… I like you, Floyd. I always have.”

“Maybe ya shoulda figured that out before ya started lettin’ Jade mark ya.”

Shock and revulsion prickle your skin. You open your mouth to object, but every rational explanation remains jumbled. Floyd issues you a lopsided grin, which adds even more salt to an already gaping wound.

“Hey, if it makes ya feel any better, Jade’s a good guy. He’ll look out for ya. ’Sides, Shrimpy’s better off with a responsible type.” He reaches out to ruffle your hair, but you step away.

All of those times where you thought Floyd may have been courting—the flirty remarks, the perfume, the kiss, and even the sex—were those merely platonic gestures twined with friendly affection? You may have been able to believe the others, but you’re certain there’s a line between platonic and romantic. And sex must fall in the latter category. It has to. If not, was it all just temporary, fleeting fun?

Were you just an experience for Floyd and his mercurial mannerisms? A new toy for his enjoyment, intended to occupy his mind for however long you proved your worth and shelf life.

You turn swiftly on your heel, your throat closing up. “T-Thanks for hearing me out, at least,” you mutter, blinking away hot tears. “I… I’ll see you later.”

If you weren’t so devastated, you’d have commended yourself for your impeccable restraint. You manage to walk away without sparing him a single glance, but the minute you’re out of sight and earshot you’re running through the desolate halls, seeking solace in solitude. The tears come with the ache, a pain so gutting it has you near-wailing as you navigate labyrinthe passages. You hardly care if any straggling students spot you. You’re too crestfallen to fret over what others might think when they look at you.

Heartache headlines your thoughts as you stumble into a stagger, your chest heaving from the run and your excessive bawling.

I know it was stupid to have hope, but I was so positive I had a chance… It seemed that way when we slept together, so what happened? What changed? You wipe furiously at your face, but it does nothing to stop the incessant downpour. This is a mess. I never should’ve confessed. I did everything wrong. And what’s worse is he didn’t take me seriously because he thinks I’m dating his brother!

It doesn’t make any sense, but then this drastic change of heart is so characteristic for Floyd that you struggle to think of any other valid causation.

Did he get bored of me? Am I really that terrible to hang out with? You shake your head. It’s not that. It’s Jade and his stupid scent and that stupid marking and—

You feel the vial in your pocket then, straining against form-fitting fabric. Sniffling weakly, you dig it out and peer at your blotchy-eyed reflection in the glass.

I might as well see what this potion does. I have nothing else to lose, and there’s no way I can go to class looking like this.

As if your body was subconsciously aware of your decision to skip, you find yourself standing in the Mirror Chamber minutes later. Quiet and dimly lit, the room has a certain coldness to it when you venture further inside and approach the Dark Mirror. Your distressed face blinks back at you from the blank surface, and you cringe once you notice the smudges in your makeup.

“I’m such a loser,” you mutter, scrubbing at your cheeks. “Crying like a baby over some guy…”

A guy who meant the world to me. A guy who was so much more than just some guy.

You yank the cork out of the vial and, steeling yourself, chug it in one determined gulp. It goes down bitter, tainting your tongue with a foul, brackish aftertaste. Disgusted, you wipe your lips and stuff the empty glass in your pocket.

“(Name)?”

You whirl, half-expecting to find Floyd waiting to accept you with open arms. Instead, Jade stands in the doorway. His brows are knit in concern. Authentic concern, you realize. Tears overflow at the sight of him, tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks.

“I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“You are. Go away.”

Undeterred, Jade covers the distance to reach you. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but notice you seem to be in dire need of a friend.”

You force out a sardonic laugh. “Right. Because you’re just the friend I want.”

“At the very least, may I offer my condolences? I can only assume the worst after seeing the state you’re in.”

“You just did. Now leave. I don’t want to see anyone right now, especially not you.” But he isn’t offended by the hostility in your voice. Rather, he procures a handkerchief from his uniform pocket and offers it to you. Heaving a defeated groan, you snatch it and blow your nose into the soft linen. “I don’t suppose you want something in return for your kindness?”

“Not at all. If anything, I merely wish to see your happy, dry face.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll feel much better once you get lost.”

“And leave you to mourn all by your lonesome? I couldn’t possibly.”

You dab at your eyes with the sodden, snotty handkerchief. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Jade smiles and bumps hips with you. “If it’s worth anything, there is so mush-room in my heart for you.”

Your face scrunches with odium. “Ew… That’s so cheesy.” You’re reminded of Floyd when you look at him, and it fills you with another bout of anguish. Why can’t he be Floyd? You bury your face in your hands and sob. “This is the worst! I wanna disappear. Drown in the Coral Sea and get lost forever. Then no one would ever have to see me like this and I’ll never have to face Floyd again.”

“Surely you don’t mean that.”

“I do. Now leave me be. I wanna wallow in peace.” When you fail to hear his shoes clicking against tile, you peek at him through the cracks in your fingers. “It’s hopeless, Jade. Floyd doesn’t feel the same. There’s still no way for me to go home. And now I don’t even know if Azul’s potion is going to work, which means I’ll be breaching our contract!”

“Quite the series of unfortunate events, no?”

“So please just go away.”

Sighing, you press your fingertips to the Dark Mirror’s warped surface and admire the ripples spreading outward from where your palm rests. It’s almost hypnotic, drawing you in with its alluring opacity. You lean closer to inspect the cloudy mirage, placing both hands against it, but that proves to be a grave mistake. Tugged in by some invisible force, you stumble and fall through. You don’t have time to scramble to safety, for there’s a blinding flash of light and then you’re engulfed in smothering silence.

You feel it first—the weightless cradling of waves—and when you open your eyes a stunning seascape greets you. The sandy floor and colorful coral reefs extend in endless stretches. Schools of fish pass overhead in a mosaic of hues. You gape at your mystical surroundings, realize you’re underwater right as the awe settles in, and hurry to swim to the surface. But when you try to kick your legs out, a tail moves instead, sloppily propelling you upwards. You somersault and flail like you’re falling, but you aren’t drowning. In fact, you can breathe.

Whoa. This is so strange. How exactly do I swim?

It takes an awkward minute for you to get a hold of your bearings, but once you do you take stock of your newfound mer anatomy. Your hands are webbed, fingers curling into sleek, sharp claws, and fins protrude from your arms and back. They flutter like fine skirts in the current. Your tail is just as fetching; speckled with red and pink shades, it matches the coloration found on your other fins.

“So that’s what Azul’s potion does,” you mutter, flexing your tail. “Amazing…”

You feel along your body for scales and gills, yelping when your fingers brush over the latter. They’re soft and sensitive, shuddering in the current.

I’m a mer…

It finally sinks in, and you roll around in the sand, whooping and shouting in excitement.

“I’m a mer! How cool is that?!”

You push off from the sea floor, testing your new tail with a few clumsy strokes. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t take very long for you to learn the motions. Within minutes you’re gliding through the water like a bullet. You hug the bottom of the ocean, running your fingers through the sand as you swim expert circles around the same rock formation.

Suddenly, your broken heart doesn’t feel so cumbersome anymore. Your tears mix in pelagic waters, but after touring your vast surroundings for a while you can’t even tell if you’re still crying. While keeping up with the current, you swim past an octopus who drags itself across the sandy floor, its muddy-orange tentacles curling like snakes.

“So pretty,” you whisper, smiling sadly. “I wish Floyd was here…”

It hurts.

There’s no way to circumvent the pain without further opening the emotional lacerations left by rejection and misunderstanding. If you had smelled like yourself, would he have accepted your confession? Would the two of you be walking through the halls, holding hands and chatting like a couple? Or would it have played out the same regardless of Jade’s involvement with you?

If Floyd never loved you to begin with, that would mean all of your practice confessions and subsequent embarrassment were for naught. Maybe Jade was right and this entire thing was nothing more than an amusing spectacle.

Thanks a lot, Jade, you think, seething. Instinctively, you scrub your tears away even though there’s no point to it when you’re surrounded by water. How did I even start smelling like him in the first place? We didn’t wear the same shirt or anything like that… Ugh. Morays are so confusing.

But, gripe and whine as you might, there’s nothing you can do to change an immutable fact: Floyd does not love you.

And it really hurts.

You know the sadness will soon subside and, months later, you’ll look back on this very moment and laugh about your misfortune. Despite that, the passage of time and its healing properties don’t provide an iota of relief.

Don’t think about it anymore. You turn over on your back and float through the water. Since I’m here, I should gather the supplies Azul wanted.

You rack your brain for the list and come up empty. It’s then when you realize Azul never shared this list with you and that, had you visited him prior to your emotional tragedy, he likely would have told you.

“Damn it! Now how am I supposed to get what he wants?” you complain, thrashing your tail as if it’s your legs and you’re trying to throw a tantrum. “I could guess… Or maybe he wants a little of everything?”

You attempt to put yourself in Azul’s head, concentrating on all of the spell ingredients you’ve learned in alchemy class, but none of them seem to fit what Azul might be seeking. After all, anyone can acquire seaweed and shells and mer’s tears. Azul must be after the scarcities of the sea. What those scarcities could be, you haven’t the faintest inkling.

The sea floor slopes down, and you follow the dip towards what looks to be the yawning mouth of an underwater grotto. It certainly looks so with its massive stalactites and stalagmites, which reminds you of the crooked maw of a beast. It would have been a foreboding sight if you came down here with a limited supply of oxygen and scuba fins, but you’re a mer and nothing can startle you. Not even the depths at which you exist.

You poke your head inside the opening. Before you can investigate any further, though, a shadow passes overhead. It slips through the water like a silent assassin. You’re not unnerved when you track the length of the perimeter, looking to and fro for the mysterious figure you caught in your peripheral, but the longer you spend looking the quieter your surroundings become.

The fish scatter.

And then terror descends, only he’s a familiar one. He’d be a sight for sore eyes if he wasn’t such an eyesore.

“You’re living up to your surname.”

He smiles, teeth glinting. “My, my. Aren’t you just tickled pink?”

“Which is weird because all I see is red when I look at you.”

“Is that so? The depth at which we’re at swallows most vibrancy, and yet you remain wonderfully bright. Are you sure you’re not a fallen star?”

You fix him with a nasty glare, but it does nothing to deter him. “Seriously… Why are you here?”

He circles you, his serpentine body winding slowly. “Would you believe me if I told you I came to check on you?”

“Depends. What’s your reason for checking on me?”

“As I’m sure you know, Azul is not partial to insolvency.”

You slide past him, smacking him with your caudal fin. “Good to know I’m so cherished.”

“I wouldn’t dare let a dear friend drown. I’ve heard drowning is very miserable business for humans.”

“More miserable than a broken heart?”

He catches up to you. His size easily overtakes you in length and strength, marking him as a formidable predator. Even with your claws, you can’t compete with his pointed teeth, sleek, sturdy build, and razored fins. He’s a natural hunter, whereas you feel like more of an ornamental fish in comparison.

“Depends. Will you recover from death?”

“I’ve spent so much time with you, so I’d say it’s possible.”

“And I was ready to save you should you find yourself in peril.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s about as comforting as a blatant lie.”

A few beats pass between the both of you. You don’t try to fill the silence, too busy fawning over your aquatic surroundings to bother. Jade analyzes you with furtive glimpses.

“I’m aware our deal is void and that I’m no longer your Floyd…” He swims closer, nudging you with his shoulder. “May I be your Jade instead? You can be my grouper.”

“Your what?”

“Many mages believe transformation potions provide insight into what species you may have been if you weren’t born in your current form.”

“So you’re saying, if I was a mer like you and Floyd, I’d be a…grouper? Is that what I am?”

“A strawberry grouper, to be precise. Very fitting, is it not?”

“Would Floyd like me better if I had been born a grouper instead of a human?”

Jade laughs. You swat at him in flustered retaliation. “It has nothing to do with species.”

“It has everything to do with species,” you snap with a scowl. “Wasn’t the mermaid princess forbidden from pursuing a relationship with her human prince?”

“That’s true, yes. Although I fail to see your point, considering it worked out in the end.”

“What I’m saying is—if we were both mers, maybe it’d be easier.”

“I suppose it would be considerably easier to foster a deeper bond if you lived in the sea alongside us, but I’m afraid love doesn’t always work like that.”

“How would you know?”

Jade gazes heavenward, and for the first time you see sadness in his sharp, intelligent eyes. “I’ve fallen in love with the moon and she is forever out of my reach, so I know what it’s like to wish on something that may never happen. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if the dismal nature of my situation would change if I had been the singular star in her universe. Perhaps then she would finally see me.” He glances at you and attempts a smile. “There are galaxies of stars up there, but the star she fancies happens to shine brighter than me.”

Oh… So he does know what that feels like.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. I guess it just felt like the right thing to say.” Your shoulders rise in a weak shrug. “The moon is impossible, Jade. Your romance is doomed.”

“All the more reason to appreciate her.”

“Why haven’t you given up?”

Jade swims ahead, humming his contemplation. “There are astounding amounts of everything in this world. There will always be plenty of fish in the sea—just as there will always be plenty of humans on land. But there is only one of her. So even if she doesn’t look at me, even if our romance has been doomed from the start, I will never stop loving her. She’s the only one in my universe.”

“Huh… That’s a beautiful way to put it. If it’ll help, I can act like her and you could practice your confession.”

“We’ve come full circle. Perhaps a confession wouldn’t hurt… Ah. Forgive me for adding to your despondency with my own woes.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” But then you reflect on his familiar phrasing and a sneaking suspicion crawls into your head. Unwilling to confront it, you change the subject. “So what’s the real reason you’re here? To watch me struggle to collect all of these unnamed things for Azul?”

“I considered that, but it would be much too cruel of me to subject you to such ridicule.”

“You’re an asshole. Just tell me what I’m supposed to get.”

With a chuckle, Jade rattles off every item. You recognize some of them—pearls, starfish, a Great White’s tooth—but the rest are resources you’ve never even heard of.

“Noctiluca… What’s that?”

“Bioluminescent algae.”

“Oh. Are you sure we’ll be able to find all of this stuff? Some of it sounds, like, super rare.”

“It’s possible. With me as your guide—”

“You’re really going to stick around?”

“And let you swim right into the maw of a predator? I’m not monstrous.”

“You sure you’re not that predator?”

Jade swims ahead, craning his neck to eye you hungrily. His lengthy tail curls around you and squeezes playfully. “Shall I hunt you now and we can determine which of us is the true predator?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“It’s simply a hypothetical.”

“Why would we even hunt each other in the first place?” You duck down to sift through the silt for shells or, if you’re lucky, a shark’s tooth. “I thought we had something.”

“Do we?”

It’s too late for you to take that back. “We have mutualism,” you correct yourself, pulling a palm-sized pink conch from the sand.

“Some might call that friendship, (Name).”

“Friends with you? As if. You’d trade me for this shell just because it’s funny.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re worth more than one, at least.” Jade joins you on the seabed, his larger, webbed hands searching alongside yours. “Your companionship is invaluable to me.” His hand bumps yours in the sand, blackened fingertips twining with yours.

“You know… Floyd told me something.” You grip his hand tightly to prevent him from retreating. With the way he perks up, muscles stretched taut with anticipation, you don’t think he intends to flee. “He said you’re awfully touchy with me and that you’re not usually like this.”

“You provide me with the most entertaining reactions. Besides—” his voice lowers for effect— “was touch not the foundation of our deal?”

“Not anymore.” You release his hand from your hold and dart forwards. “Although I guess it was kinda pointless. All of that just to be rejected by Floyd in the end.” You round on him once he’s within your proximity, prodding his chest with a claw. “Because now he thinks I’m dating you. Apparently I smell like you. I have no idea what that could mean, but it obviously isn’t a good thing if it’s one of the reasons Floyd turned me down.”

“Plenty of mers scent their partners. It’s territorial—a means of proving to others that they’re a bonded pair. It’s also convenient when they need to locate their beloved in a crowd.”

The conch falls from your hands, floating back to its resting place on the sandy floor. Shocked, you pin him with a wide-eyed stare. “You… You’ve been…scenting me?”

He nods.

“On purpose?”

“Just for fun.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. So Jade sabotaged your chances with Floyd. Jade did. All for fun. Jade was scenting you on the sly. For fun. Fun!

Now you’re really viewing him in scarlet.

“Jade Leech, I’m going to kill you!” You lunge at him, blunt teeth bared and claws out. He opens his arms to receive you, smiling all the while. “You did that on purpose—to prevent me from getting with Floyd! What the fuck?!”

You crash into him, and the impact sends the two of you tumbling through the water in a tangle of limbs. He indulges in this one-sided snafu, albeit without the hostility you’re so clearly demonstrating. Jade wraps himself around you to hold you still while you attempt to gouge his eyes.

Soon, the scrap mellows out into a struggle for escape. You try to slip out of his constrictive grasp, but every time you think you might have attained freedom he tightens his hold on you. Eventually, with no other way out, you submit, deflating in his arms like a popped balloon.

“If you wanted a hug, you could have asked. There’s no need to be so circuitous about it.”

“The last thing I want is a hug from you! Now let go of me!” He allows you to squirm out of his coils. You swim in circles, which you now realize is the mer equivalent of pacing. “I can’t believe you. What did you have to gain from any of this? ‘Just for fun,’ my foot! You just wanted to ruin my life like the stupid, asshole eel you are!”

“I was hoping to cushion you after the inevitable.” Jade tilts his head at you, feigning sympathy. “Did you really think Floyd would have reciprocated? You heard him yourself. He considers you a friend. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Cushion me? The only thing you did was make me smell like I rolled around in the cushions with you!” You swipe at him, but he moves away on reflex. “If Floyd sees me as a friend, why would he sleep with me?”

“So that’s why our room smelled so thickly of you.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Then don’t ask dumb questions.”

He’s the worst, you think, repeating it like a mantra. The worst. The worst. The worst.

But then he’s the only one who chases after you even when you push him away.

At that, you laugh. Jade blinks at you, startled by your sudden shift in attitude.

“This is a mess,” you bewail, shaking your head. “Out of all the people at NRC, I can’t believe you’re the one seeing me like this.”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Shut up.”

Jade chuckles. “You may find it undesirable, but to me it’s quite the charming trait. Even at your worst, tears and all, you’re still yourself. It’s what I admire most about you.” He approaches you, minding the icy vitriol in your scowl, and cups your cheek. “After all, did we not agree to be a mess together?”

You meet his mismatched stare, openly admiring his well-sculpted body and the patterns striped along his arms and tail. There isn’t an ounce of Floyd to his mannerisms. From the way he carries himself to the purr of his voice to the irritating quips he loves to spout, he’s Jade. And you wouldn’t have him any other way. He is your friend, and denial isn’t enough to convince you otherwise of this dysfunctional, disorganized friendship.

Sighing, you tear your gaze away. “We’re a mess, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with smelling like you! That’s such a dirty trick!”

“I can be dirtier if it pleases.”

“It does not please! Start counting your blessings so I can properly kick your ass!”

“I wish you luck in that endeavor,” he says, offering you a toothy grin before turning away and propelling himself towards the surface.

You watch him go, debating whether it’s worth it to pursue him. This feels like the beginning of another game, but you can’t calculate the danger level. It’s the ocean; the possibilities are just as vast.

You’re an enigma, Jade Leech. I’ll never understand you.

Leaving all thoughts of Floyd and your shattered heart on land—stowed away in the shadows of the Mirror Chamber—you accept his proposal for a chase. He doesn’t have to tell you he’s pleased when you zip after him, weaving through the tight crevices and openings in hulking rock formations. Your shadow eclipses colorful coral reefs and tall seagrass. Jade moves much smoother and quicker than you, sensing all of the twists and turns before they even come up.

Of course he’d be a natural, you think, impressed with his graceful slither. He grew up in these waters playing tag. He and Floyd have probably chased each other through places just like this one hundreds of times.

Still, you aren’t about to let your inexperience get in the way of capturing him.

Between your on-off hunt and collecting ingredients for Azul, in which Jade goads you into continuing the chase when you least expect it, time passes above. You’re not sure how far into the day you are, as your surroundings hardly change beneath the surface, but you forget all about it when you swim through a kelp forest in hopes of finding a starfish. Even with your heightened mer senses and predatory assets, you keep close to Jade as the both of you glide through strands of kelp.

“When I was an elver, I used to believe starfish were stars who fell from outer space.”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. Everything seems much louder in tranquility. “Oh. Uh. Why’s that?”

“My mother often told us that merfolk who have passed on become stars in the sky and that there are times in which those same stars yearn for the sea. But they can never hope to return naturally, for they are bound to the sky. Thus, they force themselves to fall, lose their shine when they land in the ocean, and become sea stars.”

You keep your eyes glued on the stretching forest ahead. “That’s neat. I probably would’ve believed that story if I was a mer. We tell all kinds of stories about merfolk where I’m from.”

“Is that so?”

“Merfolk don’t exist in my world, so they make for great legends.”

“A world in which merfolk are nonexistent… How fascinating.” Jade gazes at you, his hand twitching towards yours. Rather than acting on his innermost desires, he curls his hand into a fist and it hangs limply at his side. “You must have been over the moon to have met Floyd.”

“And you and Azul!” you add with a smile. “And I have you to thank for teaching me all about moray mers.”

“I’d be happy to teach you more, should you be willing to learn…”

Jade’s looking at your lips next. The both of you are so close. Just a little closer and you could…

“Hey, I think I see a starfish!” You hurry ahead before the tension can become any more magnetizing.

Do not make him your rebound, you lambaste while retrieving the star-shaped creature. If you had legs, you’d kick some sense into yourself. Just because he looks like Floyd doesn’t mean he is Floyd.

You bring the starfish back to Jade, who bottles it in a bubble and whisks it away with a flick of his wrist. You’re not sure where any of these items are going or how he’s keeping track of them, but as long as they’re gathered you aren’t going to question it. Magic works in mysterious ways, or so you’ve determined after spending a year of your life in Twisted Wonderland.

From there, you return to your place at Jade’s side, albeit with a healthier distance than before, and exit the kelp forest. You scan the vast vicinity as if you might find something unusual amidst all of this blue. It reminds you of every Floyd fantasy you’ve ever had—the ones in which you were living happily ever after in the sea. As ideal as those delusions were, you realize now that they were just as impossible as Jade’s infatuation with the moon.

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” you admit, to which Jade hums his acknowledgment. “What would I do if Crowley was able to send me home? How could I choose between my loved ones there and my loved ones here?”

“Perhaps you’ll never have to choose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Supposing the headmage is shirking his investigation… Well, that would certainly eliminate the difficulty of choice.”

You laugh. “The first magicless student to graduate from Night Raven College. What a headline.”

“Sensational news,” he adds in a dramatic tone.

“As if the illustrious NRC and the oh-so-kind Headmage couldn’t get any popular.”

Jade chuckles. “Have you thought that far ahead?”

“What? About the future?” You slide into a somersault while Jade swims above you. He stares down at you as you spin yourself dizzy. “Don’t want to. I have no idea where I’ll be after graduation or what I’ll do. It kinda scares me.”

“You’re more than welcome to lean on me should you ever require my assistance.”

“What’s that thing Azul always says? Pay the heavy toll to cross the bridge? I’d like to graduate debt-free, thank you very much.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You blink up at him, shocked by his benign declaration. After a moment of floating aimlessly on your back while he swims overheard, you giggle. “Come on. Be real, Jade. That’s impossible.”

“Is it? You’re a mermaid, are you not?”

“Yeah, but that’s temporary. Besides, a deal like that is way too mutualistic. We’d just seem like obligations to one another.”

“Must it be transactional?”

“What else would it be?”

“A friendly favor.”

“I don’t trust that… Somewhere along the line I’ll get trapped in a scam.”

“And I will rescue you.”

You roll your eyes and turn over on your stomach, propelling yourself forwards in hopes of leaving him and this conversation behind. He mirrors your slow pace, twisting himself to loop around so that you’re above and he’s below. He waves. You groan.

He just won’t quit, will he?

“Okay, let’s be hypothetical. Say I accept your help for the future. What would you want in return?”

“What indeed?”

“I doubt you’ll want a lifelong taste-tester.”

He shakes his head, soft, teal locks swaying with the motion. Bathed in dappled light, he looks breathtaking. Too good to be true. An echo of the supernal, enchanting and arresting in that weird, whimsical way you’ve grown to appreciate.

He’s so annoying.

“Then what, Jade? Stop being obtuse.”

He smiles, sharp features softening, and says, “I would like to continue being your friend.”

“That’s all?”

He nods. “That’s all.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, what do you think I might want?” He reaches for you, his hands running up your arms to tug you closer. “If I asked for your hand, would you give it?”

You float above him, not quite chest to chest yet. “Marital mutualism, huh?”

“It’s cost-effective and comes with many benefits.”

“Like?”

“You could be my taste-tester indefinitely. I would cook for you every day. All of your favorite foods, and you can share your critique.”

“You’re not selling it,” you mutter, impassive.

He pulls you within kissing distance. “You can continue to hone your techniques with me.”

You open your mouth to retort, embarrassment scraping at your throat, but a distant twinkle in the dimming depths distracts you. There’s another flash of light and then, seconds later, dozens of lights surround you. You swim out of his grasp to explore this curiosity, your confusion segueing into excitement once you spy hundreds of bright tendrils. Moon jellyfish illuminate the area, casting you and Jade in bewitching bioluminescence. You whirl to view all of them at once, your eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s amazing…” you whisper.

Jade observes you from where he lurks in the shadows below, a wistful look in his stare. It adds deceptive age to his youthful features, but you don’t notice that. Bold and brave, you venture deeper into the fray, weaving through the fantastical cluster with finesse. The jellyfish hang suspended in the gloom, and they remind you of little lanterns the further you swim. This sight is a treasured rarity—something you’d never be able to experience firsthand like this if you were viewing it through thick aquarium glass.

This view is breathtaking! I can’t believe Jade and Floyd grew up in such a wonderful place.

On any other day, the boundless sea may have terrified you if you were reading about it in a textbook or watching divers’ found footage. But right now you’re in awe of these magnificent creatures as they drift in calm currents. Your first visit in the Coral Sea had been on a strict time crunch, and you hadn’t gotten the chance to explore any further than the grounds of the Atlantica Memorial Museum. The second visit had been one of leisure, if only because you were no longer arranging gambles with Azul in an effort to free the anemones. And now you’ve returned, equipped with fins and the promise of unforgettable sights.

And Jade’s with you.

He was there for your previous times, too, his presence mostly unremarkable. While you were loving Floyd from afar, he was there. You’ve always wondered why he stayed and entertained your mischief. You’re not anyone’s dream girl; you’ve never been the first choice, and that’s a part of life you’ve made peace with.

When you’re with Jade, you’re made the first and last choice. The only choice.

“Jade, are you seeing this? It’s so pretty! You’re—” you turn and almost bump heads. He’s so close and— “glowing…”

“My, my. Is that a bona fide compliment?”

“No. I’m serious. You’re glowing!”

He’s something of an angler with his mesmerizing markings. The patterns on his body are bright with a shocking luminosity, so radiant that you lose all interest in the jellyfish. You’re transfixed by him, and it’s purely instinct when you seize his hands to inspect them. He shrinks away, diffident.

“Ah. So it would seem… Forgive me for outshining the jellyfish.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re being weird.” Releasing him, you orbit him like he’s the sun and you’re a spellbound planet. He continues to pack himself into something small. “Are you not supposed to glow?”

“This is a perfectly normal facet of moray mer behavior.”

“So then what’s up? You’re avoiding me.” It hits you then, and a wide grin cuts into your cheeks. “Are you…embarrassed?”

Jade flushes up to his fins. You didn’t think it was possible, but the intensity at which he glows increases. “I fear I may have underestimated my own biology.”

“This is new! Jade Leech acting shy? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

He forces a hollow chuckle. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

“What was?”

“This is the culmination of any mer’s attraction.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. “Wait. Is this—does this mean you…”

“When mers wish to mate or attract a mate, they… Well, to be forthright, we glow. Floyd and I are bioluminescent by nature, but this glow is different. Ah, but that much is now apparent…”

You stare at him in all of his coruscating glory. “You want to mate with…me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, you’re serious,” you murmur, breathless. Hesitantly, you approach him. “Then can I—may I take a closer look?”

“Please do as you see fit. Body language can’t possibly get any more candid than this now, can it?”

You giggle. “Seems pretty treacherous, too.”

“To think biological imperative would be my undoing…”

Your hand splays across his bicep, tracing the luminous bands wrapped around it. He really is a magnificent merman.

One more game, you promise yourself, restraint as thin as Jade’s lukewarm lies, and we’ll never play again.

“I like it. This is the most honest you’ve ever been with me.”

“Charming, is it not?”

“Very.”

He gathers you in his arms, and you mold yourself to him like you’ve done so many times in the past. You’re taken to the seafloor next, lowered onto the sand amidst wavering seagrass while he presses his pelvis to yours. You scrabble for a handhold on his broad shoulders, arching up into him when he rocks his hips. His tail winds around yours, and he anchors himself to you at the bottom of the sea. Above you, jellyfish swarm. Bulbous and bright, they backdrop Jade like a velvety void of stars and provide enough spotlight for you to see every inch of him. Although with just how much he shines, you wouldn’t even need the jellyfish.

If anything, they just make this tryst even more quixotic than it already is.

“After this—”

You start to speak, but you’re soon silenced when he fits his lips against yours, viciously venereal. Jade’s tongue slips past your parted lips, tangling around yours in a kiss that lasts far too long. Without the need for oxygen, neither of you separates. You throw your arms around him and kiss like you’re starved. Bubbles rise from your joined mouths, produced between gasps and groans. His teeth click against yours, and after minutes of canoodling you finally manage to yank yourself away.

Jade surges forward for another kiss, but you block him with your hand. “H-Hold on…”

“Is everything all right?”

“What will we be after this?”

“What would you like to be?”

You grab his face in both hands and hold him still. Your thumbs brush the markings stamped into his cheekbones. Jade trills at your touch, gills fluttering. A tiny heartbeat thrums beneath your fingertips.

“I… I’m not sure. Is it worth it to label our—this? Whatever this is?”

“Our mess. How does that sound?” His hand covers yours, pulling it away to hold it. “An exclusive dalliance between two.”

Friends with benefits, you think, every sense delirious. Desire feels hotter and heavier than it’s ever been, a puissant swirling in your stomach. You wonder if the potion altered your brain chemistry in some way—temporarily rewired your human instincts to suit that of a mer’s. That’s way too dangerous.

“And you’ll be yourself. You’ll be Jade, right?”

“I wouldn’t be anyone else, my dearest.”

“Let’s not go too far,” you warn, laughing. “Thin ice.”

“Is ‘my dearest’ not to your liking?” He leans in to bestow a chaste kiss to your throat, nuzzling the area right at the juncture between shoulder and neck. “I find it most fitting.”

“It’s…not the worst thing someone’s called me.”

He draws away, his eyes narrowed. “Not the worst? Others call you by delightful endearments?”

“Hmm? Jealous you’re not first?”

“Quite.” A scary smile curves his lips up. “So I’ll resolve to be the first by ridding myself of those inconsequential barnacles who think it wise to stick to you.”

“Wooow. How fearsome. But I’m just kidding. No one’s called me anything like that before…”

“So I’m the first?” he asks, proudly puffing his chest out.

“Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want.”

“Gloat I shall. It’s tremendously gratifying to be your first.” Unlike his usual smiles, this one is pure and jubilant. There are no secrets concealed within, nor does he hide his teeth. “How fortunate I am to be here with you. To have met you. To bask in you…”

His eyes flutter shut as he grinds against you with more force, and you hiss out a soft moan when his slit, sticky with slick, slides against yours. Jade sighs, digging his claws into the sand to ground himself above you, and slips into a slow, gentle pace. You study his contorting features as he rubs himself against you, his brows furrowing and mouth dropping open in a tiny ‘o’ shape.

“You’re so sensitive,” you remark, toying with his quivering gills. Your fingers dip inwards to feel the spongy filaments, and he shudders through a low whine.

“Ah, yes… Mm, I suppose…I am.” His yellow eye is alight with lust when he cracks it open to peer at you. “I confess I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You shouldn’t push it any further than you already have, for you know the dangers that accompany the truth. You shouldn’t instill false hope in Jade when he’s already so hopeful, and you definitely shouldn’t play his game when you’re very aware of what waits for you at the end.

You shouldn’t, but you do.

“I can tell. I’ve only touched you here, but you’re already unraveling.”

“Then allow me to return the favor.”

You squeal when his claws drag along your gills, his touch careful despite his intentions. When he looks at you next, it’s as if he’s readying himself to devour you. He curls his fingers like an expert and you writhe beneath him, your lips parting in muted moans. Flustered, you attempt a glare, but it falls short.

“Now we’re a rightful match.”

You giggle between gasps. “Not fair… I don’t know mer anatomy like you do!”

“Would you like an experiential lesson?”

“Is that what we’re going to call this?”

“We could…” Jade moves based on vehement instinct, his hips colliding with yours. You throw your head back when his slit brushes against yours once more. It’s soft and squishy, entirely hairless. “If it were up to me, I’d prefer something far less technical.”

“Coitus isn’t doing it for you?”

He laughs. “I want to become a pair, if only for today, and make love to you.”

“‘Make love’ sounds a little…”

Jade searches your face for the underlying meaning in unspoken words. You try to hold eye contact, but your gaze wanders to the jellyfish above. His sigh draws your attention. “I understand. Making love would imply a romance that has not yet come to fruition.”

Even now, I’m trying to run away, you realize. What am I so afraid of?

Should you yield to his wishes? Should you be impetuous and play another dangerous game? You’ve agonized over similar questions before, weighing right and wrong on your internal scale, and the answer has always remained the same: You shouldn’t, no matter how tempting it may be. Because to play these games, you must be willing to tango with trouble.

I’m the worst at making good decisions and the best at making bad decisions. I really should work on flipping those…

“Just for today,” you concede with a grumble, “we’ll become a pair.”

Whether or not you come to regret it, playing pretend has always been your and Jade’s favorite pastime. That will never change.

“My, my. Aren’t you impressionable?” he jests with a coprophagous grin.

“Just shut up and kiss me, you stupid, asshole eel.”

And he does just that, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that’s all twisting tongues. You melt alongside him like sorbet in the sun, your tails braiding as one. There’s catharsis in crawling out of your head to focus on the present, where it’s just you and Jade in this silent sea of jellyfish. You push rationality and sorrow aside, favoring carnal delights instead, and entangle yourself in another tantalizing tryst. You kiss and bite in equal measure, digging your claws into his shoulders while he marks you, just as ferociously proprietorial.

Your lips are bitten puffy in the aftermath; you taste blood in your mouth, so you lick your lips clean of the substance. You bring him down to bite into his neck, hoping to match your bite with the ones he’s previously left on you, but he stops you.

“Dangerous,” he rasps, rolling his hips until something foreign sprouts between your bodies, the tip prodding at your own slit. You gasp and arch towards him. “Our blood is—mm—it’s not safe…for consumption.”

“Really?” you ask, not believing him for a second.

“Truly. Would I lie about that?”

“Coming from you, yes, you absolutely would.”

“I’m being truthful this time.” You roll your eyes at this time, and he elaborates: “Our blood is harmful to many mammals, especially humans. The tiniest amount could kill you. Even if your teeth may not be sharp enough to pierce my skin and you’re currently a mer, I wouldn’t want to risk it.

“Thought you would.” He raises an eyebrow, so you add, “You love risk.”

“Not if said risk involves endangering you. I care about you, (Name).”

You gaze sidelong at the sprawling seafloor. “R-Right…”

“If you were to ingest even a fraction of my blood, you’d suffer dreadful muscle cramps. I’m certain you value your life to some degree, yes? A bound heart would be most painful. Besides, I’m more fond of the risk with long-term consequences. Risks you neglect to see coming are intoxicating.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like you.” You giggle and run your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, rumbling with amusement. “So what are these ‘long-term consequences’ you love so much?”

In reply, he simply smiles.

“You look so creepy!”

You give his hair a punishing tug. That thing that had been poking you earlier—it wriggles free from the slit that once confined it. Jade lifts himself off of you so that you can view it. Thick and tapered, lined with an odd set of nubs, his cock is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You react on impulse, curiously wrapping your webbed hand around it. It twitches at the contact, curling into your palm as if seeking a fleshy embrace. You startle, eyes blown wide.

Jade sucks in a sharp breath, his jaw clenched tight. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s…different. A good type of different!” You stroke him and watch the unique appendage squirm. “So this is it… Interesting. I never would’ve imagined this is what it looks like. And it moves as if it’s got a mind of its own!”

“Haa… I’m pleased to have shocked you.”

“You always do. Now what other tricks do you have in store?”

“Plenty. That I can assure you.”

You wonder if you should fear the implications of the plenty he’s mentioned, but those worries are knocked out of your head when he lowers himself on top of you. His cock slides against your slit. Your heart pumps into overdrive as you anticipate it, your body burning with a new sort of itch. Jade traces two fingers along your lips before spreading them in a slow, deep thrust. You thrash and buck up towards his hand.

“Don’t drag this out… Please, Jade, I want it—”

“How badly?”

You groan. “I hate you. I’m not going to say it.”

“Then you won’t receive it.”

“Please? What happened to friendly favors?”

“That doesn’t apply here.” His smile is so serrated it could slice you. “So I’ll ask once more—how badly do you want it?”

You mumble a desultory reply.

“You’ll have to speak up, my dearest.”

“I want it more than anything.”

“More than what?”

You shoot him a scary scowl. “I’m not saying it.”

“I can wait.” For the sake of being himself, he adds a third finger. It’s not enough, and every digit rests still and shallow inside. You cry out in displeasure. “More than whom, (Name)?”

“You’re so mean! I won’t say it!”

“C’mon, Shrimpy. You can do it…” Your walls flutter around him, and he whistles and withdraws his fingers. “Attagirl. Now say it and I’ll give it to ya.”

I’m going to kill him.

You have more energy to resist, but you’re too impatient to play the long game. So you fall victim to the act just as you have in the past. “Fine! Okay! I want it more than Floyd! I want you more than him. I… I want you inside me. You, Jade. Not Floyd.” With a huff, you add, “There. I said it. Does that satisfy you?”

“Oh, very much so.”

He thumbs at your hips, adjusting himself only slightly so that the tip of his cock is kissing your slit. You pull his ear fins in admonishment.

“Asshole eel.”

“Gorgeous grouper. The prettiest lady I’ve ever seen, even in obscenity,” he murmurs, opening his mouth at you.

Comprehending the message, you gape right back.

Unlike your original body, your mer form doesn’t require much preparation. It’s an odd thing, but when your gummy walls swallow more and more of that peculiar cock as it’s eased in you begin to think you were designed for sex. This form possesses the impossible flexibility you lack as a human, your slit suited to take the monstrosity that is his member even without the foreplay. You steal glances between your joined bodies and Jade’s face as it shifts through the stages of pleasure. He almost collapses on top of you once he’s fully sheathed inside, his grip on you so tight that his claws cut into your skin. The sting is but a whisper amidst the sheer fullness settled within your stomach.

“You—” he bows his head, groaning lowly— “truly are a dream…”

You throw your head back, whining when he hits a certain spot bundled within. You’d marvel at his ability to reach those areas if you weren’t already so overwhelmed with ardor. His movements are sloppy while he pursues the proper pace, filling you like it’s second nature. All you can do is hold on to his shoulders and revel in the sensations of this new body. When his hips connect with yours, it’s as if puzzle pieces click together. As if the two of you were made for this moment and every other one that’s come before it, a perfect combination reaction. As if, rather than Floyd, it was Jade who was meant to fill the cavern in your heart all along.

A dream…

It’s not just your presence that’s comparable to a dream. It’s the situation and the scenery—the players and their motivations who make the dream come alive, even if it’s built on physical attraction and lies. You wouldn’t call yourself an actor, for an actor is able to separate themself from their role, and you wouldn’t view Jade in that way either. You can’t. Not when he’s above you, every bodily, emotional truth on full display.

You’re just yourself, as you’ve always been, and Jade is Jade. There aren’t any roles to act out here at the bottom of the sea. No need for either of you to pretend to be people you’re not. No need for the phony Floyd to play a parody of a love that will never come to florescence.

If you keep saying such heartfelt things, I’ll fall.

You pull Jade down into another hungry kiss, to which he reciprocates with the same ravenous energy. The both of you gasp into the other’s mouth, desperate to reach orgasmic bliss way up in the troposphere. It didn’t seem so in the beginning, but now, when he fucks into you like this is his last day on Earth, it feels right. You’ve never viewed Jade in rose tint. In fact, he was so insignificant in your life that you failed to comprehend his very existence. Your sight often narrowed to encapsulate Floyd, exiling everyone else to your peripheral, and he became less of Jade Leech—his own person with unique hobbies and talents—and more of Floyd’s twin—the body double who could pass as Floyd if you looked at him from the wrong angle.

But now that same Jade Leech, the one you’d thought so little of before, is making love to you beneath a blanket of jellyfish.

Winding yourself around him, you hold firm to keep him pinned on top of you. “Please don’t stop! Please keep go—oh—going,” you plead, eyes rolling back when he does just that.

“As you wish,” he manages through grunts. “I won’t stop until you’ve had your fill—until all you can think of is me.”

“If that’s the c-case—” you dig your fingers into his back— “you—haa—will have to try harder.”

“Oh? And yet you were so easily satisfied when I was Floyd,” he teases, grabbing your hips and driving himself home in deep, riotous strokes. You tamp down a bawdy moan. “Am I not enough?”

“Not that. Different… It’s different when you’re—oh!” Your weak glare is directed at the jellyfish rather than Jade when he nips at your shoulder. Bolts of pleasure shiver through you when he sinks his teeth in to suck a vicious bruise into your skin. “You’re such a cheat.”

And so annoying. Just like that time in the botanical garden.

“But you’re thinking of me, are you not?”

Your eyes snap back to his. “Not true.”

“I’m flattered.”

“W-Whatever! It’s just beginner’s luck.”

“I’d wager you’ve thought of me before.”

“Only when it’s inconvenient.” You huff, but even that sound is swiftly replaced with another filthy moan when he bites into the spot just above your breast. “Not my fault you look like Floyd.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason,” he mutters into your skin, hips stalling out into something slow and steady.

Now you’re vexed, your pleasure withering at the lack of stimulation. “What does it matter?”

“Because I love—”

You pull him away from your collarbone to silence him with a kiss. He blinks at you in the aftermath, mystified.

“I know.” Strangely, the admission doesn’t unsettle you as much as you thought it would. “Your body told me.”

Plenty of times, in fact.

“You needn’t respond,” he mumbles, cradling your cheek in a fond hold. Sadness swells in his eyes, and your mushy heart skips a beat. “I’m well aware of how deep-rooted your affections for Floyd are.”

They’re subject to change, you almost say, but it sticks in your throat. Can they change? Is that possible?

“I… I’ve always kinda known, Jade.”

“Have you now?”

“You weren’t very covert with it.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips ghost over yours in an almost-kiss. “I have no reason to hide my feelings. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

You run your fingers over his gills, engrossed in his glimmer. “Why? I thought… I mean, isn’t hiding stuff your thing?”

He heaves a shuddering sigh at your titillating touches. “Loving in silence is far too suffocating for a moray.”

“I see…”

And you do. You see it in the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, the way he speaks to you. The way he looks at you, the way he cooks for you, the way he acts around you. From the moment you shook hands on a crazy deal, you were wrapped up in love. It was never about food critique or entertainment; those were secondary to the truth. Jade agreed to help because he loves you. Jade stifled himself—snuffed all of the pieces that comprise Jade—in order to be Floyd because he loves you. Jade spent hours learning new recipes he thought you’d like because he loves you. Jade is an ever-present force in your life no matter how often you shove him to the side because he loves you.

Everything he does—everything he is right now—stems from the love he feels for you.

You’ve always loved others, your heart much too big for its own good, so it’s new to feel that same amount of love reflected tenfold. Tears spot your lash line. Jade coos at you in a musical mix of foreign syllables and sounds. Mermish, you suspect.

“‘You’re beautiful in saltwater,’” he translates. “It’s a double entendre we say here, meaning you’re beautiful when you’re under the sea and when you’re crying. It comes from the two interpretations of saltwater.”

As if you couldn’t cry harder, you do.

“S-Stupid,” you whisper through your sniffles. “How can I not think of you when you say something like that?”

Jade rests his forehead against yours, smiling sincerely. “These are my feelings. You needn’t accept them, but I would be happy if you could acknowledge them.”

“I do. I hear you.”

“Thank you.”

I should be thanking you, dummy.

He kisses you again, and unspoken words melt away into body language. Jade makes love to you like you might break at the slightest thrust, his hips molding to yours in a lazy, loving tempo. It’s comforting and calm to feel his weight on yours, a reminder that he is your beacon amidst all of this desolation and darkness. Insatiable, you and Jade wind around each other like snakes, moaning into each other’s mouths at every opportunity. You’ve never felt more weightless, so much so you’re floating. In this underwater paradise, time is nonexistent and your turbulent thoughts are carried away on the waves.

With his ministrations, the fiery ache in your belly sparks with new life. Your glutinous walls clamp down, which draws a pleasured hiss from Jade, and you breach that special, orgasmic surface with a cry. It’s soon swallowed in another greedy kiss, and all you can do is blindly pursue his tongue, your eyes squeezed shut. The throes of pleasure overtake you even as he continues to fuck you through it, unwilling to let up for even a moment.

It’s perfect—a puzzle finally pieced together.

Jade reaches his zenith shortly after you, his hips crashing against yours in one final thrust to fill you with cum. It’s unlike human sperm, thin and watery, but there’s so much of it. You consider asking for the biology lecture, but you’re so caught up in cloud nine that it’s a chore to work your heavy tongue.

Next time I’ll ask.

Jade—cool and collected Jade—flops on top of you afterwards, completely drained. His cock twitches limply inside of you, but he’s too exhausted to slide out. Not that you’re complaining. The connection is much appreciated.

“Sex is…not very messy in the sea,” you mumble, reaching to pat his head. He hums beneath your palm. “I guess it makes sense because these bodies don’t sweat.”

“Mm.”

“And there’s water everywhere, so fluids won’t last long either.”

“Mm.”

“Huh…”

“Mm.”

You run your fingers through his hair, watching in awe as the strands waver in the water. “Are you okay, Jade?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine now.” He lifts his head slightly to look at you. “My apologies. I…may have gotten lost in the moment.”

“It’s fine.” You issue him a hazy smile. “So this is what Jade’s like post-nut. Cute.”

“Please,” he murmurs, giggling deliriously. “I can assure you I’m normally much cooler. More coherent, too.”

“I never said this side of you wasn’t cool.”

“No, you did not.” His hand covers yours, squeezing faintly. “Thank you, truly, for everything.”

“Jade, I—” You hesitate, gather your words, and continue: “I want to be the one to thank you for everything. You didn’t have to put up with me for this long. You still shouldn’t have to, but you do. So… So thank you. I’m happy to have you in my life.”

“I am forever fortunate to have crossed paths with you.” His fingers curl around yours and he brings your hand up to his lips. “And I will continue to feel so for the rest of my life. There’s no need to offer your gratitude. Being here with you is more than enough.”

“Ooh, so romantic. Everything you say is so…princely. Are you secretly fairy-tale royalty?”

“Would you like to meet my father and find out?”

“Ugh. Forget I said anything. You’re so two-faced.” You tear your hand out of his clasp.

Jade chuckles. “It wouldn’t be a very long swim. My mother will adore you.”

“You’re shameless. We still have to collect the rest of the stuff for Azul.”

“He’ll live.”

“I’ll be indebted to him.”

“And then I’ll get to see you more often.” Jade pets the bloody bites littering your skin with overt adoration. “What wonderful luck, no?”

“You’re seriously the worst!”

“You don’t mean that.”

He’s right; you don’t.

You’re not perturbed by the signs, or lack thereof.

Firstly, your period is notorious for being late. Secondly, you haven’t felt a sliver of sickness ever since Jack offhandedly remarked that you smelled different. When asked to explicate, he told you in that gruff voice of his: “Sweeter. Not like your perfumes. This is a natural sweetness.”

You were wearing your favorite fragrance at the time, so when you sniffed your wrist and turned up with a noseful of Date Night you figured Jack must have mistaken the two. Surely a wolf beastman can have a faulty nose. It can’t be correct all the time, right? Even now, after listening to similar remarks from friends and acquaintances alike, you’re convinced a mistake has been made.

After all, nothing’s changed.

Today, however, it’s Azul who wrinkles his nose at you when you walk past him in the lounge. The busy atmosphere requires his presence, hence why he’s joining you on the floor. He’d be a welcome appearance, if not for his bizarre reaction.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says with another snuffle.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tell me I smell weird, too. That’s all I’ve been hearing lately.”

“Surely someone’s told you.” He folds his arms across his chest. “If not my distracted customers, I would hope one of your friends has clued you in by now.”

“I’m not distracting them on purpose, Azul. But, really, you ought to be happy. It’s bringing in more money. Lots of tips.” You gesture to yourself with your free hand; the other is occupied with a tray full of plates. “Aren’t I doing you a favor?”

He hums, fixing his eyes on the clustered crowd. Jade and Floyd make their rounds, as do the rest of the lounge staff. “And you’ve been feeling well? No illness or discomfort of any sort? Any unusual symptoms?”

“What does my smell have to do with any of that?”

Azul offers you a pleasant simper. “For the right price, I may be able to speculate.”

“Nice try. Like I’d fall for that.”

You pivot on your heel and head for your designated table, hips sashaying all the way. For a while you were paranoid that you smelled foul and that your perfumes couldn’t mask it, but when you asked Ace and Deuce they couldn’t pinpoint the issue either. It was then when Ace joked that your uniform seemed a size too tight, and your concerns evaporated all at once—as did Ace’s comment when you and Deuce chased him through the halls to wring an apology out of him.

Grim doesn’t agree with their assessment, but then you can never tell if he’s being serious when he grumbles about your smell or how you’re like a human furnace now. Winter is approaching; of course you’ve started to bundle up to accommodate for the chilly weather. But Grim insists this is different. Agree to disagree, you compromised and left it at that. Jade had been your last resort, who weighed in with a smile and some cryptic nonsense about ‘delightful consequences’—whatever that meant. Consulting him was a fruitless effort, as he proved to be about as much help as the rest of the school.

Azul doesn’t know what he’s talking about, you think as you serve the table of students. I’ve never felt better.

Just as you think that, though, your body chooses to ridicule you. When you step away from the table, fatigue washes over you and you stumble on unsteady legs. You brace yourself for the floor’s cruel kiss, but the impact from the collapse never comes. Strong arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you upright, and then you hear him. Your star.

“Whoa! Careful there, Shrimpy. Don’t go fallin’ on us.”

“F-Floyd!” You stare up at him from where you remain slumped in his grasp. The world spins and presents you with three Floyds. You blink them away until there’s one, and by the Great Seven is he handsome in his uniform. “Thanks for catching me…”

“Don’t mention it.” He helps you to your feet, patting you down for extra measure. “All good?”

“Yeah… Yeah, totally. Sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, and the next I was so exhausted I couldn’t walk straight.”

“You get enough sleep?”

“I could do better, but I had to pull an all-nighter. Maybe I’m not eating enough? But then Ace said my uniform looked tight… Do you think I’m coming down with something? But I haven’t felt sick either. Just hungry. Seriously… What’s going on with my body?”

Floyd looks through you rather than at you, his face scrunched in contemplation. He leans closer, sniffs you once, and then pinches you through your shirt. You flinch.

“H-Hey! What was that for?”

His mouth spreads in an obnoxiously smug grin—the sort that tells you he’s worked out the solution to a mystery you’ve yet to recognize. “Just testin’ something. You’re smellin’ more like Jade these days. Mama’ll be happy knowin’ he’s got himself a li’l lady friend.”

You bristle, warming under his knowing gaze. Of course Jade’s scent is fresh on your clothes. Prior to your shift, the two of you rendezvoused for a quick round of kissing and bickering over the title for your mutualistic relations. It’s not love. It’s convenience. You fool yourself with this lie because part of you is still so hung up on Floyd. Though your affections have dimmed considerably since that day in the Coral Sea, you still catch yourself fantasizing about him and the future you could share. Although, after everything that’s happened with Jade, you’re not sure where your heart lies.

Jade is not the other half to your pair, but neither is Floyd.

But Jade is always around and he likes you; Floyd does not. And sometimes you think Jade will make it official—that he’ll confess again and you’ll echo the sentiment this time because you have nothing to lose and you’re always waltzing on the border between love and lust. You await that day with hopeful horror.

Everything has changed even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“I am not his lady friend. Not like that.”

“Sure you aren’t. And I’m not a moray.”

“I’m serious!”

“Course you are. I just don’t believe ya.”

“You—” Scowling, you move to swat at him, but the noisy growl of your stomach stops you in your tracks. “Y-You didn’t hear that!”

“Guess it’s better bein’ hungry than sick. Surprised you can even keep anything down.”

“What are you talking about? That makes no sense.”

Floyd shrugs. “Nothin’. Just sayin’ it’s damn good luck is all. These sorta things make humans suuuper sick.”

“Okay… Cool. Thanks for the input?”

Floyd snatches your fedora, indicating he’s ready for a chase and that this conversation has ended. “Hee-hee. You’ll figure it out soon.”

“Wha—hey! Get back here! I wanna know right now!”

Like a brainwashed fool, you pursue because he’s still your star—the eel you’ve idolized ever since you met him. Those feelings are impossible to squash, but it doesn’t matter. Floyd isn’t bothered, and perhaps that’s for the best. His nonchalance allows the two of you to remain friends even in the wake of your confession.

Nothing has changed between you and him.

Looking on with mounting interest, Azul pulls a very proud-looking Jade aside. “You seem pleased.”

“As a peach.”

“Am I right to assume you have a contingency plan written up?”

“And for what contingency must I plan?”

Azul scoffs at his deliberate pussyfooting. “You tell me. Your intentions evade me at present.”

“Is that so? And I thought I made them perfectly clear all those months ago.”

“You did, yes, but I fail to understand how any of this benefits you if she’s still so enamored with Floyd. Do you intend to make a marriage out of this noncommittal not-romance?”

“Azul, you jest. I’m not someone who plays for second place or consolation prizes. Of course I’ll marry (Name). She won’t have a choice.”

“You’re not even romantically involved.”

“Not by human standards.”

“No, I suppose not.” Azul watches as you, oblivious and secretly enceinte, follow Floyd to the kitchen to retrieve another set of finished orders. “A child is a commitment in more ways than one.”

“As are twins.”

He doesn’t shudder at the sight of Jade’s razored smirk, but he does raise an inquiring brow. “What makes you think that?”

“Moray eel intuition.”

“Hah. I see. (Name) won’t be very thrilled.”

“Perhaps not. But we’ll be here to help, won’t we?”

The two exchange a devious glance. Azul snickers. “Oh, but of course. I am nothing if not a compassionate, benevolent soul.”

“Your generosity parallels that of the great Sea Witch,” Jade agrees, a hand held over his heart.

“It was reckless, but I must admit I’m impressed.”

“Why, thank you. I do so enjoy playing dangerous games. The risks are profoundly metamorphic, but the rewards make it worth my while.” His two-toned eyes track your figure as you flit about the lounge with Floyd. “I’ll do whatever it takes. If I must play Floyd for the day, so be it. If I must swallow her in my shadow so that no one else dares to look for her light, so be it. These are the lengths I’m willing to go to for her. She is my everything. My dearest. My moon.” Jade glances at Azul, a manic grin darkening his features. “And rather than confine myself to the role of a single star seeking her approval, I’ll become her universe. Then there will be no need to compete with other stars, for I will be the only one she’ll ever see in this starless solar system.”

“What a frightening face… You and (Name) really are a match made in madness.”

“Aren’t we just?”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere jade #n/sfw #tw: pregnancy #tw: baby trapping #tw: choking

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mousy-nona · 2 months

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Because I'm a sucker for seeing Vox lose it over RadioApple, and also them dancing, maybe a thing where RadioAaple both a little tipsy, dance in Lucifer's room late at night. Vox sees them on his drone and freaks because 1) Alastor is letting himself be unguarded with a person 2) Alastor is dancing and 3) Alastor has, in fact, made nice with the King like Vox was afraid of. Very nice by the looks of it.

“Do you ever think you may have a problem?”

That was Velvette, who was using her best “let’s not piss off the crazy man” voice.

“No.”

“Not even a little one?”

“No.”

Valentino and Velvette exchanged telling looks, which Vox promptly ignored. He had more important things to worry about, like keeping this stupid drone in the air. Maneuvering the machine itself was easy, but getting around the electromagnetic force field Alastor had set up around the hotel’s perimeter was a whole lot trickier. Vox had been flying in circles for hours, trying to find a weak spot in Alastor’s defenses.

(He knew it’d been hours because Velvette had started shooting worried glances at him around hour two, Valentino had showed up around hour five, and they’d started a game of rock-paper-scissors to figure out who was going to do a wellness check on him around hour six.)

“Ah-ha!” Vox screamed, jabbing both fists in the air when the force field flexed and glitched, creating a half second window of opportunity. He urged the drone forward, barely zipping past before the shield re-formed. “Boo-yah! Who’s your daddy?”

Valentino smirked and took in a long drag of his pipe. “Vox, baby, not outside the bedroom.”

Vox’s metal heart – the same one he always denied having – started beating faster as the camera zoomed closer and closer to the hotel. He zipped to Alastor’s radio tower first, then his room, frowning slightly when all he found was a half-eaten deer, a cooling cup of coffee, and a discarded coat.

From behind him, Velvette clapped her hands with an annoyed huff of relief. “Oh, well, looks like the asshole is out. Too bad, so sad. Can we please get back to something actually fucking important?”

But Vox shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s 11 o’clock. Alastor usually finishes his business before seven so he can have dinner at eight, or else he gets too hungry to do–” He trailed off when he saw the look on both their faces. They were both staring at him as if he was a terminal patient, come down with an incurable case of Alastor-itis.

He sighed and re-focused on the screen. “It just doesn’t make sense, okay?”

The library. The lobby. The kitchen. Alastor was nowhere to be found.

Then Vox had a horrible thought. He remembered the rumors flying around town, the wild laughs of excitement and the curses emanating from the hotel recently. He remembered Alastor’s most recent broadcast (“Folks, when living with an annoying roommate, always remember to assert your dominance wherever possible”). And most of all, he remembered Alastor’s smug face as he strolled down the street, humming merrily to himself as he twirled an unfamiliar white top hat on his staff.

He remembered the strange apple that had appeared on the top right of the hotel, just down the hall from Alastor.

His heart in his throat, he slowly moved the drone higher, then higher still. Don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there –

Velvette and Vox went quiet at the scene that appeared on the screen. Alastor was there all right, but he wasn’t alone. As if he’d suddenly downloaded a virus, Vox could only process what he was seeing in chunks.

He saw the record player first, oddly enough. An old-timey song was playing, static crackling and popping as a low sweet croon, somehow both deep and high, filled the room. 25%.

The room was dark, but a few candles and duck-shaped lamps were gleamed with a heavenly light, washing the pair slowly revolving in the center of the room in a seductive golden glow. 50%.

The king of hell was there. The expression on his face was…tender. His head was tucked into Alastor’s narrow chest, one hand on Alastor’s shoulder and the other clasped in Alastor’s hand. His eyes were sparkling, almost overfilled with a nameless emotion that Vox knew all too well. Alastor’s hand was curled around his waist protectively (possessively). 75%.

And finally, Vox saw Alastor. Really saw him, as if for the first time, because this wasn’t his Alastor. His Alastor was always one step ahead, always untouchable, cold, cruel, and capable of truly unspeakable acts of violence with an effortless charm that made his blood boil with envy and need at the same time.

But the Alastor in front of him…his coat was off. For the first time in fifty years, Vox saw Alastor’s bare skin, his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he allowed another living soul to see him undressed. Unguarded. His eyes, always so alert and aware, were closed.

Worst of all was his smile. It looked soft. Gentle – or whatever passed for gentle with Alastor. As Vox watched, Lucifer’s lips moved. The words were too soft for the drone to pick up, but whatever it was, Alastor laughed. Not in a mocking or teasing way, but an actual, genuine laugh, as if Alastor was a real boy with a real heart.

100%.

Suddenly, Alastor’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Vox through the screen. The wicked smirk that curled his lips was the last thing the drone ever saw as it glitched, red shaking and warping the feed until it went completely dead, and the three of them were left staring at a black screen.

Silence reigned. Then – “Well, I’ll be. Looks like the deer found himself a doe.”

Velvette shot Valentino a warning look, then took a hesitant step forward. “Vox – “ Velvette started, but Vox started cackling. Wild, out of control, utterly insane laughs ripped from his wires as his monitor-face went haywire.

“I am going to kill that motherfucker!”

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #vox is Jealous with a capital J #alastor #hazbin #vox #duckiedeer #prompts #asks

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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months

Text

mistakes and regrets

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, aged up!rafe, dad!rafe and mom!reader, seperated parents/coparenting, p in v sex (but they dont finish), angsty but fluffy ending

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

"hey, baby girl!" rafe smiles, picking up your daughter and twirling her around. "well don't you look so cute in your new dress." he nuzzles his face against hers, pressing kisses along her cheeks.

"hey y/n." rafe greets you with a smile as well, setting your daughter down and coming to take the bags out of your hands, carrying them inside.

you take your daughters hand and walk in together, pushing down your nerves to put a smile on your face.

"thanks for letting us stay here while the apartment is getting redone." you say, watching as rafe sets your bags along the hallway.

"no problem." rafe says, clearing his throat. it's been so long since you've shared a house together. rafe usually gets your daughter on weekends, and you take care of her at your apartment during the week while he's working.

it wasn't a one time hookup that resulted in your daughter, but it wasn't exactly a relationship either. your bodies were so compatible, and you tried to make it work when you became pregnant, but it was just too hard on both of you, so for your daughters sake, you decided to cut the toxicity and coparent with seperate places.

"come on, izzy, let's show mommy your new toy." rafe ushers your daughter up the stairs, helping her navigate her new skill. izzy just turned two, and is still getting the hang of her movements.

you follow them up the stairs, looking at the house you used to know so well. you smile when you see the inside of izzys room, it's been almost a year since you've been inside of it, and its been updated with a brand new bed, and stocked full with toys. rafe obviously spoils his daughter, but you already knew that from how much extra he gave you in child support each month, allowing you to not have to work to support her. you still choose to work at a local cafe on the weekends, mainly because your friend runs it and you like to help out. it keeps you busy as well when you're away from your daughter.

"mommy, look!" izzy holds up a brand new barbie doll, and you ooo and ahh over it as she continues to show you all the toys that she keeps at her daddys house. you sit down on the tiny toddler sized couch in her room, smiling at rafe as he crosses his arms and watches from the door, loving seeing how precious his daughter is.

once izzy is done going through everything, you head back down the stairs for dinner. you love to cook with izzy, giving her easy little tasks that she can do with your supervision. you know how important it is to start teaching her these things young, and how good it is for her development.

you move throughout the kitchen with rafe with ease, like you never had all that time spent apart. once everything is in the oven or simmering on the stovetop, you move to lift izzy into her high chair in the dining room, but rafe stops you. "i got it." he smiles gently, placing her in the seat and securing the tray.

"this is nice." you hum softly, keeping an eye on izzy out of the corner of your eye as she drinks her milk out of a sippy cup.

"it is. we should do family dinners more often." you and rafe get along decently well, but it also hurts you to be around him constantly. you feel guilty that you aren't giving izzy the life you had growing up with two steady, in love parents.

"we should." you just say in agreement, helping rafe plate the dishes before moving back to the table.

the dinner goes by well, izzy never letting an awkward silent moment happen as she chats away, even though most of it is intelligible baby babble along with her speaking with a mouth full of food.

you settle down on the couch with izzy after, cuddling her as a movie plays on the tv while rafe cleans up from dinner. you both decided a relaxing day would be best, considering you're deviating from her normal schedule by staying at rafes for the entire week while your apartments wood floors are redone. the complex offered to put you up in a hotel, but you knew izzy would be more comfortable at rafes, even if you found it awkward. you'd do anything for your daughter.

"somebody is getting tired." rafe says with a smirk as he enters the living room, seeing izzy resting against you, slowly blinking at the tv.

"daddy." izzy perks up slightly, crawling across the couch to where he sits down.

"come on, mommy." izzy becons you with her hand, wanting to cuddle with both her parents. you can't deny what your little girl wants, schooching across the couch to sit next to rafe, izzy sat half on your thigh and half on his.

you keep your back pin straight, your leg the only part of your body touching rafes, but as the movie continues, you find yourself leaning back against the couch, rafes arm coming to wrap around your shoulder.

you can tell that izzy has fallen asleep, but you let yourself lean into rafe, enjoying the comfort of his warmth as the movie draws to a close.

only when the credits finish do you move, wishing you could stay there curled up for longer, as one big unit with izzy.

"ill take her up to bed, stay here." rafe says, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. you just nod, letting rafe pick up your daughter, noting how small she is in his big arms. still your little girl, even though she's gotten so big.

rafe hesitates before he leaves the room, turning to press a kiss to your forehead before exiting. you blush hard, knowing your face must be bright red from the intimate moment.

you stay sat in your seat as you hear rafe descending the stairs and rummaging with something in the kitchen. he comes back into the living room with two glasses of wine, handing one to you.

"i bought red just for you." rafe admits, sitting down next to you, but keeping more distance than before.

"you remembered." you smile into your glass, taking a small sip of the drink.

"of course.” rafe closes his eyes briefly before refocusing on you when they open again.

“you’re different.” you say honestly. it’s been so long since you’ve spent more than a few minutes with him, and never one on one like this.

“i’m no longer the boy who got you pregnant.” rafe says, and you understand exactly what he means. izzy changed both of your lives, made you realize that you had to grow up, for her sake and your own. “i actually-” rafe leans forward and sets his glass on the coffee table. “wanted to apologize for back then. i was young and stupid, and i hurt you and izzy. i wish i could go back and change how i acted. i was jealous and immature.”

“oh rafe.” you sigh, also setting your glass down to lean forward and wrap your arms around him. “it means so much to me to hear you say that. i’m sorry too, we both made mistakes.” rafes arms are firmly around your waist, holding you against him. you pull back, going to speak more when rafes lips press against yours. you gasp against his mouth, but he doesn’t let up, continuing to kiss you until you concede and kiss him back.

“please. just let me have you, even just for tonight.” rafe says, running his hand through your hair, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes full of emotion and pleading.

you should say no. this will only complicate things further, but you swallow your pride and nod. you want rafe too bad to miss this opportunity.

rafe stands slowly, hands carefully helping you up like he’s worried if he moves too quickly you’ll back out.

he leads you up the stairs, and you follow slowly a step behind, keeping your outstretched hands intertwined as he heads past izzys bedroom to his own. you glance around the room, noticing its mostly unchanged from a year ago when you packed up your things and left.

"we'll have to be quiet." you say, closing the door shut behind you. "don't want to wake izzy."

rafe nods, placing his hands on your waist as he connects your lips again, the kiss even more passionate now as he leads you further into the room, towards the bed.

you kiss in between getting undressed, pulling clothes off before reconnecting your lips until you’re both naked. rafe lays you down, draping his body over yours, his cock rubbing against your thigh making you moan, widening your legs, calling for him.

rafe presses against your entrance, pushing inside with ease, like he was meant to be there. you cry out, trying to keep quiet but struggling until rafes mouth is on yours, swallowing your sounds with a kiss as his hips press against yours, cock buried deep in your heat.

“rafe, please.” you claw your fingers down his back, not caring if you scratch him, needing him to move. he grants your command, moving his hips back and then in in a swinging motion, his eyes glossed over with lust.

it reminds you of the night you conceived izzy, it was just like this, rafe moaning on top of you, both trying to keep quiet as ward was sleeping in the room next door. at the flashback, you suddenly push rafe off of you, tears welling up in your eyes.

“baby?” rafe questions, his hands reaching out but not touching, like he’s scared you’ll react even worse.

“what are we doing?” you question, your voice breaking as you sob, feeling regretful and vulnerable as you tug on rafes sheet to wrap it around your naked body.

rafe opens his mouth like hes going to speak, but no words come out.

“what are we doing?” you repeat. “we aren’t kids anymore, we have a daughter, we can’t just hook up. do you know how confusing this all is for her? we are being so dumb and selfish.”

“it’s not selfish to want to give izzy happy parents who are together.” rafe pushes back.

“together? you said just for tonight.” you scrunch your brows, confused.

“i would take tonight if that’s all you were willing to offer me. i was hoping with you staying here, things would… change. and get better.” rafe sighs, reaching out to take your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“so you actually want to try again?” you question, thinking that was out of the question after what happened a year ago.

“anything for you. anything for izzy. i know it’ll be hard, but why don’t we try just for this week? and then see where it takes us from then on?”

you nod, leaning forward to press your cheek into rafes chest, letting his strong, comforting arms wrap you into a hug, easing you back onto the bed.

“let’s just sleep.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “and see how we feel in the morning, waking up next to each other.”

“mmm.” you hum in agreement.

“but-” rafe pauses “we do need to put our clothes back on so izzy doesn’t walk in on us naked.”

you burst out laughing, eyebrows shooting up when rafe presses his lips against yours, shushing you as to not wake up izzy while also unable being able to hold back a laugh of his own.

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strangersmunsons · 4 months

Text

Eddie’s sick. you have a little surprise to cheer him up. eddie munson x fem!reader, ~800 words

There’s some kind of bug floating around the garage, and it’s got Eddie sick as a dog.

It’s the second day off he’s taken from work. He’s at home, taking refuge on the couch — since there’s no television in his bedroom — huddled underneath a blanket, watching some mindless daytime program that he can barely focus on.

The front door to his apartment clicks open, and you appear in the entryway, wrapped up in a big overcoat. A large tote bag dangles from your shoulder.

“Hi, baby,” he calls out hoarsely at the highest volume he can manage.

“Hi, Teddy.” You toe your shoes off and leave them by the door, but keep your coat on. You pad over to where he’s laid up on the sofa. “How’re you feeling?” you ask, pushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead. The smooth swath of skin feels too warm beneath your palm.

“Like shit,” he croaks.

You hum sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

He coughs, and the noise is thick with phlegm. “But better, now that you’re here,” he adds with a weak smile, voice cracking on the last word. You scratch his head lightly with your nails, right behind his ear, just like you would a puppy.

“Here, I brought you some stuff.” You set the bag down on the floor and start pulling out items. “A thermometer, because I know you don’t have one.” You take the it out of its box and stick it in his mouth before he can complain. “Flu medicine, heating pad, VapoRub…chicken noodle soup…” You set a thermos down on the coffee table in front of him. “Dark Crystal on VHS.”

“You’re an angel,” says Eddie. The words are garbled, as he’s speaking from around the glass rod tucked under his tongue. “Thanksch.”

“Wait, wait, I have one more thing.” You start to undo the buttons on your coat, fingers working slowly, dragging the process out. “Seeing as how I’m your caretaker and all, I thought I should dress for the part.” When all the buttons are undone, you shrug the coat off, letting it fall to the floor to pool around your feet.

Eddie’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and the thermometer falls out of his open mouth. “Oh my God.”

The costume is from Halloween three years ago, before you met Eddie, so he’s never seen it before. The nurse uniform is tight and form-fitting, the silky white fabric hugging your body perfectly. It’s also short — the hem sits high up on your thighs, baring a generous amount of leg. For the finishing touch, you pull out a little red nurse’s cap and secure it to your head. “Ta-da! What do you think?”

Eddie thinks he’s going to start barking, that’s what he thinks.

“What do I think?” Eddie struggles to sit upright, propping himself up on his elbow. “Baby. Sweetheart. Angel. You look stunning. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. You look so sexy, I — I can’t believe that I’m sick and have to keep my hands to myself.” He sounds utterly dismayed as he comes to this realization.

You start laughing. “Aw, I didn’t put it on to torture you. I wanted to cheer you up!”

“Oh, it’s working. Consider me cheered.” He hacks into his elbow briefly, then twirls the air with his index finger. “Gimme a spin, babe.”

You oblige, turning slowly on the spot. His eyes flit wildly up and down your figure, desperate to drink in every inch of you. The ill temper Eddie’s been in for the past two days completely dissipates. He’d wolf-whistle if he wasn’t so full of snot.

“You know what? I think I’m feeling better already.”

“Hmm. Are you very sure about that?” you ask innocently, leaning forward with your hands braced on your thighs so he can get an eyeful of your chest. “‘Cause I think you could do with a little more tender loving care.”

Eddie shivers, and it has nothing to do with his being sick. “Whatever you say, nurse. You’re the medical professional.”

The corners of your lips turn up in a smile and you straighten back up. “First order of business,” you call over your shoulder as you head over to the kitchen, “eat your soup!”

You open up the cutlery drawer and pull out a spoon while Eddie twists the lid off of the thermos. A curl of steam wafts up from the warm liquid, and he inhales deeply, excited for the first time in two days to eat something.

You hand him the spoon and sit on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table. He slurps the soup down noisily, and you giggle despite your wrinkled nose.

“S’really good, baby. Thanks for doin’ all this.”

“Of course.”

“And as soon as I kick this flu, I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

“Ooh, language! Talk like that again and I’ll have to give you a sponge bath.”

Eddie’s eyes gleam with excitement. “Promise?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #this one is silly

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acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies · 3 months

Note

Hi lovely! First of all: your writing is amazing. You have a huge potential, keep up your good work! I'm proud of you. Listen, of courseee now that I've flattered you I need to request something xD

SO! I was thinking maybe fluff prompt 11 with Azriel. Like it would be their first pregnancy together and Azriel took some time off from missions to spend time with you? He's being super protective and all, always having a protective hand over the reader's belly- you get the idea. And like they would be laying on the couch and he would just randomly whiff of the reader's scent filled with her pregnancy hormones and be like, delighted with the scent? It was just an idea I had: I figured you would be able to make it into beautiful words. Like always.

Take care!

Babies

Azriel x Rhysand sister!reader

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, suggestive

Prompts: N/A

Summary: It’s your first pregnancy and Az is being an overprotective mate. But you love it.

a/n dude i literally love @azsazz for all her dad!azriel fics also i don’t think ultrasound pictures are a thing in acotar so bare with me, i hope you don’t mind i didn’t include prompt 11 i just didn’t think it fit into the story.

“You’re pregnant,” Madja’s voice rang through my ears.

“Pregnant, that can’t be” I whisper. “Y/N my dear it turns out you are really fertile, more so than normal fae females,”

“I’m having a baby,” I mumble out, “I need to tel Azriel, when should I see you next?”

It wasn’t as if Azriel and I hadn’t talked about children. Fuck we had come up with baby names before all of this. So why was I so nervous as I waited for Az to come home.

Madja had given me a picture of the babe. I had it laid on a table with a cake that said “You’re gonna be a dad”.

The time seemed to pass slower, the clock’s ticking dimmed. I could hear the songs of the birds returning for the night, see the sunset pour into the room.

The door clicked, and I practically jumped out of my seat and rushed to the open it. I think I gave Azriel a heart attack with how quickly, I opened the door and pounced on him. He reciprocated my actions with a searing kiss.

“Hi,” I whisper against his lips, he chuckles and shuts the door, making sure to lock it. “What’s gotten you so excited?” he asks.

“I have a surprise for you in the kitchen,” I murmur my mind still hazy from the kiss.

“Oh you do?” he smirks. Rolling my eyes, I jump off and grab his hand, “It’s not that kind of surprise,”.

Guiding him by his arm, I drag him towards the kitchen. Standing on my tippy toes, my hand goes to cover his eyes right before we enter the kitchen.

I look around at the swirls of black surrounding both Az and I’s torsos. Leaning down, I whisper “Don’t tell him anything,”.

As if they hear me they frantically move up and down as if saying yes.

Taking a deep breath in, we walk into the kitchen. Reluctantly pulling my hand away from his face, I look at him in anticipation of his reaction.

His eyes flutter open, taking in his surroundings, he looks at the picture of the babe in my stomach, then his eyes wonder to the cake. He takes in the words written on the cake.

Turning around he gapes at me.

“We’re having a- you’re not joking right?” he says frantically. Unable to form words I shake my head as a no.

Within seconds, he’s picked me up and he’s twirling me around in the air.

I shriek at first but then it dies down into a soft smile as I see how happy he is. Once he’s put me down on the ground, he kneels and pulls up my shirt.

“Mummy and Daddy love you so much” he kisses my belly.

Halfway through my pregnancy, Azriel forced Rhysand to let him off until the babe was born. He spent every waking moment with me, making sure I was drinking enough water, eating enough food and stuff like that.

The pregnancy made him more protective, he growled at every single male he saw, that looked at me. But seeing the fearsome spymaster, on his knees kissing my belly or holding my belly from behind to relieve me of some of the pain was all worth it.

He had cried the day the babe’s scent finally came. He had promised me that he would be the best father ever. Not that I had any doubt about it.

I stayed at home mostly, to satisfy Azriel and also because no one wants to walk around a lot when you’re so close to your due date.

That’s why I was currently lying on top of Azriel, my back pressed against his chest as he read me one of the books Nesta had given me.

But all I could focus on was his voice. A rich melody filling the room like a sweet song. I shuffled against him.

He took a deep breathe, taking in the scent of the babe. And my pregnancy hormones. The second they hit his senses, he let out a deep growl that went straight down my spine to my heated core.

I carefully twisted around so I could kiss him. His soft lips pressed against mine, sent me into a frenzy. The way his arms grazed up my shorts and down the arms of my sleeveless top.

“Az,” I whine against his mouth, “Don’t be a tease,”.

“I would never dream of it my love,” he says grinning.

My hormones swapped out for a droopy feeling. I yawned against his chest. He chuckled and kissed my head. Going back to reading, he drew mindless circles on my exposed shoulder. And finally for the first time in days the babe had finally let me sleep.

“You and our daughter are my heart, darling” and that’s the last thing.

Cassian had barged into the living room of the couple’s new house. “How’s my favourite sister in la-”.

Azriel tells him to shut up as he motions to the sleeping figure on top of him. “Sorry,” Cassian winces.

Just seconds later Rhysand stomps into the room, “Where’s my sister?” he asks as he looks over at Cassian. “Don’t be too loud you’re going to wake the demon,” he whispers pointing over at Azriel and I. Lifting up my middle finger, I aim it towards Cassian and then mutter out a “Fuck you” loud enough for them to hear.

“Althea doesn’t like you, Rhys” I say, giggling.

“Oh and how would you know that sister dear?” He says with a roll of his eyes.

Just as I’m about to answer, I get interrupted.

“Althea is such a pretty name,” Cassian squeals.

“Yes we know, now get out” Azriel sighs exasperatedly.

They start protesting but I cut them off, “Either get out or bring me some cake,”.

As they walk out Cassian mutters under his breath, “Demon,”

“I heard that!”

a/n hope you liked this anon! dad!az just holds a special place in my heart 🫶🏻

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radiant-reid · 10 months

Note

Imagine reader being pregnant and telling Reid on Father’s day and its just really cuteee🌸🥰🥰

forever dreaming about telling him i'm pregnant with his baby

Spencer has no idea what today is.

Not only has he been out on a case for the week and doesn't what TV enough to see the advertisements, but he also doesn't have a dad worthy of getting a gift for.

So there's no reason for Spencer to know that this June Sunday is Father's Day. But after today, he'll always know when he's getting celebrated.

"Mm, what's the occasion?" His voice makes you grin as you flip pancakes. He got in last night, and after sleeping for 13 hours, he's finally up, looking adorable as he rubs his eyes. And attractive in only pajama pants that hang low on his hips.

"Hi." You walk over, feet padding against the hardwood floor.

You fall onto his chest, hugging him as his hand gravitates to rubbing your back and his head rests on top of yours.

"Pancakes are a good news food." He tells you. "French toast is usual."

You should have known your profiler husband would pick something was going on as soon as he saw you in person. On the phone, you could lie by omission a little easier.

"Spence." You groan, leaning your head back. "You're the most handsome surprise ruiner ever."

A laugh leaves his hips. "Kind of backhanded." He chuckles, and it's the most beautiful sound. He kisses you softly, but, as expected, he's on a mission, and he won't stop until he has all the answers. "Tell me what's going on, beautiful."

You sigh dramatically, regrettably breaking away from him. "Close your eyes." You instruct, and he furrows his eyebrows, not complying. "Please, you already ruined my surprise."

"Okay." He agrees, cupping one hand over his eyes. "But I'm really confused now."

You move away to go and get them from your handbag. Three positive tests that have made your dreams together come true.

You place them in his hands, standing back slightly and excitedly waiting for his reaction. It's going to be good, and you can't wait.

His eyes light up immediately when he opens them and realizes what he's holding. "No way!" He shouts. "You're serious?"

You nod eagerly, and you don't have time to say anything before Spencer scoops you up in his arms, twirling you around in the kitchen.

He stops abruptly, cupping your cheeks and kissing you passionately. "Oh my gosh, we did it! You did it! You're amazing."

"Spence?" You say, stopping him from a long ramble about how incredible you are. He can get around to that later. "Happy Father's Day."

He's quickly tearful, and he smiles even wider. "That's... maybe the sweetest thing I've ever heard. I cannot wait to be a dad."

You can't wait to see him as a dad either. He's going to kill it. "I can't wait for you to be a dad. You'll be the best one there is."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb

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doki-doki-imagines · 4 months

Note

Hello <3 I have an idea for a request. Linkuei trio (and if you want other characters too) are having an argument with the reader, but suddenly she gives them a kiss to silence them. How would they feel or react? Sorry if this is stupid, I saw it in a novel and I liked it 😔

author note: this is not a stupid request, you idiot(lmao)! It is a scrummy idea that oiled my brain gears, so thank you🫶🏻. One last thing, the reader is already Tomas s/o in his part.

Bi-Han:

-Sektor, your friend, finally has a date with his crush. Honestly you are happy for him. It's already a miracle someone could suffer him for more than 12 hours and still wanting to kiss him dumb. -But between him and his date there is an obstacle: Bi-Han, your boss. -Your work is pretty different from theirs, but Bi-Han saw in you a precious resource, so he decided to keep you after Sektor brang you to him. -Being a precious resource means that you also have to hear him yap and throw a tantrum in your and Sektor shared kitchen, walking left and right like a madman waiting to block the scientist from his romantic date. -"They aren't right for him." "I should be his only thought." "They aren't even Lin Kuei!" -You listen to him, his words entering from an ear and exiting from the other without being elaborated in your brain, your ass sit tight on the chair with no real intention of standing up to calm him down. -It's unbelievable how you got a crush for this man-child. -"Why can't Sektor be happy? Having a distraction is nice, plus his brain can have more stimulus interacting with someone else." Bi-Han opens his mouth and you are sure he tells you something but your brain shut down the moment his lips open, not being ready to hear another chant of "No Lin Kuei" "He cannot-" and blah blah blah. -But you have a mission, one that you accepted after seeing Sektor getting on his knees and begging for your help. "Please distract Bi-Han while I run out from the house." -Clock is ticking, and you know the hour of the date is approaching. You are already tired, the flood of words from the usually silent grandmaster filled your ears for the year to come. -Then you decide to act. -"Plus they can't be good because-" Words hang in the air. You finally lift yourself up from the chair, just to grab the collar of Bi-Han uniform and kiss him, or better kiss his upper lip since his mouth was wide open. -You break the touch, hoping that now his scolding will be directed to you long enough for Sektor to escape. -What you don't expect is to see the kitchen twirl, and to find yourself cornered between the fridge and the kitchen island, back on the cold wall, front against a even colder chest, icy mouth sucking yours, teeth playing with your lower lip. -His fingers grip is hard, leaving indents in the back of your thighs trying to pull them up, around his hips. -You follow his implicit order, like a doll in the owner hands, his crotch now dangerously close to yours, tongue overpowering yours, their dance played in your warm mouth. -Bi-Han end the kiss, his thin lips just an inch away from yours, a heavy breath coming out from his nose. "You are not doing this to distract me from Sektor, right?" You try to look around, then your eyes land again on his face, on his dark and deep eyes. "Totally. Do you wanna stop?" "Absolutely not." His lips are back on yours, devouring you as a delicious meal. -Sektor is able to sneak away, between your shared groans and mewls, a smirk on his face. He is happy that his friend was finally able to get with Bi-Han. -Do you have a crush for Bi-Han? Well, you will be astounished when you'll find out he has been obsessed with you for far longer.

Kuai Liang:

-"Liang listen to me!" "No! I've already decided." -You follow him through the chambers of his mansion as best as you can since he is almost running. -"It is an important package, and I'm the only one free that can deliver it to Lord Liu Kang. Let me-" "For the last time, no." Liang finally turns around, eyes firm and eyebrows furrowed, making you take a step back for how big and imposing he looks right now. -"But why…I know I'm not a strong warrior but-" You feel your voice breaking and you hate it, but as a side effect Liang expression softens up. His hands that were tight on his side now reach for your cheeks. "Don't cry." "I'm not. But the world is at risk Liang! My life has no value compared to-" -You can't finish the phrase, your grandmaster soft lips shutting you up. Liang removes himself immediately, your kiss lasting as long as a blink of an eye, his soft black eyes looking at you. -He even crouches a little, waiting to understand your reaction, his thick fingers drawing circles on the apple of your cheeks, removing some tears that slip your eyes. -Liang decides to be the first to talk, breaking the silence. "There is no world for me if you aren't in it. No world matters if you don't live in it. Don't go 'till I get back." His forehead knocks against yours, eyes now closed, and his feelings for you now clear. -You gasp, no words leave your mouth, no muscle moving. Not until Liang opens his eyes again, and finally, your body works. -And Liang sees it, the same fire that burns him alive every time he looks at you, that turns to ashes any thought that isn't you, monopolising his entire being. -This kiss is way more intense, your hands grip his collar, pushing him close to your body, not a single gap for air. His right hand rests tight on the back of your head while the other slips lower, massaging and groping. -If only he had a bit more of time… -"I have to go now, fireball." Liang whispers to your lips. "Don't go until I'm back. Be good, and we will be able to do this and much more." He smirks, eyes full of mirth. -You nod. This time he won.

Tomas Vrbada:

-"You are wrong and being stubborn." "I know what I'm talking about. You are being contrarian!" -You both are walking at Madame Bo restaurant, customers long gone, just the two of you arguing. -Why? Who remembers, you just know you want to be right and Tomas is on the same wavelength. -"You know I am right. You are just being childish." He tells you, with that damn finger pointing at you. Of all the habits he could take from his big brother, the finger-pointing one irate you like nothing else. -You look at him, Tomas looks delightful, cheeks slightly red from anger, his eyes magnetic, and he reeks confidence. Maybe you don't mind this side. -"You always want to win. You are such a younger brother." You can't hear it, but you see something snapping in his brain. You struck a nerve, and his mind is ready to throw a reply that will literally devour you. -But your mind is faster, finding a solution that won't make you win, but also won't make Tomas explode. -Your lips push against his ones, and after a second of surprise Tomas reciprocates, much angrier than you, much more forceful. -You soon find your back against one of the wooden tables of the restaurant. Tomas grips an angle of tablecloth and pushes it down, the tableware following, breaking into pieces. He doesn't seem to mind, breaking the kiss just to push you on the table. -Madame Bo will kill both of you. -Tomas starts to kiss down your neck, kisses soon turns into small bites. "T-Tomas." He looks at you, mouth still dangerously close to your neck. "Do you even remember why we started arguing?" His smile wicked, his usual angelic face looking devilish. "Fuck no. For sure, it wasn't as good as this-" You gasp, Tomas teeth sinking into the skin of your throat. "I agree with you." "Then come back here, I haven't finished kissing you." "Yes, ma'am." -Fingers skillfully untie the strings of his uniform, your pants being pulled down as quickly. -You are right at the end. The method of fermentation of Tomas' favourite radish isn't as interesting as this.

BONUS:

Anon don't gatekeep, say the name of the novel.

No fr I'm curious.

Maybe if I read I can also yk, improve lol.

#mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #bi han x reader #bi han #kuai liang x reader #mk1 smoke #tomas vrbada #tomas x reader #smoke x reader #sub zero x reader #scorpion x reader #a mix between reactions scenarios and headcanons #so I'll just tag it as x reader LOL

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