People calling Valko cringe like girl I was on wattpad and playing voltage inc games! It doesn’t get any cringier than that baby! Go play some kissed by the baddest bidder and maybe you’ll feel better
falling in love with your doe-eyed coworker (he hates it)
contains: office AU, enemies to lovers, suggestive and not sfw language, mention of alcohol, mention of drugs (in a jokingly manner and not consumption), MSBY are terrible wingmen, this should have been a multichapter but i crammed it into an oneshot, everything is deeply unserious. i cannot begin to describe how silly this is
a/n: i really do want him so bad it makes me look stupid
• SUMMARY: Tired of being a virgin, you’re ready to find yourself a man you deem suitable. Gris, your safest choice, turns you down, so a casual group trip to a nearby settlement becomes your plan B. But Enjin, secretly crushing on you, can’t stand to watch you flirt with others. After he sabotages your hunt, the confrontation soon exposes your secret to him. Suddenly, he’s faced with a choice whose answer is far more obvious than he expected. MDNI.
• CONTAINS: SMUT with plot, virgin!reader, cleaner!reader, Enjin and reader are both messy/toxic, push and pull, some fluff, bad humor, anime spoilers (at least for the last episode), jealous and protective Enjin, reader wears makeup and dresses in a feminine way, drinking, Enjin’s kind of nice/ patient here but he’s also insufferable (and makes some disrespectful comments), unprotected + rough sex, praise, dry humping, dirty talk, oral fem receiving, handjob, hair pulling, multiple os, grinding at the dancefloor, reader is honestly excited to finally have sex. WORD COUNT: 18k (i’m sorry, i got too invested in the story, but pls give it a chance <3…)
• NOTE: 1. Even if reader loses her virginity here, don’t consider it a realistic take on first time. And, obviously, you don’t have to be a virgin to read the story haha. I’m just having fun writing dirty Enjin. 2. Reader’s age isn’t specified, other than her being described as an adult, so it’s really up to you to decide what you consider losing v card late to be. And I want you to know there’s nothing shameful about being a virgin, regardless of how old you are or what this fic might portray❣️Everything written here is for funsies.
“You should save it for someone special.” — is the sentence that makes you realize you are being friend-zoned.
Friend-zoned by Gris, who, in your humble opinion, happens to worry too much about being chivalrous sometimes. Friendly rejected in a narrow space of a work truck you dragged him into for privacy, with you and him currently hiding in the underground garage.
Expected in hindsight, unexpected in impact.
You exhale deeply, receiving little relief when the car still stinks like cigarettes of a certain individual. The plea in your eyes is tainted with a speck of annoyance. “I don't care about someone special. I might as well never find them,” you reply with exasperation, rubbing your face. Most are asleep at this hour, yet you are here, almost begging to be ruined by a handsome man.
Gris frowns, as if you are undervaluing yourself. “How come? You are a lovely woman, and…”
You admire him for his reverence, but honestly, his romantics have you cringing when you're on hunt to be fucked…
… For the very first time in your life, if not including the way he’s fucking up with your ambitions.
You think his reasoning is something a teenage girl would love to hear, and while she deserves the best, it’s not something an adult woman who has made up her mind — mind you, with maturity and hours of pondering — would want to now hear.
“Look, I won’t pressure you — it’s all your choice. But I want you to know we don’t have to be in love for this. That’s totally fine by me. No grudges will be held,” you try to bargain with the most cordial tone you can muster, even if your fingers nervously drum against the armrest. You want to respect his wishes no matter how eager and frustrated you may be.
Gris laughs nervously; you for sure are one of an attractive lady in his eyes, yet he’s not sure if he’s willing to complicate the friendship built between you two in exchange for few moments of relief. Being so close to you has him flustered already — your top lingers low on your chest today, as if you’re using a bait on him.
“I appreciate that. I really do. You could say I’m flattered it’s me who you chose to entrust yourself with… Regardless, I don’t want to get any weird ideas about you after the fact.”
He pats your shoulder, and as soon as he escapes you and your alluring perfume, you’re left alone with your own thoughts.
You’re in quite a pickle.
Remaining as a virgin at your grown age has became dull, like a layer you can’t shed off. It’s not that you’re saving yourself for marriage or are necessarily afraid of intimacy… It is instead fate who has funny ways of cockblocking you from gracing some dude’s bed.
You’re desperate to know what sex is like, not to mention, well, you are pent up and horny and agitated with no dick to take the edge off till this day — and your job certainly leaves you stressed out. No boyfriend whatsoever, because how do you handle one, being a Cleaner and living in HQs? It’s too exhausting just at the thought.
It’s not that finding a man to sleep with is difficult — you’re sure there’s many who would have jumped at the opportunity of popping your cherry.
No, you’d have preferred it to be a man you think you can trust, like other Cleaners that would try to protect your life should there be need to. And while maybe the idea of screwing your own teammate doesn’t sound most professional, you assume everyone here has done worse things, even between each other, not exactly always following strict work ethics… As long as you distance yourself emotionally, why would it ruin your relationships? It’s all fun.
With Gris crossed out on the list of candidates, you don’t think there’s really anyone else around to ask. Boss obviously is not an option, you have a bad feeling about Tamsy, Delmon still mourns his deceased wife (and who can take that size anyway…?), Bro Santa feels more paternal to you, August would tell everyone in a feat of excitement, Follo is probably a virgin himself…
Then there’s Enjin. And maybe with him, you could have good time, you’re about ninety-nine percent sure he’s into you, and maybe you do reciprocate that attraction, but it’s just…. no. You’re worried he’d brag about being your first, or even hold it over your head for a while after. Or he would laugh at you for being a virgin despite your age. Besides, hearing about his escapades to town, you don’t want to become just another woman on his to-do-list. He’s your friend you like to drink beer and play games with, not sleep with, unless you want to catch feelings for a man who also happens to not be most open emotionally or capable of handling a woman’s feelings.
Sleep hardly comes to you that night.
“Good mornin’.”
It Enjin’s raspy morning voice that pauses the train of your thoughts, that unfortunately have crossed the side into another day with you. He shuffles into the grayish, slightly worn out communal kitchen of the headquarters, scratching his hip under his long sleeve, all exhausted and with swollen eyelids. The metal chair screeches as he throws himself on it. Yawns. Then coughs up the morning phlegm like an old man, grossing you out.
“Good to who?” you grumble from above the stone counter, fumbling with the dilapidated coffee machine mocking you by providing little cooperation. “Especially when you’re making ruckus at seven A.M. in the morning.”
“Huh,” he mumbles to himself, trying to remember if he’s done anything appalling towards you yesterday. It’s difficult to brainstorm with a sleep fog lingering, but he can’t really recall anything too bad in the end... “Your coffee’s brewing, isn’t it? You’ll soon get your caffeine shot,” he says bluntly. “Don’t take it out on me.”
Dangerous move, assuming your emotions are fickle from something as simple as caffeine withdrawal… although he finds you as a bit angry kinda hot. A smidgen of passion never hurt nobody, if only enticed a simple guy like him.
He steals a glance at you right after “insulting” you. The worn out t-shirt you slept in but no bra under is a deadly combination that reveals the outline of your breasts, your shorts are barely peaking under the length of your tee as if you might as well have none on… The intrusive thought comes, as he half a mind considers dropping something just to see you bend down, but he chases it away — you’d probably kill him once you catch up to his scheme anyway, and his murder is not as hot. He burns the image in his head for a later reference instead.
As for you, you don’t say anything in response — you only send him a glare before turning your head around to not let yourself be provoked further. You don’t need more headache. Any other day, you would catch up with him by blabbering about your latest mission and injuries you suffered, complain about your own team, brag about a cool trick with your Jinki — he’d too in return — but nothing hearty is initiated this time.
He’s not deterred by it, standing up and coming closer to you, with the saunter drowsiness brings. Up close, he eyes your face intensely, as if it will give him an answer to your moodiness, as long as he bothers you long enough.
And you hate how observant he can be, quite often at that. Always investigating someone’s personal interests.
He looks ridiculous to you, squinting his bleary eyes. “What?” you bark out, reaching out for your favorite mug you then slam down next to your prepared breakfast, as you can’t handle the suspense he’s creating.
“You’re pissed off about something,” he voices the obvious, like it’s a conspiracy theory.
“Yeah, you,” you mutter, finally pouring your coffee in.
He rolls his eyes and yawns again. “Figures. And besides me?”
You scoff. “Like I’m telling you anything.” He’d probably laugh at you — both for your failure with Gris, and as well the one to be laid for so long. Or even worse — he’d tell you you lacking sex is where your attitude comes for.
“Why not? Come on, don’t you want to give your best buddy Enjin some juicy gossip?” he says with a subtle taunt in his rasp, leaning in closer to you until you feel a bit hotter in your face.
You can’t be that desperate, that just a bit of male attention works on you! Although, with his hair still down in the morning, or his sweatpants hanging low on his hip, it’s reasonable you are be distracted. This is how male birds flaunt their appeal to a female, so you heard somewhere; knowledge on animal species is still being gleaned on the Ground, yet you have a feeling their mating rituals ironically are not so different from the women and men’s one.
“No,” you say eventually, stern, remembering the question still stands. You elbow his stomach to dominate your personal space again.
“Ouch!” he hisses, stepping away from you as if you just burned him. “I’m a victim of violence over an innocent question?”
A bit smugger, you rest your back against the counter. “I don’t need your cigarette breath on me. Who smokes before eating anything?” you mock.
“Fine, have it your way,” he says reluctantly— and dramatically — before leaning against the same surface, almost knocking the cupboards with his head due to his height. Damn him being tall too... The worst men receive the best gifts. “I’ll find out… one way or another anyway.”
“No, you will not!” you say, affronted, and take a loud, aggressive sip. You make an educated guess he’s deliberately inciting your mood to be worse.
“Yes, I will,” he mocks in return, mimicking your appalled tone, then laughs at your unimpressed look. “Okay, I won’t pry, just cause I don’t want your retaliation,” he sighs as if he let go of a good deal, just for you. “But I’ve got a hunch you’ll tell me on your own terms anyway,” is added cockily.
You shake your head, tired of his assertiveness. You’d rather not have a big mouth around him, but Enjin happens to have a talent for opening up people… or sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong in general. You only hope Gris will keep his shut. “Anyway. Are you going to just stand there, or…?”
“Oh, I’m not hungry yet,” he throws nonchalantly. To be expected when he smokes first thing in the morning. Although, he still might be hungry for something else.
“Then why are you even there?” you ask with confusion, wondering if he made his trip here only to annoy you.
“Well…” he drawls, thinking of a quick excuse. Saying he's there to charge his energy for the day by ogling and teasing you isn’t the best clincher. “Coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee,” you point out bluntly. “Thankfully.”
“Maybe I want to try one made by you,” he musters something beguiling, if not straightup flirtatious, smirking.
“Yeah, right.”
Dammit. You don’t believe him and that sucks for Enjin, because lately, he’s been making many useless routes around you just to “run into you.” One too many of the unexplainable events and you’ll know he’s been following you, as a result of something very pesky to him about himself making him want to see you often — and it’s not just your delicious body.
“Yeah, no, I was just…” he shuffles around the cupboards, pulling out a few snacks. “Getting those for Rudo before others can get their hands on those later. But don't tell anyone.” He winks at you, internally believing he made a smooth exit out of before he could be caught in a lie.
Except, you think you can’t be that stupid. You can tell there’s something up, the unnatural nervous energy about him, even if his explanation is plausible; however, you plan to ignore the conundrum until you’re done with your rejection-woes.
“Huh. Yeah. My mouth's sealed. Anyway. I’ve gotta get ready for a mission, so…” you grab your plate and mug, suddenly feeling exposed in your pajama you were too lazy to change from yet.
“Alright.” He doesn’t tell you what a bummer it is you’re leaving so soon.
“And, Enjin…” you stop two steps after. “Sorry for snapping at you for no reason,” you say reluctantly. Looking back at you snapping at him over your personal affairs, maybe you were too rough on him…
He doesn’t gloat at your admission, nodding once, as if appreciating you taking responsibility. “Good call. Thanks,” he acknowledges calmly.
But when you pass him on your way out the kitchen, right as he’s lighting up another cigarette of this morning, he gives your ass a good look.
And you can feel that gaze.
“I saw that!” you scold from behind your shoulder and move faster to scurry away from him. “I’m taking that apology back, you don’t deserve my kindness!”
“Right, my bad,” he replies unabashedly, “Just don’t forget about the upcoming grouping.”
When you’re gone, he cusses under his breath, letting out an exhale so dense it ricochets across the empty room. You’re entering his head like an uninvited, nagging, and pushy guest far too often. One time even, as he was helping you fix cupboard door with loose bolts, he let it fall on his head instead of holding it properly for you because he got distracted by the sight of your top riding up from your arms reaching high.
“She’s a trouble,” he complains aloud to no one.
Most of the Cleaners tend to spend their free time on their own. It’s really Enjin who organizes any outings between you; drags others along to towns with him if he has to.
Tonight, it’s the kind no kids are not allowed to — his own team stays behind, while it’s you, him, Semiu, Gris, as well other willing adults that tag along.
The air in this club is steamy from the heat dancing bodies create, shoving each other at the brick walls covered in old alcohol advertisements, especially that the capacity of this popular space must have been exceeded a long time ago. Youth gathers here the most, looking for escape from shitty jobs; they occasionally bump into your shared black table that’s as rocky as they are. The tiled floors are sticky, and turned gray inadvertently years ago.
But Enjin finds it particularly difficult to concentrate on having fun for once.
He’s not adjusted to seeing you in anything else than your uniform or clothes to lounge around the base. That shorter dress of yours, tight and off shoulders, in your favorite color, is certainly a conspicuous man lure. It might be dark here — even for a glam scene moderate light is supposed to create — as the old bulbs still wait to be replaced, yet he’d recognize the shape of your body everywhere. Then there’s your makeup, lips plumpened with gloss, and whatever magic Riyo did with your hair for her fun.
To his dismay, this outfit works out for you well. You’ve been gaining attention and traction ever since you walked into the place, and to add fuel to the fire, you’ve been sending mutual looks to some of the men around. He can’t tell if you’ve always been the flirty type and you hid it from him, or is it something about today’s weather.
The place is stuffy, smells like vodka and vomit, which only irritates him further. The air is trash inside, the literal trash air is trashy outside too, when do you even catch a break?
It’s only some guys that give up when they see his glare, Enjin’s bull eyes peaking through his smoke like the red dot of his cigarette, a warning road sign hanging next to you. Givers generally don’t have the best reputation among normies, as they’re seen as materialistic and overly attached to their possessions. But it’s also about their gaze that is oftentimes dull and razor in comparison to other people; it’s the cockier ones that remain dauntless in face of Enjin.
“Someone catching your eye?” Semiu teases you, arm draped over the back of your chair. “You've been eying quite many men lately, I noticed.”
Enjin looks at you both with suspicion — smartly seated across you for a better view. It’s clear you and Semiu know something he doesn’t.
“On a hunt today?” he butts in scornfully, and you don’t like his sudden attitude that’s been throwing you off. He's been killing the mood since you stepped inside. No yapping about his team’s achievements today, that Rudo this, Zanka that and all that jazz.
You tense up defensively — no, seriously, what is his problem? “Something like that. I must have fun once in a while, right? It's the least I deserve for putting my life on the line all the time…” you speak with sarcasm.
“Guess so… though you immediately running after some douchebag kinda beats the purpose of coming to the bar with your friends,” he’s really bitter, brows pinched together. “Just don't ditch us too soon.”
You can’t believe his sudden aggressiveness — who does he think it is to dictate your behavior, out of all people too?
“You’ve got plenty of people to talk to. Other tables with our guys to join. And don’t act as if you wouldn’t be doing the same,” you glare at him. You’ve been sipping on a tawdry cocktail as to prevent yourself from getting wasted and ruining your plan to conquer some guy, but in the end, you might need something stronger to be able to deal with Enjin’s brattiness.
“Touche,” he mutters and takes a cigarette drag a bit viciously. “But the difference between you and me is that I at least organized the fun for everyone.”
“Yet it’s not like I’d have any fun with you when you have a stick up your ass today anyway,” you grumble, entertaining the idea of stabbing him with a tiny drink umbrella in your hand. It’s a grueling labor, avoiding his moodiness to shatter your excitement for tonight.
“Oh yeah?” he mocks and points a dramatic finger at you, like it's some kind of accusation brewing. “You sure gonna have a lot of fun looking like that,” he drops a bomb on you.
He realizes what he said when your mouth falls open and the table turns silent; or rather, he realizes what it sounded like. While he was just a projecting and jealous idiot, he ended up sounding like a chauvinistic pig without meaning to.
“Looking like what?” you and Semiu synchronize angrily, daring him to finish his nasty thought. Gris knocks his ankle under the table, scolding.
Enjin raises his hands (and cigarette) in a placating gesture. “Wait, you got it all wrong, silly,” he laughs off, simultaneously getting rid of his stress the idea of losing your approval brings. “I mean to say: looking gorgeous. But yeah. Who am I to stop you? Go ahead and have your fun.” He shrugs.
“Hmph. Thought so,” you say with head high, eyeing his simple pants and t-shirt up and down. He can't say anything on your spotless look when he barely put any effort into his!
And soon, ironically, and very unfortunately for Enjin, the fun does end up coming to you.
The man who approaches your table is immediately stared down by him, but this one doesn't relent, leaning down to whisper something to your ear that almost makes you giggle. A type of guy to wear a polo shirt with a fit too tight to accentuate the muscles he pumped to catch attention of women and all.
Enjin is forced to watch you being stolen from him in front of his very eyes. You and your pretty dress walking off with that beau, heading to the dance floor.
He doesn’t know who is he more mad at. He for sure now knows he regrets taking you here.
“Why you’re giving her a stink eye all evening? She's looking pretty, she should be getting it all out,” Semiu says dryly, disrupting Enjin’s war of thoughts.
“Not that I care,” he scoffs and crushes his cig butt into the ashtray. That’s the thing about Enjin — he can be quite dramatic, and when he does, he looks absolutely childish. “I’m doing just peachy,” he sighs, trying to not sulk over his loss of your presence.
“Easy now with that attitude,” she teases. “You’ve had a long day of doing absolutely nothing. Must be exhausting!”
Gris has been watching the bickering all this time in contemplation. He has a pretty good idea of what you’re attempting to obtain from these men, and he’s unsure how Enjin would react if he were to know — only that it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. He stays silent about that truth, choosing to distract his friend.
“Hey, Enjin, how about we play pool—”
“No,” Enjin shuts his offer immediately.
He huffs in disbelief. “So you’re going to stare at her like a murderer all night?”
“Not staring. Watching. Look at these guys, they’re just… shady,” Enjin says grumpily. He slumps himself in his chair, crossing his tattooed arms before he turns into a guard dog.
Semiu and Gris send each other exasperated looks. Their colleague is not someone they want to nanny tonight.
“Well, it’s not like she can’t help herself in case she needs to. She’s not defenseless, so why won’t you just mind your business?” Semiu scowls and stands up. She’d much rather find a nice girl to talk to than witness Enjin’s whining all night. “I have to get away from this party pooper,” she mumbles to herself.
“Just making sure nothing bad happens,” Enjin replies nonchalantly, not even looking at her, as he locks into monitoring you, playing with his umbrella.
It's hard to locate you amid the flutter of dancing people and kaleidoscope of colorful lights, but when he does… You’re apparently having a lots, lots, and lots of fun.
When he previously thought of you dancing, he didn't expect it to be… this debauchery. You backed up against a male body, it not even belonging to your previous catch anymore, but to a new one as if you are passing men around, his hands all over your body… as you move to the rhythm of music, grinding together. He’s seen you flirt with men occasionally before, yet it has never quite reached this level.
This is perhaps a price Enjin has to pay for not making moves on you much earlier. It is definitely a nightmare played out in reality to him. How do you cope with multiple men touching the woman you’re into, all transpiring in the momentum of one night? There’s adrenaline coursing through his veins, and it’s a miracle he’s still sitting in that chair. His hand flexes its fingers, and some kind of anxiety lingers in his stomach.
He tries to look away. He really does, remembering Semiu’s smart words. He tries to concentrate his gaze on another appealing woman he’d normally love to chat with. Who is he to stipulate what you do and with whom?
Yet there's this ugly feeling brewing in him, a foreign concept to him, and Enjin is incapable to accept the notion you're into someone else and that you’d dare to let them touch you so easily, unused to this vision. Every heart brutality sent his way is on top of you ignoring his flirts for the past months, like he’s lesser than strangers.
He barely hears Gris trying to talk sense into him, busy watching your dress’s skirt ride up your bare thighs with every sway of your hips he thinks he’d treat better than any of those horny leeches. Then buy you a drink (and maybe some other stuff on different occasions if you smile at him like that enough.) The only positive is that you look absolutely gorgeous while you’re at your ritual.
He didn't feel this envious even the day someone else won a ticket lottery for Too Lily’s concert.
Enjin’s not the one to loose his cool easily, nor is he the one to react with aggression on a regular basis — even during fights. But he might as well go to hell for his transgressions tonight, as this much — you being entertained by some other asshole — he can’t let go of.
He stands up straight, hastily inhaling the leftovers of his drink for a confidence boost.
“And where do you think you’re going, Enjin?” Gris asks sternly, having enough of his infantile games. He’d prefer to stop any fight from escalating out.
“That guy over there with her looks like trouble. Don’t trust him one bit. I’ll keep an eye on her from up close,” he makes an excuse, not caring whether it’s believable or not. In a way, he does find many guys here shady, because… well, he’s a guy himself, surrounded by many other guys, and so knows what his kind can be like. There is some protective urge gnawing at him. “Watch after Umbreaker!”
“Enjin!” Gris calls him from behind but has to give up when he notices his friend has already disappeared into the crowd. Going after him would only create more commotion, so he counts on you putting him in his place and Enjin normally straying from whittling down people. He shakes his head with annoyance and chugs down his beer.
Hopefully no teeth will be smashed into smithereens tonight.
You’ve gotten really invested into the process of suitor chasing, alcohol in your bloodstream aiding you. You’re circling yourself between different men, making assessments of their likeability before you can choose the winner of the night. You’re no longer looking at their face, only judging how good you feel in their arms from behind you. The fact you’re doing this around strangers is as marginal, considering they’re busy with their own affairs.
Your favorite song is playing, the smoke machine is filtering through and adding to the sultry atmosphere, and blinking lights turn you dizzy, going with the rhythm of your body that you have to turn up your workout. Nothing can go wrong when you’re having this much fun.
Eventually, the one you end up with has really handsome hands, that stay steady and rhythmic on your hips. Big, calloused, with a strong grip on your hips. Nice.
You lean back against his toned chest, more comfortably, smelling cigarettes through the crowd of different colognes and perfumes. The mysterious stranger has to be tall too, and as his hands don’t wander around too fast — not out of modesty if he moves skillfully and sensually, awaking your nerves — you think that maybe he might be the one. You don’t need to turn around to see his face to know he’s got a nice body on him, or that he’s especially capable of paying attention to your needs rather than solely grabbing curves for himself.
He’s only awfully quiet, which you absolve him of by assuming he wants you to focus on his touch first and foremost.
Him presumably about to grind against you like those men before, you think the least getting-to-know-him thing to do is to look down at his hands over your hips, feasting on the sight; but when you do, different swirls and lines mix into your blurry vision.
Maybe the lighting here isn’t the best, you’re tipsy too, but a bad feeling starts gnawing at you the more you concentrate on his arms, your mind churning a familiar photographic memory. Dark, intricate patches and lines contrasting the lighter skin, condensed the most across the bottom of his hand and forearm. Black nails, except for the pinky fingers. There’s many people here whose skin is adorned by tattoos, but this is too specific.
“Enjin?” you ask, astonished by your realization.
What. The. Fuck.
You're too scared to whip your head around, refusing to confirm this mindfuck-worthy discovery. Your body is rigid.
The suspect tenses up behind you, although, doesn't stop moving you two, and you almost trip over your own feet, moving along only out of shock — and it’s not as if there’s much space to get away within the first place.
Finally, he allows himself to speak and reveal his identity.
“Yes?”
He has shoved himself between other men in order to retrieve you from them — smarter than fighting, astounding in audacity nevertheless.
“What are you—” words barely leave your mouth, as you’re still dumbfounded. What’s gotten into his rotten mind to decide to do this? He’s never come this close to you before.
“So what if it’s me? You’ve been dancing with many men tonight, I shouldn’t be any different?” he speaks with some irritation lingering in his voice, close to your ear, in result teasing it with shivers.
You can't tell if his he’s shaming you for your indulgence, or is making a counterargument, but it’s difficult to deny his body has been feeling nice on yours. You’ve been thinking about him a lot lately yourself, that now, you haven’t acted with rejection yet.
“None of them are my teammates…” you argue weakly. “You fucker…”
“Hm, fair point, but are they this nice?”
His fingers stroke your hips, rubbing faint circles, before squeezing on them and tugging you closer — and your stomach rushes with butterflies, against your good conscience. Are you this sensitive from alcohol, or is he that good with his hands?
“Enjin…” you murmur shakily, sensing that your defenses are falling apart under just a little of dexterous stroking.
“Yes?” he drawls, leaning down to rest his face in your nape, and his hair grazes your nerves even more.
You feel his heart thrumming against your back. He’s not immune to you either… though that much you could predict from his boner starting a formation poking at your ass. “What prompted this?”
His hands tighten on you, previous anger making its presence for one more moment. “You can’t trust these guys,” he abuses that excuse again.
“And I can trust you?” you’re confused about his hypocrisy, as you are offended by it, finally turning your head to face him. You blow air at the sweaty strand of hair coming across your face, frustrated. Enjin is always so keen on staying secretive about his past; he might as well be another stranger to you.
He doesn’t reply immediately, forgetting anything existent when your eyes lock with his; both pairs buzzing with lustful energy, electrifying.
When he remembers to speak, with him amused by a cute puckering of your lips from indignation, suddenly his anger begins to disperse: if it weren’t for these dudes before, he wouldn’t be there with you, so maybe he ought to be grateful. “That’s for you to judge. However…”
His hands wander up to your waist, slow, as he observes the way your lacquered mouth parts open in response, and he rubs at your side.
“You said you wanna have some fun, didn't you? Don’t think I didn't notice the way you look at me sometimes. Even just this morning, for example…”
The fact he has caught you staring fills you with embarrassment; although, the traces of arousal between your thighs make it harder to care about being exposed.
Two can play that game, apparently. He’s pulled to you, you push, until he pulls you close himself. Repeated daily.
“I…”
“It doesn’t matter. Just focus on me,” he assures lowly.
You shouldn’t be doing that, but you end up relenting to his whims, alcohol and feelings winning over.
You close your eyes, letting your ass roll with his crotch, side to side, until you fall to the rhythm of slutty remix playing. It’s still all new for you to feel a man’s bulge pressing into you. You shiver from the sensitivity it brings, and while you might have not done this before, you can tell he’s packing a nice size in his pants.
As for Enjin, he’s losing his mind, having you this close — his dick has never been more painful in its hardness, your perfume taunts his nose, and it’s a heaven you haven’t pushed him away. The weight of your body against him will ghost him for a while. And then goes that dress again…
Soon, you get lost in him and the music. Your body is all hot, your blood pumping everywhere, and it’s not alcohol — even more so when you hear his sighs near your ear. Your tension is growing quickly, especially when at some moment Enjin bends you over a little…
Too quickly — because he brushes against your panty-clad outline after your dress finally reveals it, bringing a foreign sensation to those regions, and you refuse to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone, when a contact this direct almost allowed for a shameful sound to leave. So much for drunk and horny confidence, when you get scared by a bit of petting and actual grinding, having not anticipated it. With other guys before, you’d leave before anything too serious could develop, not finding them that interesting.
You’re suddenly pushing yourself away from him. But he keeps you close, thinking you’ve simply come up with the maddening idea of being a tease.
“Let me go, Enjin,” there's clear fluster in your voice, as there is some forcefulness behind it to assert yourself decision enough.
You yank again and again and it’s only then when he finally lets you go, worried about making a scene that could cause misunderstanding, as well your reaction.
“What’s gotten into you so suddenly?” he asks with confusion.
You don't answer, quickly making your exit without looking back, on chase to separate yourself from an embarrassing encounter.
“Hey, wait, I'm sorry if I get ahead of myself, but you were—” he tries to summon you back, going after you through the tight corridor of other people you butt into and irritate this way. His heart is pounding, as he wonders if he just ruined any chance with you, even if you clearly were into him here for a sec.
He grabs your wrist only after you escaped the crowd, stopping you short before you could get away further.
“You're seriously going to ignore me after this?” his tone turns grave from the thought at your cowardly audacity.
“It was a mistake,” you say roughly, trying to remove his grip.
To your relief, Enjin lets you go, not wanting you to bruise yourself from the struggle; however, he’s on guard, ready to stop you again in case you think of running without some explanation.
Remaining silent for few seconds, he tries to gauge your feelings. You’re moody, appearing a bit troubled and tired by something, all that excitement from before gone.
“Mistake how? I would have thought it’s because of me, but, uh, you looked oddly shy all of a sudden…” he sounds openly suspicious. Oddly, as coming from someone who was ready to conquer the male cluster tonight.
He’s really too smart for his own good. Words get stuck in your throat, and you have to sit down from the alcohol blues coming in, choosing a spot at the empty booth behind you. You only perch yourself on the edge of the leather red seat, ready to flee the hell away from him should the conversation progress in a wrong direction.
“Well?” he prods further. “You're gonna tell me what’s going on, or does the little escapee feel like avoiding me for the rest of the night?”
You pick on your dry cuticle, shuffling your feet from restlessness too. “That’s… none of your business. I really don't want you laughing at me,” you finally reply, words coming out clumsily.
“And how would you know I'd laugh at you, whatever it is about?” he’s affronted, as if you have no faith in him.
Your face deadpans — it’s obvious.
“Fine, maybe I laugh at others sometimes—” you raise your brow, “half of the time,” he corrects himself dramatically, “but what if I promise I won't laugh at you? I can tell whatever this is, that it matters to you,” he grins like a seller, thinking he’s so nice to you.
“I don’t believe you,” you say outright.
Enjin scowls and ruffles his hair, offended you can’t appreciate his kind offer. “You’re being difficult.”
As if he isn’t just nosy. As if you didn’t hug his boner few minutes ago.
“Whatever,” he acquiesces with a heavy sigh. “Let’s make a deal, so you can stop second-guessing me. If I laugh at you, you’re allowed to ask Gris about one very embarrassing for me moment. Eye for an eye. You can have all the giggling fit shit that you want if I ever laugh at you first.”
When you think about it, that’s rather honorable of Enjin. Nonetheless…
“But why do you even care.” You stand up, approaching him more closely again, as if you’re gearing up to squeeze something honest out of him.
He eyes you warily, while his heart picks up a familiar pace of excitement he can’t accept till this day. As for your question, he thinks you don’t need to know the real reason, nor is he good at vocalizing those type of feelings.
“Well…” he scratches the back of his head and looks around — anything to avoid seeing your cleavage and becoming your fool again — everyone seems to have great fun, except for you two huddling this corner of the club. “I'd much rather know why, than stay thinking I came out as a creep to you. Set things straight between us...”
As well know your secrets goes unsaid. It’s some weird type of responsibility sense, watching after other’s troubles. He’s taking on that role with his “kids” all the time, for example. But above all, with you, he needs to know it all with even more urgency.
For you, you suppose that’s fair — not wanting any loose ends. You have to reap what you sow because you didn’t stop the dance on the spot and now you owe him an explanation for the sudden rejection.
Being mature enough by communicating is so much trouble if you’re not even able to at least reward yourself by bringing any man to some motel with you.
“If we must have this conversation, let’s have it tomorrow when we have sobered up. I’m suddenly feeling exhausted,” you say listlessly.
He lights up a bit, as weird as it is to you. “So it’s a deal?”
You hold him in suspense, staring at him with some type of theatrical disdain. “Yeah, it’s a deal.”
You spit at your palms before connecting them for a handshake.
When the next day arrives, you think you don’t remember the last time you were this nervous; not even the usual missions have you this apprehensive like one conversation to have does.
Telling Gris about your sex life, or lack thereof, was quite easy in comparison to telling Enjin, as you find the first rather comforting when he’s not exercising his inhumane strength on trash beats.
Resided in your room and warming your bed for the sake of stability the familiar space brings, your nerves are still wracked when your space is being disturbed by the possible end of your reputation breathing down your neck.
Meanwhile, Enjin has been forced to sit on a tiny stool of your vanity table, as if going through some punishment, picking up every of your possessions he has no clue what they’re for.
However, it’s a tiny discomfort to the reveal you make soon.
“You’re a what?”
His jaw is hanging low in shock, and your powder brush falls on the wooden surface. He could feel it's something big in his bones, but you still being a virgin, that’s unprecedented to the idea of you he has had in his head all this time. He’s known you for quite a while, and yet, somehow something so significant has slipped his way.
You anticipate his laughter, or at least a snicker to make it in character. You’re pretty sure if it was anyone else confessing, he'd be laughing in a robust way you old virgin, before eventually choosing to give some backhanded yet useful and life-changing advice and assurance. But nothing comes to violate your ears.
He himself has no idea what to do with this confession.
“Don’t make me say it again,” you mumble, picking at the threads of your blanket. It’s the worst moment, anticipating what kind of opinion he’ll express.
“But…” he trails off as he stands up, not knowing what to do with himself either. He takes a few steps back and forth across your limited space floor before looking at you with confusion, trying to crack the code like a man who was suddenly deprived of any brain cells.
Math isn’t mathing here. He literally remembers — vividly at that — what you were doing last night.
Unless… it was a ploy to find your first guy. Just a one rather bold and straightforward.
“How is that possible?” he exclaims with frustration, his hands on the hips. “I mean… it’s not that you’re bad-looking,” he gulps at the thought of you when you— “Besides, some men will get their hands on everything. How come you are still one?”
“It was more of my decision…” you admit awkwardly. You’re a tiny bit relieved he’s not turning his lung upside down from laughing at you, although you were not prepared to be bombarded with questions.
“So you’re a prude?” he asks bluntly, sitting down again.
You forgot that lack of laughter still doesn't contradict the existence of foul mouth.
You shut your eyes, exhale deeply as to not let yourself be provoked, and open them with scornfulness etched over your face. “Not necessarily,” you say in a brusque tone.
He weighs your answer, wondering how much he can get away with fooling around before you’d turn too defensive and kick him out; you’ve got to have your blood boiling from embarrassment already, that's why he takes on a route of being a better listener.
“Then what is it?” He sits down again. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leans forward.
He's overly curious to your liking. You could have just finished the conversation here, as soon as you gave him the evidence it wasn’t him but your fears that you underestimated that had you running away last night. However, you’d rather shut this chapter close. And maybe, just maybe, you want him to know. The worst part of this avowal is behind you, right?
“Well… you know how it is,” you start, speaking with more evenness. “Growing up as a Cleaner, I never had a chance to settle down with anyone. And while men in the nearest settlements exist, I was too invested in fighting to even bother with finding anyone… not to mention, I didn’t want it to be a bad experience...”
Well, those arguments personally have never stopped Enjin from pursuing other people — what else can you do between the missions and not go crazy? Nonetheless, yours are still sound. Everything makes more sense now — flaunting yourself to these guys yesterday was about finding one to lose your virginity to.
“Until now,” he finishes the conclusion for you with a hum of annotation, “So you’re finally tired of waiting?”
You nod. Suddenly, your body feels much lighter, cathartic after making all that admission. Now you can move on, and—
“Does that mean I ruined your hunt?” he cups his chin in thought, as he tries to not sound satisfied. That idea shouldn't make him so happy.
Forget it. You grow irked again, your eyelid twitching as you’re brought to remember the failure Enjin enforced on you. “You did, now when I look back at yesterday,” you huff out with anger, crossing your legs and resting your face against your hand in sulk. “Why did you get in my way anyway again?!”
You throw a pillow at him he catches anyway.
Upon your question, he looks to the side to be avoidant, he himself turning fairly grumpy. It’s not as if he could admit he felt unreasonably jealous. “Told you these guys seemed shady.” Same old excuses.
“And I’m not a child. I can take care of myself,” you declare sternly.
“You were also drunk,” he points out stubbornly.
“Not the first time, not the last time. And even if you were to be right, you couldn’t simply pull me away from them?”
You suddenly recall the way he danced with you. It makes your body throb with heat, you have to adjust your position. Wrangling with him is getting tiring, but there’s also something very hot about it, the chemistry you can’t deny.
Then it finally hits you, and you feel so dumb for not realizing that earlier. It’s just that you never imagined Enjin to be the type, and that theory escaped your mind when you were busy stressing out about what you did with him.
“Wait… Were you jealous or something?”
That’s got to be it. The only plausible explanation for him being overprotective out of the blue.
His eyes widen and a lump gets stuck in his throat. “Fuck no,” he replies viscerally, sitting up straight as if he was burned. His thoughts are racing, as you battle each other with eye contact meanwhile. Your steel gaze covers him with cold sweat, and his mouth opens up to form a curse that never leaves from how speechless you’ve rendered him. Accusation like this shouldn't be giving him plethora of heart jumpscares, he shouldn't be so defensive, but you’ve been having funny ways of messing with his brain inadvertently.
In conclusion, you knowing the truth about the extent of his possessiveness would be his pride taking a hit.
“I’m not,” he puts the pressure on his words.
At this point, he’s dragging on the inevitable.
You frown, standing up. “Then what would even be your problem, huh? And no, I don’t believe you for a second it’s about being protective.”
“Tsk. Don’t act like our attraction isn't mutual,” he mutters quietly.
“What was that?”
“I’m telling you, I’m not jealous!” he leans forward and ruffles his hair out of frustration. This is really hitting his ego. His heart. Whatever that is making him so susceptible to you.
You realize the tiny power that gives you. It’s not often you see him like this, stumbling over his words, a telltale of some sort of vulnerability.
You turn this discovery into teasing him, getting back at him spoiling your fun, as you inch closer. “You were jealous, yes, you were!”
He admires you in secret, for your wrong and right, but your jokester move is too much at the moment. Enjin grits his teeth, raising his head up to look at you with almost a plea to stop. Let him have this one. “Stop, I don't know even know what’s jealousy—”
But you’re relentless, smirking as if you won. “It’s okay to admit that you are. Maybe I’ll make it better for you after.”
Until he can’t take it anymore.
He makes a space for you between his legs, then is drawing you close by your waist before tugging down on your hair so your lips can meet his.
He was indeed jealous.
He’s kissing you. He’s actually kissing you. To shut you up, although, if you desperately seek your truth, this is the only way he’ll let you on the window of his heart.
You stand frozen in stupor at first, while his mouth is moving already. Your rationality tells you to push him away, to not make things even more complicated between each other; your body says fuck you. You dig your palms into his thighs and kiss him back with twice fervor, pulling out a gasp from him.
At least this one is something you have experience in.
Your own emotions erupt, catalyzed by the shocking gesture. All that tension that's been hanging over you like a cloud that could never rain until a thunder struck it; your dissatisfaction with him; your attraction for him.
You bite at his lip with anger that he groans, and he pulls on your hair harder, deepening the kiss. His other hand wanders up to your face, tilting your face so he can lick across your lips before pushing tongue in.
You moan at the sensation enhanced by keeping your eyes closed, rolling your tongue with his. Tasting tobacco, smelling tobacco shooting straight through his cologne, experiencing his strong grip on you, you feel yourself getting heated up. There’s nothing on your mind other than him, your hate too, and if someone were to interrupt you two now, you’d probably want to kill them.
Enjin shares your sentiment especially, humming, as he’s having the time of his life. Both of your chests are going at the crazy rate. He’d rather regret some things later than now let you go. Maybe he would never gather enough confidence in any other circumstances, so if it’s possibly his only kiss with you, so be it.
You eventually end up on his lap, drawn down by him, as his hands begin a tantalizing route over your body. Then they go down to your hips and ass that he squeezes handsomely until you whimper, and now it’s you tugging on his hair, his Choker, and brushing his chest with an angry growl, until you both start a game of trying to one up another.
Your results are messy, with teeth clinking, but you can’t stay away as if every brush of lips is not hard enough.
It’s only when your oxygen is sparse that you forcefully pull away from Enjin who would gladly go longer, even at the expense of his breath.
You take a step back and stumble on your feet, breathless and dazed, as you fix your hair. You stare at each other: Enjin’s honey eyes are hooded with desire, while yours are no better. There's even some flush decorating his face.
You plop yourself back on your bed, slowly coming back to reality. “What… what was that…” you ask quietly, trying to shake yourself awake. Your heart goes for your throat, and your nerves are still pretty much awake, as if awaiting more touch.
“You wouldn’t have shut up otherwise,” he scoffs, although his features have softened. It’s not affection, it’s not tiredness, it’s some you-torment taking over he capitulates to.
You linger in silence, none of you winding up to comment on what happened.
You think you should kick him out at this point. You really should. You can’t start something that has no guarantee or even steady foundation. You should be mad he’s meddling with your sex life too. However…
He can tell what kind of troubled thoughts you’re experiencing, and since he’s not done getting to the bottom of your virgin issue, he decides to overstay his welcome.
“… Soooo,” he clears his thought, changing the subject for the sake of you two, as if the kiss didn't happen.
You think that’s maybe for the better, even if a switch up leaves a bitter taste in your mouth — on top of you still feeling him on you. “What is it?” you mutter.
“Do you plan on going back there again?”
“I guess so,” you say nearly bitterly, your mood turning sour after an awkward confrontation. As if he’s messing with you and you’re letting him. Playing push and pull. “Unfortunately, I have exhausted my other safe options?”
“What other options?” he narrows his eyes, jealousy striking again.
Uh oh. You implied that without thinking. “Well… I might have asked… Gris… to help me. He refused,” you say hesitantly, anticipating the worst reaction.
Enjin’s jaw drops for the second time today. He thinks that’s even worse. You fucking his own friend. It’s personal as hell. He clenches his jaw, glaring at you. Seriously, it's betrayal after betrayal.
“Let me get this straight. So you thought of asking my own friend you’re not even that into. Yet you didn’t think of asking me?!” he almost yells, all dramatic.
That’s his problem?
“I mean—” you stutter, not wanting to give him the real reason as to why he was excluded in case he becomes even more offended, even if you’re right to worry he might take you for granted. “Well, would you even do it?” You smooth out your covers, not wanting to look at Enjin.
“No way,” he snickers. He wants you — badly — yet, he doesn’t want the consequences of getting that close with you. Regardless of whether he’s offended you didn’t include him in or not.
Which also makes him a huge hypocrite because how do you refuse to sleep with a woman but also not want her to sleep with other men?
You glance at him, raising your brow. “Why not? Don’t you find me attractive?” now it's you being nosy. And maybe a bit offended yourself.
Seriously. What type of question it is. Of course he does. Just the imagination of having you, taking your virginity especially, as he teaches you to take him and subsequently ruins you for others, makes him insanely hard at the thought.
“Don’t let me make yourself question your looks, silly.” Even he wouldn’t go that far. “I simply don't want to look weirdly at you after the fact,” he says bluntly and stretches his arms above his head, tired of sitting in that tiny chair.
“How so?” you're confused, considering the previous events.
“Well… we work together, don’t we? Don’t wanna start being distracted mid job because I remembered.”
“Yet you danced with me. And now you kissed me?” you point out with exasperation. Your hands flail while you gesticulate, as if you were painting that image.
“Yeah… low effort, low risk. We’d probably not remember it a day after. As for the kiss… well… consider it blowing some steam off,” he says dismissively, hiding behind nonchalance.
That's just cold. You’d wince if you didn’t know he’s playing down the kiss, for some complex reason. He’s been more easy to read lately, whether he realizes that or not. You’re only being disrespected by that.
“It’s not like I would ask you anyway... I guess I’m back to bothering some guy in town. You can leave now,” you say, exhausted by that back and forth.
“… What?” he splutters from disbelief.
He forgot that just because he ruined your plans to lose virginity last night, doesn't entail you have given up on them entirely.
Enjin wants to believe the sudden distraught misplacement he experiences is coming from the raw need to protect you — against men willing to prey on your inexperience only — but he’d be lying if he said he didn't hate the thought of another man touching you just as much.
He used to think you're no virgin, yet finding out he could theoretically be your first, he is now aware of what is there to be taken granted for or never gain another chance for. Or what is out there for you to be hurt in a way different than coming from a nonhuman monster.
There’s many things and people to lose on the Ground in general, in this forsaken trash land, and so he’d like to keep you close to him. For some reason.
“You said you wanted a good experience,” his voice cracks from the slight panic. It’s so comical, you want to laugh a little.
You shrug your shoulders. “I also want to get done with it. I don't expect sparks.”
“No, no, listen—” he hesitates when you lower your brows over your eyes in suspicion. “I… I didn't know it’s that important to you. I can do it.” Those words leave his mouth instinctively. He almost regrets them when he catches up with reality, but he’s set in stone about being your first.
You look at him with surprise, taken aback about his sudden change of mind.
He immediately makes an excuse, logical. “You can’t trust those guys, strangers, yeah? Too rough, not clean enough, boring — and you’ll remember that for a while, if not forever. You don't want to let them hurt you either.” He leans back against your vanity more confidently, trying to sell you that opinion.
You know he’s not wrong about anything that can go wrong; it’s really the matter of sleeping with Enjin out of all people that boggles your mind.
While you like to believe you know better and can at least put effort into finding a right man to hook up with, a guy you’re into and you know suddenly feels safer after his suggestions and persuasions… after the kiss and the dance that both still have you with heads in the clouds also. He at least has proven he's good at those things.
You both must be insane to be entertaining that, but you have been dead set on losing your virginity for a while now. It’s a matter of getting over it, so you can know it’s like, as well start your sex adventure.
You stand up, crossing your arms. “Are you sure? Because I don’t want you chickening out in the middle because you changed your mind, wasting my time,” you're adamant about him being serious with you. No games for once.
“Yes…” he responds shakily, quite in disbelief you’re actually permitting that heaven for him. “As clear as day.” He stands up too.
“Alright then… but we’re doing this based on my rules. And we're still just friends after, right?”
The place you and Enjin end up settling on is his room. Or rather, you insisted that it’s his, refusing to associate the upcoming memories with your own room. You meet him close to midnight next Friday, knowing most people around will be busy in the common hall or out, reducing the likelihood of someone finding out what the duo of you is up to.
You’ve been here in the past, although back then it was only for an inquiry about something. You thought he’s messy, as he is wild, exactly replicated in his room: from the cigarette maker spilling scobs on the tiny TV stand, through the bottles clinking over the collapsing dresser, to the laundry on his chair still waiting to be stored. You noticed some porn magazine you’d tease him about, and then the wallpaper peeling off at some corners. He also needed to clean nasty dust from his dark furniture. The hefty smoke produced repeatedly had jaundiced some things yellow — transparent curtains especially. Under the terrible light of Enjin’s rusting desk lamp barely scratching the gloaming atmosphere, Too Lily’s poster was beamed at. It was only his precious Vital Instrument that received a reverent spot on a special hook specifically mount for it on the wall.
As for today, everything seems clean. The metal bed has fresh black sheets, the floors are swiped, distracting items other than the picture of his team are hidden, and his blond hair is seemingly still damp from showering. Enjin put in some effort into making sure you’re comfortable, or that he doesn’t embarrasses himself.
And coming inside his bedroom, Enjin didn’t immediately push you on bed or whatever you might have imagined about this setup with him. He was only back to his cocky self, eager to impress you.
He’s currently taking it slowly with you, getting you into mood, as well working against your nervous tension. His experience coming in handy.
“Feel me first.”
“H-huh?”
Enjin’s crotch is flush with your ass, taunting you with his bulge. It’s too much already for your untouched body, and your head spins at the friction. It’s like it was back at the club, except you’re now fully sober, taut as a bowstring; not to mention, you barely lasted waiting those few days of awaiting to see him (he was doing no better.)
“See what’s it like. Small steps. Get used to feeling me,” his teasing is tinged with tiny breathlessness on his own.
“I don’t need you to coddle me—”
He presses his hips closer in response, having you whimper. “Not coddling. It’s called foreplay, you stubborn woman,” he chides lowly. “Unless you want it painful.”
“I know what that is!” you exclaim. But when his hands get all over your torso, groping every curve and plush through your clothes, you start craving more of that foreplay. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not clueless…”
“Don’t complain,” he feigns a tut. “I’m being nice to you, you overthinker.”
He cups your breasts, fondling them through your tee — you dressed simply to not be conspicuous to others you pass on your way to this room, but (un)fortunately forgot to put on a bra after showering due to your stress having you all over the place, giving him this advantage by an accident. He is indulging himself with your chest already, like straight out of his wet dreams.
“And I know it feels good. Aren’t I so caring, taking it slow with you?” he taunts additionally.
You give him payback, pushing your hips harder at him that he grunts, even if it drives you mad as well.
“You can’t just—”
“Then don't provoke me, asshole,” you bite.
He snorts, a bit charmed by your spirit. “Even now, you have a spunk in you…
So do I.”
His hands slip under your shirt, roaming across your front. You get goosebumps immediately, your body absorbing a new touch on your skin.
Enjin groans at the weight of your breasts; your nipples are hardened already, forming nicely between his fingers. His cock twitches against your ass.
You're chewing on your lip, biting down any louder noises out of need to preserve your image; though, you can feel aches growing between your legs.
“All nice and sweet… how dare you keep this body covered for so long, huh?” his voice is a never ending reminder of his presence all over you, drawled and intimate.
“S-shut up…” you stammer, getting shamelessly hot amid the fluster his words bring. He’s so damn talkative, uttering things with every fiber of his being.
“I could shut up… but then how else I’ll keep you on your toes? I’m building up the tension,” his hands never stop fondling and you inhale sharply when he tweaks your bud.
You lean more against his chest, glad that you can’t see him just yet, needing something to hold onto. “Can’t you just fuck me already? I can take it…” you whine.
“Trust me, you can’t. Not yet.”
That claim only adds to your anxiety, as well the excitement, heat building up in your belly. Some guys overestimate their size, but you can literally feel that he’s not lying, his bulge growing with every of your noises.
Enjin kisses at your nape, above your Choker, while his hands keep playing with your chest, mostly squeezing gently.
It's all nice. Fuzzy. His hair tickles your skin, his lips spread warmth everywhere, and then he’s rubbing your nipples again.
“E-enjin…” you say shakily. No longer able to maintain composure, a moan slips out of your lips.
His name fallen from your lips is a sinful dessert, and he wonders just how many repetitions he can pull from you. Something tells him you can take more, as you fit in his arms and are succumbing to their magic rather quickly. Perhaps your yesterday affair was a testimony that you are that desperate.
“Shh. I've got you,” is pressed into your neck with another wet kiss, his lower lip dragging it.
Eventually, not many sounds can be kept inside your mouth barrier. They sound better than they did inside his head during imagination hours. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but he wants a siren like you.
It’s really hard for him to keep his ministrations strictly about you; to abstain from taking more immediate action.
“Ah, whatever, come here.”
He guides you onto his bed, pushing you down so your back lands on it.
You feel more vulnerable than you did before, lying with your chest heaving in anticipation.
He’s soon crawling to be above you, his hair framing his forehead — he didn’t bother to style his hair after washing, capable of looking even more handsome this way.
Your breath hitches when he moves between your legs and presses his hardness into your clothed cunt.
“You’re still doing fine?” he asks intensely, as he allows himself to take in you spread underneath him.
“Yeah…” you nod. Everything is a lot as ever, but you are not ready to give up on making this milestone.
“Good. Arms up.”
When you comply, your shirt is taken off, ensuring your chest is exposed and his for the taking. His goes off too, Enjin feeling hot and needing to feel your skin on his through no barrier. His tattoos come into your vision fully, as your mouth waters at his torso; their unique design form a question too, but you leave that for another time.
One hungry look is served at the sight of your tits and hips — ingraining his belief he’s never been more obsessed with a woman before. Then, without a word, his mouth is all over your neckline, as his hand caresses your waist. Enjin doesn’t bother to explain this process to you when he rolls his hips forward to grind into you, though proper words are knocked out of your mouth too.
His greedy kisses are wet and messy, you find yourself tilting your head for him when he launches an attack on your neck. “Enjin…” you call out quietly with a whimper.
“Mhm. Keep saying my name. It sounds nice when you’re not pissed at me once in a while…” he says with a low murmur, a few words every kiss.
He sucks on your skin around your Choker before lying down a tiny bite, as if to judge just how sensitive you are. He just can’t get enough of you once you let him on top of you, trailing saliva all over you, with his brain forming a disarray of emotions about how much your presence in his life constantly pushes him to be a man reduced to the one resting at your feet.
You yank his forearm from a surprise, feeling him hit a neuralgic spot.
“Gonna make you feel so good… just you wait…” he purrs into your throat, his cock throbbing at the throat of making you cry for him.
His mouth goes lower, giving your breasts proper attention. Grazing his teeth across the top of them before soothing your nerves with a quick kiss.
You can tell you’re getting nasty wet underneath your bottoms, your clit pulsing when he occasionally puts more pressure with his groin there. You're dizzy, overwhelmed from him targeting your body from both sides.
“S-slow down…” you mumble weakly, even if your hand goes to the back of his head to keep him close.
He makes a quiet growling protest, looking up at you from underneath his lashes. “No,” he licks at your nipple, watching you wriggle in reaction, “Don’t act like you don't need me.”
Because he for sure needs you.
Before you could tell him you would never need a man like him, he’s already shutting it down with a suck on your bud. Meanwhile, his hands holds your hips down, using them as a leverage to slowly keep thrusting forward.
You're losing your mind, digging your fingers into his nape. While your anxiety surrounding your first time still rules your mind, you start fantasizing about being fucked by him, spilling tiny moans from the stimulation he’s providing, as your body arches from the pressure of his mouth a little.
Enjin alternates between both sides, groaning every few from the friction on his clothed dick miserably trapped in his pants. He himself wonders just how much he can even afford, being with a woman he’s been dreaming about for months like a sore loser. Just your tits in his face is his undoing.
Tiny beads of tears gather across your lash line, and that motivates him to go further.
“You’re crying already?” he teases, though his eyes soften the tiniest bit from the way your lips tremble, proving you’re untouched.
“I’m not crying… I’m just sensitive…” you say petulantly, shyness tightening your chest.
“Right. It’s still a long way ahead for me to really mess with you,” he grins a little, adding to your fluster.
Just what exactly will he do with you?
He’s soon kissing down your stomach, coming dangerously low towards your abdomen, his hand playing and slightly slapping at the band of your pants as some kind of forewarning.
Your muscles tense up underneath his mouth and messy hair, skin prickling with tingles, as you circulate your breathing with ragged pace increasing itself. Your legs clench around his sides.
He’s growing brisk in his movements, needing to get into your pants asap. He’s about to see the pussy he’s been thinking of, imagining how you’d squeeze him when fisting his cock. Not to mention the few bonds destroyed because he thought of you when fucking another woman.
You can’t even care you’re exposed to your fricking coworker and a friend anymore; every kiss is one more to the excitement and nervousness of what he might do next.
And he doesn't plan on making it easy. Biding his time, counting his blessings to ensure he’s taken every part of you for his mind to rage about later. If you weren’t inexperienced, he’d love to keep you here all night.
“You’re gonna let me eat that pussy, yeah?” It’s not a question, if only the only right outcome for him, spoken deeply. Enjin looks up at you intensely, expectantly.
“You don't have to…” you trail off.
Him fucking you is one thing, him shoving his face into your loins is another, demanding more closeness… In hindsight, you expected a bit of stretching before being filled, in almost unceremonious fashion, sufficient enough to step away from the virgin title; Enjin seems keen on making your first impression much better. Whether it’s care, his kink, or perfectionism.
“But I want to. Be grateful for full service. It doesn't come cheap,” he teases, all arrogant. He could say it's just to get you more ready, but munchies also come to him in different forms.
Your pants are therefore stolen from you, slid down carefully down your trembling legs.
Enjin doesn't immediately get you buck naked, staring at you with a starving gaze, as he sits on his knees for a second. Irresistible is little to call you, for lack of a better word.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he asks lowly, tugging at the apex of your thigh and hip while his finger hooks itself around your panties. If you weren’t a nervous wreck, he’d just bruise your body by fondling it for hours, inspecting every part as enough material to be a content man.
You wriggle your hips, restless under his scrutiny, and he bites his lip with appreciation. Reality truly is much better than daydreamed visions.
“You better don’t hide anything from me tonight, you hear me?” is what he highlights before your panties are made to fly across the room, leaving you with nothing and all vulnerable.
“Just be quick with it…” you demand shakily, your tone anticipatory. It’s odd to let him see this part of your body.
But his mouth slacks at the sight of your untouched cunt, glistening from your wetness. He spreads your folds apart, imagining his cock between those, and you jolt at the foreign touch. “Would you look at that…” he mocks, embarrassing you. “I’m glad at least she’s been agreeing with me.”
“Why won’t you just—” you try to make him shut up, unused to hearing those things, but he's already lying down and spreading your legs to be between them. It happens so fast, you worry if you can even handle his enthusiasm.
He blows hot air onto your pussy, interrupting your talk that tries to arise again. “Yeah?” He rolls your clit with his thumb, up and down, eliciting more for him to eat from; your legs try to clamp on him immediately, taken aback by sudden force of tiny pleasure.
“E-Enjin…!”
“Uh huh. You weren’t lying…” he remarks — too cheerfully at your body state’s confirmation.
The fact he’s about to your first is really something difficult to not be smug about when he’s been eying you for months, and while he’s aware it’s a mean move to brag about that as if that’s all that matters, he believes it’s more elaborate than using you — especially that he strives to make you feel good.
It took him long enough to make a real move on you, after he almost lost you to some dude that who knows if he wouldn’t become your boyfriend after. So he wastes no time gluing his mouth to your slit, manhandling your thighs in effort of keeping his source open. He’s rolling around your clit with the tip of his tongue, licking a stripe upward, before slurping begins. His nose knocks at you as he goes down.
You tug on his hay blond strands with a moan, finding the sensation of his tongue lapping at everything your body produces with no gradual takeoff out of this world — as much as a new experience in this place is weird to come touch with. You wonder if he's been thinking about doing this to you before, for him to have no qualms about making you crazy from his mouth. Maybe he imagines the way he’d do it, only for all plans go to ruin because his only goal is to be voracious.
“So good…” he groans between the smacks of his lips, getting his face wet as he messily spreads ecstasy everywhere across your pussy. “You're gonna have to let me do this more often, hm?”
It feels good for you to, especially when his tongue gives your bud more attention or shallow dives inside, stretching you gently before something else will.
You’re quickly getting greedy, trying to hump his face, moaning higher and higher.
To your delight, he doesn’t stop you, only growing harder at the sight of your enjoyment and you taking what you need. The slight ache on his scalp makes him grind into the mattress, as he leaks pre-cum sopping his boxers.
If he ever decides to be boring and stop smoking, he suspects this is how he’s gonna deal with the mouth tics.
“Enjin… I’m…” you heave, whining from what he’s doing to you, suffocating his sides with your legs too.
“Mhm. That’s right. Make a mess on me. Show me what you crave,” he says hastily into you, spreading vibrations down your legs.
A tension is building up in your hips, needing desperately to be released. Your hole twitches, still waiting to be filled, as your clit throbs madly, pent up and about to snap. The temperature of your body feels as if doubled, sending more shivers into your system.
“Pleasepleasepleasegiveittome—” you sob as you finish, almost ripping his hair off, your feet kicking up.
Even after, Enjin, satisfied by your body indulged, doesn’t stop going, licking you clean. You have to forcefully pull him away.
He gasps, inhaling air as if he just ran marathon, stuck in a pussy-drunk state. All dazed by you staring back at him with teary and heated eyes, he has to shake himself off to remember his ongoing objective.
“Yeah, you’re fine, you’re fine. Come here, pretty girl.”
He maneuvers you to rest against his chest, between his legs, as he props himself against a pillow. You let him handle you, still coming down type of dumb. “Why are you holding me like that?” you gulp, overwhelmed by the warmth and sturdiness against your back.
“You’re asking a lot of questions for an amateur today. Stop stressing out, silly…” he says lazily, brushing the inside of your thigh.
It’s not like he can tell you he wants you close, for some reason.
You exhale irregularly, titling your head towards his shoulder for more steadiness. “But I want to know.”
“Let’s just say it’s more comfortable this way.”
He looks to the side at you, watching you chewing on your lip as you observe his hand getting closer and closer to your wet heat again. You’re no longer as nervous, too lustful to care about complications.
“You’re going to do something or not?” You’re growing impatient, needing yourself one step closer to him fucking you even if you just came.
He finally taps his fingers at your slit, as if scolding you for your hastiness. “You’ve gotta trust the process,” he murmurs into your ear, circling around your hole without pushing in yet. “No attitude.”
His index and middle finger prod at your mouth. “Get them extra wet.”
With a bit of hesitation, you suck on his digits, trying to coat them in much as saliva as possible. To him, the sight stirs his guts, another thing to remember for a while — your glazed over eyes, your mouth working hard on his hand as if it was his cock instead. He imagined you sucking him off many times.
When he finally pushes in one finger into your tight hole, his arms embracing you from the front, even just that feels plenty. Because one is thick and long, pulling apart at your virgin walls, and when his fingertip curls inside your hole, it grazes something good too.
You huff out air, as he slowly thrusts it in and out, slowly building up the depth to the bottom line tattoo on his finger. You’re still wet from previous affair, so the combo of that and saliva has him gliding in enough to push another in soon.
“So much complaining before but look at ya… sucking in my fingers in like your body can't get enough…” he says unabashedly.
You’re almost scared from how easily this type of talk comes to him. But when he speeds up his actions, it’s not like you can give a damn about anything other than the friction and stretch turning your insides even warmer so nicely, sting or not.
“Ugh… it feels so weird…”
“You’ll get used to it.”
You jerk your hips along his movements, and soon, he starts hitting your clit with the ball of his hand.
His other hand cups your chin and turns your head to the side for a kiss. Any distraction from his balls almost turning blue from no attention just yet proves useful as he still pulses against your ass. The kiss is clumsy both from his and your fault, accompanied by hums and greed exchanged.
Enjin pulls out his fingers somewhere half into your another orgasm, concerned you might get too sensitive before he can even make you cream on his cock; he doubts a third finger would fit in anyway. Though your sultry whine almost has him giving in.
“Alright. Time for a real fun.”
Those words are a trigger for your heart to start pounding. You’re also made to ache terribly as he licks his fingers clean, staring you dead in the eye.
He pushes you onto your back again, but before he could get on top of you, he decides to make an offer first.
There's a good reason for why he kept his pants on the entire time — otherwise, you’d have been stressing out about his size, trying to flee before you could even be split apart.
“Wanna take a good look at it first?”
You bit your lip and nod, inviting him to lie down next to you. You already have a vague idea of what it’s like, however…
You’re screwed is what you realize when he pulls his sweatpants and boxers down and his cock springs free against his abdomen, beige tip turned almost red and leaking. Big is a connotation for scary, especially when it’s meant to be weaponized for the first time, and you think you made a worst gamble choosing Enjin out of all people.
And yet… you really want to challenge yourself to take it. Why not go all out if you’re finally getting this stuff done? Make this really remarkable.
“I wanna touch you too,” you demand.
“Yeah?” his eyes light up. It’s rather hot you’re eager to please him too; not that it’s not a daily wish for him anyway.
“Yes,” you admit, squeezing your thighs at the thought. It might be your first time, but after how long you were deprived of good fuck, you don’t want anything taken for granted. Not to mention, you’re obsessed with the idea of controlling Enjin’s reactions, knowing at least a quarter of your effect on him. “Just tell me what to do,” you give him a look under your lashes, your hand coming across his happy trail.
He sighs with a tremor, laughing self deprecatingly at how foolish you’re getting him. He quickly removes his clothes, throwing them on the floor. “Spit on it first. Add some glide.”
You do as he said, letting a globe of saliva fall on top of his head. Enjin shivers as it hits his weakest spot. Then even more as your fingers tentatively envelop him, before they start to spread your spit across his length.
He’s hot and heavy in your hand, and you carefully watch for his reaction, while getting used to handling a man.
He moans quietly, looking at you with tiny desperation, and this micropower you carry over him has you even hornier.
You’re stroking him while looking him in the eye, a bit faster than before, your thumb playing with his sensitive tip that only makes him more squirmy. There’s his palm eventually having to hold onto your waist.
It’s almost funny to you, that even clumsy work like yours can rattle him this much; although, it motivates you to do even better, as if you have discovered your favorite new hobby.
Though, when you tug on his skin a little too hard, his hand falls over yours. “Easy there. It’s not going anywhere…” he chuckles.
“Sorry…” you wet your lips, not that sorry.
His hand doesn’t let go of yours. Enjin moves it so you know the right pace — way too close to one he picks when thinking about you — his own flexing from the pleasure you’re giving him.
He’s also way too close in general, thanks to you. Which is crazy, considering he’s usually more durable — as if he’s that addicted to you.
“E-enough. Don’t forget what you’re here for.” He doesn’t want to bust a nut before he's even inside of you.
Eventually, he pulls you away, slowly sitting up. He’s looking for something on his bedside table, while you give yourself prep talk inside.
“Will it hurt?” you ask the most dreaded question.
“Despite what they might be telling ya, it’s not supposed to hurt if done right. Uncomfortable at most. And I plan to do a good job with you…” he throws over his shoulder.
Something about the way he says his last words has you feeling restless. Like he’s implying you really are in for a lot.
You finally get to see what he’s been looking for.
“Are these necessary?” you’re somehow feeling annoyed.
“Huh? You’ll get knocked up,” he points out brusquely, as if he can't believe you’d not know at least that much.
“Enjin, I’m not stupid,” you deadpan. “I’m on a pill. Got ready ahead… just in case.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I… unless you care, I wanna feel it all clearly… no barriers,” you explain with your cheeks turning hot.
Enjin gulps, his Adam’s apple moving, and wipes his face. He's got to he too lucky. You, him, pussy raw as his kryptonite… it’s too good to be true, and he’s already been granted a lot.
“So?” you bring up again.
The box he prepared is thrown back to its place. He’s climbing up the space above you with more vigor, not going to waste such offer. “Do you ask a starving man if he needs to eat too?” he grins.
A pillow is shoved under your hips, elevating them higher for his access. Another goes behind his headboard.
It’s still unbelievable you’re letting him do this to you.
Enjin wordlessly pats his shoulder, and you drape your legs over them.
He takes a one more good look at you, witnessing your needy state, eyes directed at him for help and no one else, as it always should have been. Your body he’d die for. Your vulnerability.
“Dammit…” he mutters under his nose, wondering if he will survive you.
“I need you,” slips out from your lips without a shame, and he questions his sanity when something twists in his stomach from this line.
“Yes, I know. I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t fuck you with his cock immediately. With his hands on your waist, he’s gliding it across your slit instead, holding the tip against your clit for a bit longer, relieved to finally make a more direct contact… If anything, you somehow managed to got him nervous as well, and he doesn’t want to push it in just yet, breathing deeply only from the brushes against you.
You crane your head back on the pillow, taking in the foreign sensation with goosebumps rising on your skin, still so sensitive from the previous joys.
“Just put it in already…” you say impatiently, squirming under him. He didn’t even take you yet but you’re already feeling Enjin-deficient.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself like that—”
“I’m not that weak,” you insist, curling your tone with a whine that does not lie.
And he could wait, and maybe he should… except, none of you can really do that, or you two might end up going on a rampage.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you…” he acquiesces. It’s funny how often he tries to deny you, only to fail at that by permitting leeway.
He rubs himself twice before he’s pushing in, just a head in at first, followed by his grunt.
Your breath stutters; your hole wants to push him out, unused to any bigger deal inside, but at the same time, he’s rubbing your nerves that were screaming to be pushed against nicely. There is some discomfort, naturally, but you don’t move to reject him away.
“Ah… Enjin…” you wince. You grab to hold onto his forearms before subconsciously tracing his tattoos with your fingers for comfort.
The tense look on your face threatens to make him nut on his spot — you barely able to take his thick size shouldn't excite him, but the fact it’s his you’re struggling with, adjusting to being filled, that fucks up with his brain.
There’s some concern too. “Gentle. Steady. No need to rush,” he comforts quietly. He kisses at your calf, going up to your ankle, teasing the skin to relax you.
You nod, biting your lip as some sweat breaks on your forehead. You think that the stretch cannot be only about your walls unadjusted to penetration, but stemming from Enjin simply being huge.
He thrusts in shallowly, still staying just head inside and grinding to get you more wet and used to him staying inside. Every brush against your entrance prods your muscles to part for him.
He rolls your clit with his index finger, another pleasure aiding you in relaxing, that he can fit it another inch soon.
You gasp, digging your nails into his skin.
“Easy, easy… Nice and slow…” he groans out, feeling tortured by the pressure on his cock. “You’re doing well.”
He commands himself for his restrain — with how hot and tight you are, it’s a challenge to not just push in at once. He’s not that mean, thankfully, rubbing himself inside of you instead.
“N-not fair,” you mumble.
“What again?” he wouldn’t know rationally anything in this state.
“You don’t deserve that size,” you say randomly, glaring at him through the blur of your tears.
He laughs, rather softly. “A way to insult a man. Yet here I am, splitting you.”
Convo is good, distracting you as he pushes in another inch in; in tune with your reactions. And he’s even not halfway through.
What happens next is therefore sudden.
He bottoms out — or rather — you decide to push yourself onto him with the slide of your body down, too keyed up and wanting this stressful moment gone, on a shortcut to the best part.
You both gasp loudly, he from the surprise, and you from the angry sting the stretch brings. Nonetheless, you’re proud of yourself, even as your chest rises quickly from the intense pressure.
“You're ridiculous, I’m trying to be gentle and you—” And you’re smiling at him, cheeky from your “achievement”, regardless of your tears. “You’re insane,” he says with exaggerated disbelief.
With your clear demand to not beat around the bush, he starts moving in your pussy, almost fully in, mesmerized by your eagerness to be used by him enough to take him in one fell swoop.
“Good fucking girl. Taking me so nicely. You would have thought this isn’t her first time—”
He’s moving a bit faster, even if your squeezing barely loosens.
“Or that she’s made for me.”
And faster.
“Might make her run back to me...” he rambles heatedly.
That sounds humiliating — to be wrapped around Enjin’s finger — but it’s not as if he’s any less addicted to you.
He might as well be deemed as barely holding up above you, his hands suffocating your hips, emulating the grip of your virgin pussy on him. Big teary eyes looking up at him will stay in his head for a while. You moan so nicely for him, as if you really were his girl.
And it’s becoming increasingly impossible for you to deny how much you want him on your own. Your body is thankfully adjusting fast enough, whether it’s your stamina from fighting trash beasts or eagerness, but you never stop feeling full and stretched.
“Fuck, don't stop…” you plead, digging your nails into his back when you draw him closer. “I can take it.”
Enjin growls at your words; it’s undeniable he is one hell of a lucky man, and you being this wanton for him barely allows him to maintain any self-restraint.
So much for being gentle with you because it’s your first time.
“Yeah? Want me to make a mess of you? Want me to make you come so hard you won’t be walking after?”
You nod your head fervently. “Y-yes. Need it so badly!” you babble, scratching at him.
You now regret you didn't have him like this earlier. Enjin is many things, but he's also attentive and observant enough to give you the best of the first times; if not also ensure you want no one else after as a side effect.
His dick twitches at your words. Enjin grabs you by the underside of your knees and pushes your legs to your chest before sinking deeper into you, right as he sets on a faster pace, each of the thrusts coming with a harder pressure and depth than before. His tall body pushes and crushes you into the mattress with expertise, handling your with ease the same way he handles his umbrella.
He kisses you madly, accepting your whines like they’re medicine. Your hand brushes his undercut, making him hum. His mouth sucks on the tip of your tongue before biting it gently and kissing you deeper.
Withdrawing, he bends you further as to stay close to your messy face.
“O-oh, you are such a lucky woman…” he laughs breathlessly, squeezing your poor legs. “Getting so spoiled on your first, it’s got to be a relief you picked me for this, huh?”
You mewl. He talks awful much, you can feel the heat in your belly mix with shame and excitement. You don't want to make him too cocky neither, but you’d be lying saying he's not giving you the best time of your life at the moment. Fills you to your limits.
“Say it. Not Gris, not any guy in some town, but Enjin,” he demands roughly.
“Can’t, won’t—” you protest, your guys churning.
“Come on. Don’t be so mean to me, darling,” he drawls. “I’m working reeeaaalll hard for you.”
“E-Enjin—” you’re actually parroting him out of desperation, your horny brain susceptible to his wishes; except, it’s so hard to to form a coherent sentence on your own at this stage of being ruined.
He grins, rewarding you with a deeper thrust. “Just like that. Full sentence: Enjin’s the best first guy to have,” he coos.
“Enjin’s the best…” you moan, clenching around him when he hits that spongy spot inside you and keeps going at it, “first guy to have!”
He’s never forgetting these words.
“Good girl.”
And it also seems that his girl — his, as he cannot comprehend the idea of letting you go after this — needs a little more than tenderness, have been going on without proper lay for so long.
Your face is in the pillows next, while he’s pulling your hips for you to stay on your knees, your ass in the air to never neglect his eyes.
The position makes you feel him even better as he slides in again, grabbing your hips, as you fist the sheets of his bed. You can feel his vein scraping your walls perfectly.
“Oh, please…” you cry out into the plush.
“I didn't even ask you to beg and look at you doing that on your own…” he marvels greedily. He wastes no time, resuming pounding into you with his balls hitting you, and your hole thanks him with more juices.
“So good…” you moan out, your eyes rolling back when he keeps hitting your spot back and forth. Muting any bed sounds was redundant when the skin, wetness and your own screams make enough noise for any theoretical passerby. Nonetheless, the frames of his furniture are jeopardized and screech when they’re getting loosened with every thrust.
His hands take on massaging your ass, spreading it to see how well you’re taking his size, appreciating your curves, with many curses accentuating his satisfaction.
“Throw yourself back on me. I wanna see how badly you need it…”
You whine when he stills his hips in place, but you start doing as you’re told, waving your body to start using his cock to the hilt.
“I can’t…” you warble, yet you can’t stop either. You’re taking slower but deeper than he did, your toes curling against the bed sheets when you point his tip to curve into you. He only helps you by grinding, spilling occasional praise too. You can tell you’re getting closer, your abdomen tightening. “I’m so full…”
All that precaution to be gentle, only for you to be so slutty in a stark contrast. And he does like women who are a little naughty.
Enjin throws his head back a little, getting off to the slow friction forcing him feel to every thrust, your little show, even if he gets a bit impatient to not rut into you again.
“You could kill a man this way, you know…” he groans, slapping your flesh once to see it jiggle.
You’re not any better, no matter how frenzy your shoves are, or the sting of his hand that amplifies your pleasure. Showing your enthusiasm, you still think your work is not as good — not as fast and impactful enough as when he was doing it. “Not enough…” you mumble. “Please, I wanna cum!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” You’re back at his meat with a hand on your waist shoving you down to his balls.
He’s worse than before, now focused only on making you finish, he not so far behind.
You almost fall down when he begins rubbing your clit, your hole tightening and tightening— until the coil snaps and you come, with the pulsing that begins right after, that his hips stutter. It’s so intense you can’t tell you get loud or nothing is vocalized from how speechless he rendered you. Blinding hot, searing pool, covering any nearly painful soreness that’s been growing.
You’ve had some orgasms before, pleasuring yourself; but it’s different this time, you coming on something real.
And you discover that you absolutely love to cum. Your first on his dick.
The tight space your pussy creates almost pushes Enjin to the edge, that he turns up on his motions, forcing you to ride out your orgasm as you lie under him all useless and fucked dumb. Your head is pushed down by his solid palm.
“Take it… take it deep in…!” he yelps through the constraint of his throat. “You’re gonna remember this…”
Until he finally spurts inside you, filling and hitting you with warm sticky, moreso ecstatic from not having to pull out. His hand threatens to crush your bones, and he bites his tongue as it all ends with a rough call of your name. He collapses on top of you, sweaty and hyperventilating, still sheathed deep in you so nothing spills.
“Geez… you…” he heaves, “You really are insane…”
“You okay?” he eventually asks, lifting his body so he’d stop crushing you, checking for any regrets.
“Yes…. But… more…” you whine into the pillow. He has to make sure he heard you right; you turn your head to the side when he brushes your hair off your face, your expression still delirious.
“Ugh… I have created a devil…” he says dryly, then laughs.
Onto your fours you go. Your hair is grabbed by him to give you even more of pleasure by inducing aches before he shoves you onto his sloppy dick again. The squelch is worse than it was before; sheets stick to your damp body as well.
Your legs, lingering as a jittering mass, have their knees almost give up. Yet Enjin doesn’t let you get away from it, even as you get overwhelmed every few, using your hair like an impromptu leash and keeping your back arched for him. His other hand fondles your moving breast from below, reminding himself of how much he loves them.
The headboard of his bed that walks around is really lucky to have that pillow, otherwise the wall behind would be almost as ruined as you are.
He curses when you are adamant on tightening near your another orgasm. “You’re a trouble… fucking insatiable doll…”
He feeds you with his decent amount of cum again soon enough. Tucks it in right after, making you gush when you peak again.
You can feel it everywhere over your body you’re at the brink of exhaustion, but before you’d let his dick and your sore pussy rest, there’s one more thing you need to consider yourself fulfilled.
Riding him, watching Enjin downplayed to an upmost mess on his own.
“Whoa!” he makes a sound of surprise, finding himself being pushed down onto his bed when trying to get up.
You straddle him, on your way to get what you want as if all these previous orgasms put you in a succubus alike trance — with an objective to suck Enjin dry.
“You’re still not done?” he asks with incredulity. Although, you putting your body on display hardly makes your choice rejectable. Judging by your legs playing their own plea at his sides, catching a break would be smart, however…
“Just once more, please…” you plead with big eyes — deliberate move — and he’s a terrible sucker for that. You’re already grabbing his cock popping hard again, raising yourself to be above it.
Enjin gulps. Then he snorts, astonished by the fact this is what you’ve been hiding in yourself all this time. “Are you sure you’re even a newbie? Maybe this is how you lure men in…”
He can only get himself comfortable, watching you stretch yourself with obsession. Eager to sit on it is a huge compliment. On his.
“No, this is how I lure men in—” you snap your hips down, taking him all in that way. A tiny pain shoots through you when you knock your own cervix, but you soothe that by grabbing his stomach to start chasing another ecstasy, thrusts made to be desperate.
His legs tremble and he gasps. They were already screwed, wrung out by all the magic of your hole, but now he’s entirely about to lose any weight in them.
“You little…!” he holds onto you from surprise, warbling sound escaping his throat.
You have to be natural. You're having too much fun for the first time, crazy and over the moon, making a toy of his cock and moving fast like there’s no tomorrow. If the world was ending, you’d probably want to fuck him, then cry about it not being enough because he’s too tired to go forward.
“I’m sorry, I’m just…” your delirious voice jumps as you do. “So relieved to know what it’s like…”
He can't really deny you, even if he’s worried his cock might fall off soon. You're just there, riding him like there’s no tomorrow, whipping previous cum into cream with the thrusts. And yet his body decides there’s still more he should give you, as every slap of skin of skin brings him closer to another load to gift your wet walls with.
Maybe he should become your fuck friend. It's good for a spirit. It’s good for team merits. He empties your balls in you, you get your itches scratched, you two make wonderful fighting duo in result.
Except, then he’d hate the idea of you not being attached, you making his heart terribly unhealthy without ever coming close enough.
Maybe he should become your—
“Seriously, girl, where did all this energy come from…” he whines, clenching his jaw from how impossibly sensitive you’re getting his cock. Still, seeing your own legs shake and fumble your pleasure, he helps you, pulling you up and down with strong hands. You really make a great team — cause you grind onto his blond pubes when he takes you down, pleasing your swollen clit.
He’d think you were training for that stuff with how easily you swallow him.
“Don’t care, I wanna cum—” you cry, fussy on top of him, raking his stomach that his breath hitches from the sting you bring. “I’m so close—”
Enjin obliges, manipulating with your clit sticky with your and his liquids, that annoyingly managed to drip out of you.
He has to fix that.
“That’s right. Come on me again,” he demands, needing to see you unravel for the last time this night, his dark gaze not straying away from any jiggle or facial contortion.
Your feet dig into his mattress as you finish, crying out his name. You collapse on top of him, your breath exhorted to treacherous levels, and you are a sweaty and lightheaded mess.
Still not done, he thrusts clumsily into you from below, letting you cling to him in that oddly intimate position.
A few more chases later, he empties himself into your hole, adding to the blend of fluids staining yours and his thighs in between; some has dried a long time ago. His voice is stuck in his throat, scraped, he can only choke on his moan.
You both take few seconds to catch up with any sense in the cottons of your brains fucked out. For a blink, he thinks you weigh him nicely, as he rubs your back and soothes your whimpers mindlessly.
It’s by miracle that he succeeds in unpeeling your shaky form from him before setting the breathless you next to him comfortably, even if at the expense of some awakening tenderness in his hips. “Careful there…” he mutters gently, straightening your poor limbs.
Your mess spills all over under you as you shiver from the sensitivity, and he watches his dark sheets become clearly stained, mesmerized from how much you took from him. He clean the excess with
The realization of what you did together slowly starts settling in, seeping in quietness from you and him if not to include the labored breathing; albeit, among the aches and hormones, giving fucks brings more thrill than regret.
Enjin’s still dutiful, that despite his exhaustion, he remembers to look clearly at you and make sure you’re not broken. You’re as tired as he is, if not more — nothing above the norm. As he cleans you with the towel he had prepared earlier and drops it to the floor before beginning to massage your tense legs, you stare back at him with a bleary smile.
Something about that tiny curve makes his stomach clench with something plummeting in it. This is why it’s dangerous to stay around after sex… however, he doesn’t have it in himself to make you leave. Besides, that would be a really foul behavior towards someone who was made to lose her v card.
He’s ready to ask if you’re alright to be on the safe side, but you’re already getting back to yourself, making a first complaint:
“You’re just so adamant on yapping your mouth. Your mouth doesn’t shut even as you’re guts deep in me.”
He raises a brow before snickering, even if you somehow manage to make him embarrassed. He stretches his arm to the side of the bed before offering you water.
“All that moonshine? I was saying whatever,” he says nonchalantly.
You desperately chug on the liquid, fed by him. He drinks after you.
“Oddly specific moonshine,” you rebuke bluntly after.
“Yeah. Performance nervousness.” He shakes his head as if you’re dramatic, pretending it’s not a weird feeling to have you naked and spent in his bed. All because of some jealousy and messed up sense of responsibility…
Among other feelings he still finds difficult to voice out openly.
“Anyway. Let’s go take a shower.” He pats your ass, for once not reaching for a cigarette immediately after a fuck.
“Us?” you question through your yawn.
He gives you unimpressed look — didn’t he just take your virginity? “Duh. We've got to save water. Unless you want to take an icy shower after me?”
“You’re saying you’d go first? Ladies first, don’t you know!” you slap his shoulder in offense — barely, not having it in you to actually hurt him.
Enjin scoffs with amusement. “No less. But I doubt you’d be able to walk on your own, so I might as well be done before you even get your ass up.”
He’s got a point.
But as soon as he tries to stand up and carry you to bathroom, enacting some Prince Charming, he is forced to have a painful realization his legs refuse to cooperate, and falls back onto the bed.
You laugh shamelessly at him, watching him turn into a plank. “Wow. That was embarrassing.”
He scowls, pinching your hip. As you squeak in surprise, he draws you close, then pulls covers over you. It’s nice, if he ignores the sticky quality of your bodies.
“Okay. Maybe a nap first…” he mutters tiredly, resting his head on your shoulder — unapologetically claiming it as his pillow.
“… Enjin?” you ask hesitantly.
You’re not immune to the effects this type of closeness brings either. Except, you know how you may feel about him — it’s still a food for thought about why he’s doing that himself, with Enjin not often talking about himself.
Sure, it might as well be him only giving you aftercare after squeezing all the life force out of your body, but if you were consider everything else that happened between you in the last couple of months, or even just that night at the club…
One of his eye open. He speaks quietly, cozy and relaxed; he’s usually calm and nostalgic after sex, now he’s even peaceful.
“You’re just warm,” he brushes off your subtle implication for now. Sappy and clingy is not his style, nor his type, yet here he is, taking care of you like of his vital instrument; he probably fell a victim to this gooey and greasy heart feeling first too, knowing his luck with you. “Go to sleep. Then we’ll talk.” He pushes you closer to his chest.
You suppose it’s alright, for at least tonight.
“Talk about what?” you ask with curiosity, your own eyelids hanging lower and lower as pleasant drowsiness overtakes you.
That’s a good question. The problem is, Enjin is not exactly sure himself yet. He could talk about…
The fact that you’ve got him messed up? That there’s a real crisis of his person, to the point you make him reevaluate himself, stuck as a focal point in his mind? That he wants to both fuck you so hard you think about him and him and him only, but also desires to make you happy and content like this on a daily basis? Or is it about the whole truth that anything nowadays is somehow connected to you, him wondering if you’d like or hate those things? Or is it that he’d like to know what makes you tick? And, can you please keep getting along with the kids he cares about?
All those things said aloud, or even a modicum of them since he’s still afraid, might turn your relationship beyond salvaging. Yet life is all about taking risks — he might die any day anyway. He’s come so far with you tonight, too; he’d be a fool not to attempt an effort to keep you close afterward.
“… You’ll see,” he mutters comfortably before finally falling asleep.
Nevertheless, it’s a promise.
AFTERNOTE: I’d like to apologize if there were any mistakes. I have trouble maintaining my attention on longer fics, but on the other hand I can’t make them shorter haha — this is my third Enjin oneshot and somehow all of them placed chronologically get increasingly longer. In any case, I hope you enjoyed reading my story!
Hoshina finds himself in a precarious situation when his repeated use of the No. 10 suit sends his body into a rut, one that's only further exacerbated when you let yourself into his office without warning.
wc: 3.2k
c: 18+ only, friends to lovers, rut dynamics, breeding kink, oral sex (f & m!receiving), cum eating, squirting, unprotected p in v, creampies, too many creampies to count, copious amounts of cum, a ridiculous amount of orgasms, pussy drunk!hoshina, required horny suspension of disbelief, author takes great liberties with human biology
a/n: this one goes out to the two requests i received for hoshina + office, in addition to an older request for him in a rut!
SPICY SLEEPOVER — ROUND V
There are three things Soshiro Hoshina promised himself when he was sworn into his position as Vice-Captain of the Third Division—
To give his life to the JAKDF.
To do everything within his power and abilities to ensure the safety and preparedness of each and every officer under his watch.
—and to never let himself get involved with a fellow officer.
…after all, sentimentality is a dangerous weapon to hang oneself with.
The third is the reason he’s currently staring at you with wide, panicked eyes as you step past the threshold of his locked office door, your brows furrowed as you point what appears to be a hairpin in his direction.
“You’ve been holed up in here for days, Soshiro,” you frown, your gaze tracking across the uncharacteristically messy state the room is currently in. Paperwork is left askew across the surface of his desk, a haphazard pile of blankets and pillows stacked on the couch, and an array of takeout food and drink containers is stacked precariously atop the filing cabinet.
Soshiro grips the edge of his desk, teeth grinding as he fights to ignore the surge of possessive, blinding heat that unfurls inside of him at the sound of his given name on your lips.
(It was an exception he was too weak to deny you, not when you’ve become the closest friend he’s ever had in the years since you joined the Defense Force.)
You begin to walk toward him, and his nostrils flare, chest heaving as the familiar, soft scents of your perfume and shampoo invade his senses, amplified like never before.
“S-stop,” he gasps, hunching forward, palms flat against the desk as he inhales sharply.
Your voice has an edge of panic to it as you stride closer. “Soshiro?”
He backs up, putting several more feet of space between the two of you, though the added proximity does little to quell the blazing fire your presence has ignited in his veins.
“I…there’s….,” his throat burns as he tries to talk, “…a side effect from Number 10.”
A rut, to be precise.
Biologically, it makes zero sense. There are no reported cases on file across the JAKDF of similar side effects as a result of kaiju weaponization. And Soshiro’s not even wearing the goddamn suit, he hasn’t been since he collapsed in the middle of the training grounds earlier in the week without warning.
But the medical team at the Third Division has since hypothesized that it’s a particular irregularity resulting from the repeated usage of the No. 10 suit which has simply tricked his body into believing it’s going into an animalistic rut, of sorts.
His cock has been achingly hard nearly round the clock all week, a thick and throbbing presence between his legs no matter how many times he brings himself to completion.
Mortifyingly, after the higher ups insisted on contacting Captain Gen Narumi of the First Division to see if he had any insight, the other man had nearly laughed himself out of his seat as he suggested Soshiro try “fucking it out of his system.”
And this is where your presence has now become a problem.
Deny it as he might, there’s a traitorous golden thread of sentimentality for you that runs deep in Soshiro’s veins, one that has nearly cost the team a mission on several occasions at times when he’s found himself too focused on your individual wellbeing on the battlefield.
He sees the way you look at him.
He feels the way his stupid, reckless heart throbs against his ribcage in your presence.
He knows what this could be—what the two of you could have. If only he was weak enough to bend to the will of his own desires.
But under the influence of the rut currently sinking its ruthless fangs into his better judgment, he’s a weak man.
He’s a weak, hungry, desperate man who wants to claim you as his.
Who wants to breed you, to fill you with his seed, to pump every last drop of cum he has left to give into the tight, slippery warmth of your cunt.
This is why he’s been avoiding you specifically, why he’s teetering on the frantic edge of panic as he feels his body’s visceral, uncontrollable reaction to your presence.
You sigh, expression softening. “I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
He stares at you in confusion and chokes out, “What?”
“Well…Captain Narumi called me to ask how you were doing, which threw me off. He didn’t go into much detail, but I…I got the gist of it.”
“That asshole…” Soshiro groans.
“I think he was trying to be nice, if you can believe that. But I just…I know you like thinking you have to shoulder every burden yourself, and you hate asking for help. And you’ve been ignoring all of my texts. So I’m here now to offer you whatever help you may need.”
Soshiro maneuvers himself behind the side of his desk, if only to hide the stiff erection currently tented at the front of his pants. “This…I don’t…this ain’t somethin’ you can help me with.”
Putting your hands on your hips, you huff. “You look like you’re barely keeping it together. And I…” you scratch the back of your head, looking a bit sheepish, “I may have done some research. On the internet.”
“Research?!”
“I mean, I know the mental gymnastics of applying the concept from animals to kaiju to humans isn’t exactly laying the groundwork for the next peer-reviewed scientific study…”
“Do ya even know what you’re saying?”
You sidestep around the barrier of the desk, and Soshiro backs up again, his shoulder blades hitting the wall, the obvious outline of his cock in his pants the least of his concerns now.
“I’m saying that your body probably isn’t going to revert back to normal until you satisfy the conditions of your rut.”
A subtle shiver runs through him. “I’ve tried,” he grumbles, looking off to the side.
“Oh?” you ask, an odd look crossing your face, one that he can’t quite read—but it makes something inside of him clench all the same.
“By myself, I mean,” he continues. “Many times, actually. S’not changing anything.”
“Because your body wants you to breed someone. Well, probably in the hypothetical sense, like just finishing inside of them…,” you reply, matter-of-factly. Like his cock isn’t threatening to thrash its way past his zipper at the sound of those words on your lips.
He inhales slowly, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before finding your gaze once more. “‘m not goin’ out and findin’ some random—“
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Excuse me?” Soshiro’s not sure he remembers how to breathe.
“Use me, breed me. Whatever it’s going to take to get you out of this room and back into commission.”
He’s going to lose his fucking mind.
“I can’t—“
“I trust you, Soshiro. I trust you more than anyone else. I don’t think you understand how much you mean to me. And I know you refuse to let yourself care about anyone enough to become a liability…but I’m here if you want me. If you’ll have me.”
Everything inside of Soshiro feels like it’s reaching a breaking point, a fever pitch. He takes one step toward you, and then another.
—and it’s almost excruciating, the distance that remains, every cell and fiber in his body helplessly, desperately drawn toward your gravitational pull.
“…also I…the contraceptive part is covered. So I won’t actually get pregnant. You can come inside of me as many times as you need to…”
Another step.
“…or as many times as you want to…”
He’s standing directly in front of you, his muscles tensing painfully as he begins to feel the warmth of your body heat.
“I locked myself in here to stay away from you,” he rasps.
Your face falls a fraction. “Am I that terrible of an option?”
“No.” He sidesteps, and you turn to face him, your backside leaning against his desk. “You were the only option I want.”
You blink, clearly a bit taken aback by the admission. “Then why didn’t you tell me? I feel like I’m not exactly subtle about my feelings…”
“Cause I don’t know if this is goin’ to stop if we do this. I don’t know what kinda side effects there might be afterward.”
“Are you trying to scare me off with the threat of a potential sex sabbatical if your boner doesn’t go down?”
He bites the inside of his lower lip. “I’m tryin’ to warn ya that I don’t know if we can go back to normal after this…it’s more than just sexual…there’s this possessive feeling eatin’ me alive whenever I so much as think about ya.”
You lean more of your weight back into the desk, letting one of your feet slide forward to nudge against Soshiro’s.
“You know just about everyone in the entire Defense Force already thinks we’re dating, right? Captain Narumi started crying laughing when I got into an argument with him over it.”
Soshiro’s self control is dangling by the edge of a frayed, treacherous rope.
“You really wanna do this?”
“I was already yours, Soshiro. Even if you weren’t ready to acknowledge it.”
A ragged exhale leaves him at that, every last piece of his desire falling at his feet and bursting into flames. And when you meet him halfway as his lips come crashing into yours, Soshiro knows there’s no turning back.
Distantly, Soshiro knows that if he were in the right state of mind, this would unfold in a far different manner. He’d settle down into his office chair, tugging you into his lap to kiss you soft and slow and languid.
He’d take his time, familiarizing himself with each dip and curve of your body. Every corner, every plane. Every little sound and reaction. He’d use his lips and his fingers first, until you’re pliant and sated under his touch.
He’d kiss the corner of your mouth and worship the very sight of you, tell you just how fucking terribly in love he is with you.
But you know him better than anyone else, and he you.
So when he gets out an, “I’m sorry,” between frantic, sloppy kisses as his hands fumble for the button of your pants—
When you gasp at the feeling of his fingers grazing your slit and bite down on his lower lip and moan into his open mouth, “Next time.”—
He knows you understand all that he wants to give you to, that this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. That you trust him and want him enough to let him fuck you through his rut like an animal moments after you’ve shared your first kiss.
Despite the unbearable ache of his cock, which only grows worse when you begin to palm him through his pants, Soshiro still manages one thing—one moment of pleasure that he’s fucking dreamed of giving you over and over again.
He has little regret for the way he swipes all of the paperwork off of his desk in one go before he sets you down on top of it, memos and unanswered letters the furthest thing from his mind when he finally has the taste of your cunt on his tongue. With your legs spread wide, he eats you out with reckless abandon, the heel of one hand shoved against his dick as he plunges two fingers of the other in and out of your dripping wet hole. The keening, needy sounds you make only fuel him further, your back arching up off of his desk as he thrusts his tongue into your tight channel, greedily lapping up every last drop of the arousal that’s slipping out of you.
“Oh my god, Soshiro,” you cry out, fingers scrambling for purchase and eventually coming to tangle in the dark violet locks of his hair.
When you come on his tongue, moaning and shaking as you roughly tug in his hair, it’s the most wonderful fucking sound Soshiro’s ever heard in his life. He groans when a searing wave of pleasure bursts inside of him, an unexpected orgasm filling his boxers with hot ropes of cum.
You hardly have time to recover before he’s carrying you over to the couch, setting you down in the messy nest of blankets and pillows strewn about on the wide cushions. But before he can do anything else, you’ve pushed him into a sitting position and shuffled around to kneel between his legs.
“Ya don’t have to…”
“Please.”
He can hardly deny you, especially not when he hears the satisfied sound that tips out past your lips when you slide down his pants and boxers to find the sticky mess of cum already coating his dick and balls.
His dick that’s already hard again.
“Did you come while you were—“
“Yeah,” he rasps, dragging a hand through his mussed hair.
You bite your lower lip. “Soshiro, that’s so hot.”
He doesn’t have a chance to come up with an eloquent response, because his entire body seizes up with pleasure as you lean forward and take his cum-covered cock into your mouth. Soshiro wonders how he’s ever going to recover from this—the sight of your kiss swollen lips smeared with filthy, sticky cum and saliva. As you lap it from his balls. As you suck every last drop off of him until he’s coming again right down your throat.
Soshiro thinks he’s going to climb on top of you when his cock stiffens once more, to stare down at you and press messy, hungry kisses to your lips as he thrusts inside of you.
But you’re adamant that you think he needs something else the first time, something more akin to the primal needs his body is succumbing to.
Soshiro knows you were right when he lines up his flushed, weeping cock with your slick, quivering entrance from behind while you lean forward on your hands and knees, the need in his body now burning hotter than ever before.
It takes exactly three thrusts inside the dizzingly tight, soaked warmth of your cunt for Soshiro to reach his next climax without warning, cum exploding from his cock as his hips violently stutter while he fucks his seed inside of you. It feels so good, he’s worried he might pass out, but his hips won’t stop rocking into the plush curves of your ass.
You whimper as you feel him fill you deeply, fingers digging into the blankets and couch cushions beneath you as your body rocks backward into him.
“More, Soshiro,” you beg. “I know you’re not done. I need more, too.”
Soshiro nearly growls as something desperate and feral unfurls like the crack of a whip inside of him, folding his body over yours and sinking his teeth into the soft juncture between your shoulder and your neck as his cock hardens again inside of the grip of your tight channel. You moan as he bites down, whining and gasping as you reach back to tangle your fingers in his hair.
Soshiro’s balls ache as the wet sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, his throat dry and his muscles straining with the desire to pump you full of more cum.
“Harder, Soshiro,” you gasp, rocking backward to fuck yourself on his shaft.
He’s helpless to do anything but oblige as his hips begin to snap into yours at a brutal pace, his fervor only unraveling further when you shout as you squirt all over his hand right after he starts playing with your clit, your cunt rapidly spasming and contracting around his cock.
“Breed me, please,” you whine, gasping for air, your chest heaving.
He slams inside of you to the hilt as he comes hard, brokenly groaning in pleasure as the euphoric grip of your pussy milks the cum from his cock.
“Don’t stop,” you plead when he pulls out, feeling the way his cock is hard once more as it rests against your ass.
“S’ gonna make a mess,” he heaves, entranced by the load of cum dripping out of your cunt and sliding down the backs of your thighs.
You shiver when he runs two fingers through it, the sound dissolving into a moan when he gives in to the unexplainable urge to lean forward and lap some of his sloppy mess directly from your folds.
“Good,” you choke out.
It’s so fucking filthy—the amount of cum that slides out of you as he tries in vain to fuck it all back inside. The way you come again for him a third time from the feeling of the hot, sticky mess squelching inside of you as he murmurs against your ear, “Gonna fuck a baby into you. That what ya want?”
Soshiro’s so pussy drunk he can hardly think straight when he finally gets you where he really wants you—moaning into his mouth and dragging your hands through his hair as you straddle his lap on the couch. You alternate between riding his cock and letting him ease your pliant body up and down his length as he grips your hips, blazing a hot, open-mouthed trail of kisses along the curve of your jaw as he groans about how good you feel.
The state of the leather couch is a lost cause as you bounce up and down on his shaft, cum slipping from your cunt and coating the base of his cock in a creamy ring of fluid. Drenching his balls and his thighs as he fucks up into you harder, his seed sloshing around in your fucked out hole.
When he comes again, his head drops against the back of the couch as he tries to catch his breath, groaning as he watches a fresh wave of cum leak out of you with hooded eyes when you lift yourself off of his cock.
His still hard cock.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs as it twitches with interest when you reach down and swipe your finger through the cum, licking it off slowly as you hold his gaze.
“One more,” you whisper, leaning forward to slot your lips with his.
You wrap your hands around Soshiro’s cum-covered cock, moaning softly as you rub your clit up against the firm base while you begin to stroke his length. It’s so intimate and sensual, the way your body presses up against his, the roll of his hips as he slowly twitches upward and fucks your fist before climaxing one last time.
–
Soshiro rouses from a deep, heavy sleep hours later, your head on his chest, your bodies tangled together in a pile of blankets on the couch. And he’s relieved to realize that he finally feels back to normal again. Albeit, every muscle in his body aches, and he doesn’t even want to begin to think about the mess the two of you left behind before passing out, but it’s a relief all the same.
When you snuggle up closer on his chest, he pulls you close and presses a kiss to the top of your head, whispering, “Mine,” into your hair.
“Is that still your dick talking?” you ask, tired and amused.
“Nah, just me,” he murmurs, lips curving upward in a content, relaxed smile.
Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x Third-year Lab Partner Reader
Synopsis: Leona takes care of you after a lab disaster and learns a little more than you intended to reveal.
Tags: SFW, but occasionally suggestive, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, potion use, reader is a little insecure
Word Count: ~15k
Perhaps your measurements were off. Perhaps your stirring technique still hasn’t improved. Perhaps the fire was too hot. Perhaps your magic hadn’t been steady enough.
Ah. It probably was your magic. Your stupidly unstable magic. Will you ever learn to channel properly?
It doesn’t matter now.
The thunderous explosion has already taken you and your fellow third-years by surprise. Professor Crewel is quick to do damage control, using a spell to contain the smoke and prevent it from spreading to the remainder of the lab. There is no saving you, though. Having been standing directly over the cauldron, you end up enveloped in the huge puff of neon pink.
The air is heavy. Your lungs burn. Trying to breathe only results in what feels like an eruption in your chest. A coughing fit overcomes you.
With your ears still ringing and your vision spinning, you try in vain to force yourself off the ground. Your limbs feel heavy. You can barely register a pair of arms wrapping around you, helping you to your feet and guiding your stumbling body out of the lab before propping you up against the nearest wall. You try to suck in as much fresh air as possible, but the tightness of your traitorous lungs refuses to yield.
“Keep still, puppy. Don’t panic.” Crewel appears above you, using a firm but gentle grip to press your shoulders against the wall. His gloved fingers brush over your cheeks and nose, ridding your face of pink dusk.
“You don’t have any burns,” he mutters, seemingly more to himself than you. His voice comes to you as though it were travelling through water.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sir. You’re not sure you manage to say it out loud. If you do, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s probably so used to you making messes for him to clean up that your apologies no longer mean anything.
“Thankfully, you were wearing your goggles. There’s no saying what might have happened to your eyes otherwise. Good pup.”
Good pups don’t usually blow up potionology labs.
Crewel’s hands drop to the buttons of your lab coat as his gaze momentarily drifts to a spot behind you. “Help me get this coat off so she can breathe more easily.”
The wall at your back shifts, beginning to grumble incoherently before cutting itself off with a sneeze that sends vibrations through your body.
Wait. Walls don’t usually do that, do they?
A second pair of hands appears from behind. They drag your lab coat off your frame before getting to work on your goggles and gloves. Still lightheaded, you carefully tilt your head to look over your shoulder.
The sneezing, grumbling wall is Leona Kingscholar. The last person you want seeing you like this.
The sight of him glaring down at you with narrowed emerald eyes causes your breath to hitch and pulls a few more coughs out of you. You try to peel yourself off of him, but Crewel’s grasp holds you firmly in place.
Satisfied with your unbuttoned uniform jacket and your loosened tie, the professor meets your gaze once more. “Steady breaths, now. Are you in any pain?”
You blink slowly. “Head hurts,” you mumble. “ ’m dizzy and my chest feels tight.”
“Noted. Don’t fret, little one. Kingscholar will take you to the infirmary.”
“I will?” You could practically hear your classmate’s eyebrows shooting up.
“Yes, you will.” Crewel finally released his hold on you. Now that you are no longer tacked onto the man behind you, you try to regain your footing, but this time, Leona’s hands are the ones that still your movements, using his grip on your shoulders to pull your back flush against his chest. He begins to protest but is cut off by his own sneezing.
“You’ve barely been doing anything all class,” continues your teacher. “I was surprised you even bothered to show up, so you might as well make yourself useful for once. I’m not sorry if this gets in the way of your plans to nap in the back. I need to figure out what went wrong with the prefect’s potion so I can help her avoid any long-term effects.” His eyes return to you. “I will visit you soon for a more thorough evaluation and to administer any healing potions I deem necessary. Just rest until then.”
With that, Professor Crewel scoops up your pile of discarded outerwear, drops them into a large trash bag you don’t remember him having, and disappears into the laboratory.
Leona’s exasperated sigh ruffles the top of your hair. “Great start to a Monday morning.”
You turn in his grasp to look at him, and he makes no objection. Perhaps this is what emboldens you to step away from him, making one final attempt at standing on your own, but you begin to wobble almost immediately. He is quick to grab you, placing his hands under your armpits and gripping you almost tightly enough to bruise your flesh.
“Don’t make this any more of a pain than it needs to be.”
The ground disappears from beneath your feet, and you come face to face with a white surface. You panic for a moment before realising that Leona has hoisted you over his shoulder and that you’re staring at the back of his lab coat.
“Leona!” You dig your fingers into your back as he begins walking. “I’m already dizzy.”
“Were you expectin’ bridal style, princess?” You feel his sarcastic quip reverberating beneath your hands and chest.
“Put me down!”
“This is quicker,” he argues. He tightens the grip he has on your body as though he’s afraid you’ll start thrashing any second. “It’ll be a real hassle to help you walk over to the infirmary. Just get nice and comfortable up there; it’ll be over in a second.”
You don’t respond, trying your best to avoid focusing on the movement of the floor beneath you. You hold your breath in an attempt to keep your insides inside, but you only end up feeling as though sharp claws are scratching at your lungs.
At least this shitty feeling is a distraction from the fact that, in his attempt to stabilize you, one of your crush’s palms just accidentally groped your ass.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
You don’t remember the infirmary being this far. Perhaps it only feels as though you’ve been precariously balanced on Leona’s broad shoulder forever. His fingers now dig into your lower back and one of your thighs. Being upside down is making your light-headedness worse, and Leona’s swishing tail keeps invading your vision. It drags to the left, bounces a few times, then returns to the right to finish the lap.
“Oi!” Leona snaps at you. “Let go, or I’ll drop you, you damn brat!”
“Sorry, it’s ju— Ow!” Leona’s tail rips itself out of your loose clutch and lashes at your back before the tuft drags down your shoulder and neck, ultimately disappearing from your sight. “It’s just moving and making me so nauseous. Feels like I’m gonna throw up.”
“You better keep it down, herbivore. If you vomit on me, I swear I’m gonna...” He swallows the threat. “This wouldn’t have happened if you ditched with me like I told you to.”
“I know, I know! I needed the practice, though. I’m so shit at potions and I—” One of your hands releases his lab coat and flies to your mouth, which is rapidly filling up with spit. “Leona! Ugh, ’m gonna— put me down right now!”
You are suddenly upright once more, but the bile is already rising in your throat. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re seated on the edge of a bed with Leona’s fingers tangling into your hair and forcing your head down into an empty trashcan. You hadn’t even realised you’d entered the infirmary.
Your throat and nose burn, and tears leak from your eyes. The stream feels endless.
For a moment, you think it’s over, allowing Leona to remove the bin from beneath you. “Shit,” he mutters, baring his sharp canines as he grimaces. “That’s fucking gross.”
You don’t have time to argue, too focused on snatching the bin back for round two.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
A cool palm presses against your forehead. “Still burnin’ up.”
You peel your eyes open to meet Leona’s emerald gaze. He’s changed into his P.E. uniform and pulled his hair back. His eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration. “You look like ass. Still got a headache?”
Your throat feels raw as you try to force out a response. “Mhm... might die...”
You glance around the infirmary. The curtains are drawn tight and the light directly above you is off. The candles on each bedside cabinet are lit, filling the room with a green hue. There’s light spilling into the room from the hallway and from a room in the corner.
“That easy to kill you, huh?” He smirks down at you. “Shoulda told me sooner, brat.”
“ ’m not a brat.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He slides off the infirmary bed and walks out of your line of vision.
You wince as you force yourself up a little, letting your weight rest on your elbows. “Are you leaving me?”
“What,” he scoffs, “I take my hands off you for a few seconds and you’re already missing me? You’re like a clingy cub.” You hear him rummaging around for a few moments before he returns with a glass vial. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s just time for another dose of your medicine.”
Another dose? “Did Crewel come by already?”
He pauses in his tracks, levelling you with an incredulous stare. “Jeez. You really are that out of it, huh?” He tosses open the curtains of the nearest window. “Any idea what time it is? He’s already checked on you four times and force-fed you two doses of this stuff.” He adopts a mocking tone. “You even tried fighting the poor guy after all the trouble he went through to make this for you.”
You sit up fully, pressing a palm to your warm temple in a feeble attempt to soothe the throbbing as you stare blankly through the window at the night sky. You prod at your memories for any recollection of the past few hours to no avail. “Is that why my mouth tastes so gross?”
“No,” he deadpans, “your mouth’s nasty ’cuz you wouldn’t stop puking earlier.”
“Ew.”
“Ew is right. You gave the ghost nurse on duty a hard time, ya know.” The rickety bed squeaks beneath you when he plops down near your feet and hands you the vial. “Gonna take this or not? Don’t tell me you need the prof to come to feed you again. Or would you prefer I do it this time?”
You ignore his condescending tone and pluck it from his fingers, uncapping it and wincing at the sharp metallic scent. You pinch your nose and down it with a shudder. “Ugh, yuck! How much more of this am I gonna have to drink?”
“Only two more bottles.” Leona fishes a pair of pills out of his pocket. “Take these, too. S’for the fever and headache. You can chew ’em up.”
You follow his instructions and instantly regret it. You kick him in the hip as he snickers at your plight. “Get me water right now, Leona.”
“Can’t believe you really fell for that. I really hope you’re smarter when you’re not sick.” He leans over and hands you a bottle you hadn’t realised he was holding and watches you chug its contents. “If you’re strong enough to kick that hard, you’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
You gently toss the now empty bottle at his head, slightly disappointed that he catches it before it can whack him. “Have you really been here since this morning?”
“It’s not like I had anything better to do.”
“What about classes? You missed them for someone you don’t even know that well?”
“I’d have missed them for no reason. Don’t start feelin’ too special.” Right. Of course. “I already know all that stuff anyway.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Made Ruggie bring me dinner.” Of course he did. “There’s some for you too, if you want it.”
“I’ll probably bring it back up,” you respond, frowning slightly, “I’m sorry for all this trouble.”
“You’re not welcome, brat. I thought this would be a good place to nap. Had no idea you could be such a handful.” His voice holds no true bite, but his words still make you feel bad. Leona leans back onto his palms, staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll admit that it was a little entertaining, though. You’re always so quiet; never thought I’d hear you say that kind of stuff.”
You scrunch your face in confusion. “What kind of stuff?”
He pauses for a few moments, staring at you as though he is contemplating his next move. You can almost see the gears turning behind his eyes. He eventually lets out a scoff. “Maybe it’s best I don’t tell you. Save you the embarrassment.” The man before you apparently finds some sort of amusement in watching you rack your brain. “You’re lucky I’m here and not someone like that scheming cephalo-punk. He’d have recorded it all and blackmailed you. Maybe I shoulda done that.”
“Leona.” You ignore your headache and scoot forward. “Tell me what I said.”
He suddenly stands and places a hand on your shoulder, coaxing you back into a lying position. “Don’t get so worked up. If you’re good, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He sighs. He’s been doing that all day. Because of you. “You’re almost like a kid. Quit bein’ such a headache and go back to sleep.”
You find it in you to bite out one more complaint. “I feel disgusting, Leona.”
“You smell disgusting too.” Before you can snap back, he grabs a black drawstring bag from the bedside cabinet and deposits it on your lap. He nods to the corner. “Bathroom’s over there.”
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The light in the infirmary bathroom is blinding. As you sit on the toilet to relieve yourself, you squint at the contents of the bag: a new toothbrush, an unopened tube of toothpaste in the brand that Sam stocks, a pack of baby wipes, a few gold coloured hair ties, and some clothes that seem way too big for you.
You busy yourself with scrubbing the foul taste off your tongue, peeling off your sweaty uniform, and using the wipes to clean your burning flesh the best you can. The clothes Leona prepared are too large. The sweatpants are too long and the wide collar of the black shirt threatens to slide off your shoulders. You don’t have nearly enough energy to cast the resizing spell you learned last year, and you doubt Leona would do it for you just because you asked. The material is so soft against your flesh, though, that you have no intentions of complaining.
You suppose you can’t complain even if you wanted to. By the time you leave the bathroom, Leona is passed out on one of the beds in the furthest corner of the infirmary.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The next time you awake, it is to the sound of Crewel’s voice. The candles are blown out, but you still manage to see his silhouette leaning in the doorway.
“You may return to Savanaclaw if you please.”
“I know.” There is a pause before Leona speaks again. “She doesn’t remember.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” the professor responds.
“She’ll want to know.”
“Shouldn’t you of all people know what curiosity does to cats? Enough of this. She’s stirring.”
Had you more energy, you’d have started asking questions. Right now, though, it feels difficult to even move, much less make sense of everything they’re saying.
“Medicine time, pup. I must urge you to be good this time.” You barely manage an incoherent grumble before you groggily roll onto your side and haul the thin sheet above your head.
“It’s the middle of the night,” says Crewel, impatience lining his voice. “You are not the only one who wishes to sleep. I will not hesitate to use magic to restrain you again.”
“Go away,” you grumble sleepily, “that shit’s nasty.”
Suddenly, you feel the bed rock and the linens are yanked off your body. It takes you a moment to realise that you’re on your back once more. Before you can punch or kick at your assailant, a heavy weight settles on top of you. Leona glares down at you. “You’re really startin’ to drive me up a wall.” You feebly slap at his shoulders, but he pays you no mind. One of his hands grabs your jaw and squeezes. “Open your mouth. Now.”
A few more seconds of this is all you can manage before you yelp at the pain. He takes the opportunity to shove two fingers into your mouth, pressing your tongue down and making you gag. Crewel takes the opportunity to pour the potion straight down your throat. You nearly choke. Leona’s fingers remain in your mouth even after you’ve managed to swallow, and you don’t hesitate to bite down on them. He yanks his hand back with a pained curse and finally climbs off of you. You wipe the corners of your mouth, cleaning any of the potion that escaped.
Crewel clears his throat with a grimace. “How untrained you both are,” he mutters. He briefly runs the back of his hand across your forehead. “That’s much better than last time. Keep resting. You too, Leona.” He spares a glance at the beastman. “And try not to rough-house her too much.”
“Tell her not to bite me again!” But Crewel’s back is already turned to the two of you. You begin to apologise, but Leona’s snarky laugh cuts you off. “Guess I can’t call you a herbivore anymore, huh?
You don’t respond. You’re still spiralling from the feeling of his weight crushing you, of his knees digging into your sides, of his fingers stuffing themselves into your mouth…
Leona Kingscholar was just on top of you, pinning you to a flimsy infirmary bed. You roll back onto your side, giving him your back as you try to slow your racing heart.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
You wake up in your room, confused and thirsty.
It takes you a few moments to make sense of your surroundings and realise that Leona must have brought you here while you were still asleep. The clock on the wall tells you it’s midday. Diligent as you may be, you recognise that there’s no point in rushing to classes this late. Not when you still feel this exhausted.
On the bedside table sit two bottles of water. You waste no time with them.
Halfway through your second bottle, you pause to examine the other items. The last dose of that awful concoction, a bottle of painkillers, a paper bag that smells really good, the drawstring bag from last night, a thermometer, and a... note?
You grab the piece of paper, staring at the signature for a few seconds before you actually begin reading:
“If you really can’t figure out a potion, just tell me next time. Drink the last of the healing potion and take a damn shower.
- L”
You are only slightly surprised at the elegance of his penmanship. He’s a prince, after all. What you don’t understand is why he bothered to leave a note at all.
Truth be told, you don’t understand why he’s done anything so far. Before yesterday, Leona only ever asked you for help skipping lessons (requests to which you never agreed) or told you where to sit so he could nap in behind you. He almost never helps anyone, and now he’s taking care of you all of a sudden? You of all people? You didn’t even think he knew your name.
For a moment, a part of you wonders if he somehow caught you watching him from under the bleachers at his spelldrive practice last week. Or from the back of the hall during Crowley’s last impromptu speech. Or from across the cafeteria everyday at lunch. Or…
A wave of panic washes over you. What if he knows you’ve been eyeing him and decided to play a nasty prank on you.
No. You push the thought away. Leona wouldn’t do something like that. He’d never waste his energy on silly pranks, and most certainly not on someone like you.
So then why? What is he getting out of this?
You use the thermometer even though you already know your fever is gone.
You down the silver potion and chase it with the remainder of your water.
You don’t need the painkillers.
The paper bag must be the food Ruggie brought you last night. You don’t realise just how hungry you ate until you unwrap your favourite sandwich. He probably just picked something randomly and you got lucky.
While you eat, you peep into the drawstring bag to find your dirty school uniform folded just the way you left it, along with the empty vials that once held Crewel’s concoction. You should wash. Wash your uniform so it will dry by this evening. Wash the bottles so you can return them to Crewel tomorrow. Wash the clothes you slept in and return them to Leo—
Hold on. You glare back down at Leona’s note. Did he just call you stinky?!
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The evening breeze at Savanaclaw caresses your skin. The air is a bit warm, but not sticky. You clutch the black drawstring bag against your chest, the clothes Leona lent you neatly folded inside.
The student guarding the dorm entrance happens to be your lab partner from yesterday. And, well…
“Ribbit.”
You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Are you... how...” You look around as though you will find the words you’re looking for hiding under one of the decorative shrubs. “Did my explosion do that to you?”
“Ribbit! Ribbit, ribbit!” The boy shakes his head back and forth before launching into a series of wild gestures and frantic croaks. He finally finishes and looks at you with a pleading look in his eye.
“I, uh... didn’t catch any of that.” You wince at his pained ribbit. “I think you should go see Professor Crewel.”
Your lab mate sighs and tries to respond, but you quickly cut in before he can begin serenading you once more. “Look, I’m here to see Leona. Can you show me where to go?”
With a final, slightly confused croak, he offers a small nod and gestures for you to follow him.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Leona is sprawled out on his stomach, tail flicking lazily from side to side. His ears twitch when you take a step into his room. “Finally took a bath, huh?” He yawns deeply, not even bothering to open his eyes. “You reeked of chemicals before.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“How do you people live with such a pathetic sense of smell? Knew it was you from halfway down the corridor.” He finally rolls onto his back and opens his eyes, the scar on his eye stretching as he raises an eyebrow at you. “Most prey consider it unwise to waltz straight into the lion’s den. You servin’ yourself up for dinner or something?”
“You don’t look very excited to eat me,” you argue, extending your arms to offer him the bag. “I’ve come to return the clothes you lent me.”
He stares at you with a befuddled expression. “You came all the way here for that? Surprised you didn’t just keep ’em.”
“Why would I? They are yours, aren’t they?”
“You prayin’ for a yes?” he asks with a sly grin that makes you look down at your feet. Did it suddenly get really hot in the dorm, or is the thought of wearing Leona’s clothes making your entire body feel warmer? “They are mine. I’m just so generous, aren’t I? Toss ’em anywhere. Ruggie’ll deal with it later.”
“Ruggie handles your laundry, too?” You roll your eyes and make your way to the dressing table, happy to finally face away from him for a few moments. “I washed them already, so you can give the poor guy a rest.” You neatly place the bag in the corner of the desk before pulling out the chair, flipping it to face him, taking a seat.
“Why are you gettin’ comfy?”
“That eager to get rid of me?”
“Got no one else to badger?” Leona sits up with a groan.
You ignore the quip. “Your sentry is croaking,” you begin, thinking back to the distressed ribbits of your classmate. “Did I do that?”
“Do I look like I have time to pay attention to all my dorm members’ problems?” His hand reaches under his loose shirt to scratch at his tummy, revealing that the waistband of his pants is sitting dangerously low on his hips. “From what I hear, he did it to himself. He tried remaking the truth potion from scratch after we left, but he messed it up. He’ll be fine in another day or two.”
“Sounds like you were paying attention, then,” you mutter. The potion you were supposed to make yesterday would force the drinker to answer questions truthfully for a certain amount of time.
“Just be happy that’s not you.” You shudder at the thought.
You cross your arms, doing everything in your power to avoid looking at the tufts of hair peeking over Leona’s waistband. “You promised to tell me what kinds of weird things I said yesterday.”
“I said I’d tell you if you were good.” He raises his hand to show you a few purple spots below his knuckles. “You have not been good.”
You are stricken by a pang of guilt. You had no idea you’d bitten him that hard. Way to bag a prince, you fool. “I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” He scoffs. “Don’t make me laugh. Took me by surprise and pissed me right off, but a kitten nibble like this isn’t nearly enough to hurt a lion like me.”
“So I’ve graduated from herbivore to kitten?”
“That’s what you took from that?” His eyes all but roll out of his head. “Let me ask you something. Is this your first time almost blowing up the lab?”
“You’d know if you came to class more often,” you joke, earning yourself yet another eyeroll. “I’ve had a ton of mishaps before, but this is the first time this year. And so far, this has been the... loudest. Why?”
“Do the potions ever come out right?”
“Eventually, but with some pretty nasty side effects.” You think back to all of your fiascos from before Leona ended up in your year. You shrunk yourself to the size of a pen more than once. Last year, you turned Rook’s hair pink. Once, during your first year, you made ivy grow out of Crewel’s nose. You wince at the memory of that last one. “Crewel’s probably really sick of cleaning up all my messes.”
“That’s what happened yesterday.”
“Huh?”
Leona stands and walks over to a messy pile of books in the corner before crouching and flipping through a few of them. None of them are NRC required texts. In fact, most of them aren’t even in the common tongue.
“You made a truth potion, alright,” he continues. “A real strong one. Strong enough that breathin’ in the fumes was enough for it to work on you.” Having found the book he was searching for, he grabs it and pads over to you.
“The smoke and chemicals are what made you sick, but the potion itself worked. Thing is, instead of just making you answer questions truthfully, it made you start revealing all kinds of truths all on your own with zero restraint. It turned off your filter, made you say all the crazy shit that was in your head, and then wiped your memory of the whole thing. Ever thought of workin’ for STYX?”
He towers over you with the book tucked under his arm. He’s so close that you have to crane your neck to look him in the eyes, the only other option being to stare straight at his groin. You can smell him. “Leona, you’re too close.” You try to scoot back, but the chair simply thumps against the dresser behind you. “Let me get up.”
“I thought you made yourself at home there,” he retorts, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. He places a hand on one of the chair’s arms, leaning over you and almost caging you beneath him. “Now you wanna run? Are you scared I’m finally ready to swallow you whole?”
You manage to catch yourself and refrain from biting your lip. His face, his scent, his warmth. It’s all too close.
You take a breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart, then sneer up at him with all the faux disgust you can muster. “Scared? Of you? Never.” You place your palms against his hunched shoulders and shove him lightly. “Now move.”
The measly push itself does nothing to shake him, but he relents with a sigh, taking a step back and giving you enough room to stand and remove yourself from beneath him. He drops a knee into the now vacant seat and leans over the back of the chair. The book falls onto the dresser with a thud.
“Leona, I want to know what I said.”
“Why’s it matter? You can’t un-say it.”
“I know that, but...” But what if you accidentally told him something insanely embarrassing? Like how often you think of him, or—
Stop. Do you really want to know?
“You did a whole lot of snivellin’ for starters,” he begins, flipping to the back of the book and looking through the index. “Started cryin’ and groanin’ about how much everything hurt. ’Leona, my ribs are crushing me! Leona, there’s vomit in my nose! Leona, my head hurts!’ Wouldn’t quit pesterin’ me.”
He finds what he’s looking for in the index and flips to a page near the centre of the book. He pulls a hair tie off his wrist to use as a bookmark and slams it shut before turning to sit in the chair properly.
Leona Kingscholar likes to manspread.
“Then you started whinin’ about how much you miss your cat, and cryin’ cuz you thought that no one at home missed you.
“Then Crewel showed up and I nearly died of second-handembarrassment. ‘I’m sorry for always fucking up your potions! I promise I don’t mean to cause all this trouble. I want you to like me. I want my teachers to like me but everyone hates me because I’m not good at anything.’ “
The high pitched voice he used to mock you was really starting to itch your skin. “Surely I didn’t sound anything like that.”
“Why ask if you weren’t gonna believe me?”
“Your impression of my voice is way off! But go on… what else did I say.?”
“No clue,” he responds. “I had to leave the room while Crewel wiped more pink stuff off you because it was making me sneeze. I didn’t wanna hear anymore anyway. The second-hand embarrassment might have ended me.”
What do you even say to that?
You sit on the edge of his bed, but promptly stand again. These sheets probably cost more than your entire dorm. You shift your weight from side to side, trying to find the right words. “That is really embarrassing. I’m sorry you had to see that. Please... please don’t tell anyone.”
“Relax. I got better things to do than run lip about you.”
“Thank you, Leona,” you say softly. “Not just for that. Thanks for looking after me yesterday, even when I was bugging your nose. I still don’t get why you’d do something like that, but thank you.”
“Geez, you thank everyone this profusely for everything? Gonna start kissin’ my feet next?”
“Ew! No way.”
His eyes narrow at you. “What do you mean, ew? You sayin’ my feet are nasty?”
“Do you want me to kiss your feet? That’s gross! Don’t tell me you’re into that.”
“Hold up. Don’t get the wrong idea now, kitten, I’m just sayin’—”
“Leona!” Ruggie’s voice floats down the hall. “Leona, did you forget about your housewarden meeting?” He starts pounding on the door.
“I can hear you just fine, Ruggie. Quit yellin’. Gimme five minutes!”
The door flies open. “You say that every time I— oh?” Ruggie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t know you were here, (y/n). You’re looking way better than yesterday.”
“Hi, Ruggie,” you greet, giving him a tiny wave. “I’m guessing you brought me those things? Lazy bones over here would never.”
“Oi!” Leona’s interjection goes ignored.
“Yeah, that was me. You were out cold when I came by, though,” he laughs, waving you off when you try to thank him. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
The question takes you by surprise. “Do I?”
“Yeah. Sounded like you were havin’ a wild dream. Something about Rook looking better with pink hair. Now that I’d love to see.”
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
You sit cross-legged on your bed with Leona’s book in your lap. He’d shoved it into your hands moments before kicking you out of his room so he could head to his meeting.
“What’s this for?” you’d asked him.
“Do I really gotta spell everything out for you in crayon? Take it and get out before I change my mind.”
Now, you stare at the tattered tome. It was an unfamiliar potionology textbook that definitely wasn’t on your school’s reference list. There are a few juvenile scribbles in the corner of the fly leaf: “FK” struck through by a few wobbly lines, followed by “LK”.
You slowly flip through the pages, taking note of blocks of text underlined with fluorescent yellow as well as shaky bullet points hastily scratched into the margins. You occasionally come across scratched-out lines of writing. Only by straining your eyes are you able to make out phrases like “stupid Kifaji” and “Falena is a dumb-dumb.”
You eventually reach the page marked by Leona’s hair tie. The chapter heading screams at you: “COMMON ERRORS WHEN BREWING ADVANCED POTIONS.”
You don’t spare it a second glance. Your eyes are fixed, rather, on the gold elastic between your fingers. It’s identical to the one currently on your wrist, the one you couldn’t bear to part with when you returned the remainder of Leona’s belongings. “He wouldn’t miss a single hair tie,” you’d told yourself.
This one is different. This one had been on his wrist, likely because he’d intended to use it. Or perhaps, he’d already used it.
You don’t think twice before bringing the band to your nose and inhaling deeply.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
You are the first student to arrive at the laboratory the next morning. “Good morning, Professor.”
“Good morning to you, my most troublesome puppy.” You wince at his tone. Crewel’s brows are pinched together as he glares at you from behind his desk. Maybe if you had a tail, you’d tuck it between your legs and run back through the door.
You approach the desk slowly, eying the way he casually spins his pointer in his hand. The relaxed, almost hypnotic motion is almost enough to put you at ease. Almost.
When you finally stand in front of him, only a few metres of desk space separating you, you gently place a pouch on the wooden surface. A soft clinking can be heard from within.
“I cleaned your vials for you,” you begin, voice trembling. “Thank you for making those healing potions, and for taking care of me. I’m truly sorry for all the trouble I caused last class, and for anything I might have said to offend you while I wasn’t aware of what I was doing. I accept any discipline you deem necessary, sir.”
To your surprise, his gaze softens. With a deep sigh, he places the pointer on top of your peace offering and slides them both aside. As he leans forward, elbows perched on the desk and chin resting on his interlocked fingers, you hear the door open behind you. Footsteps and sleepy voices begin filling the lab.
“Look at me, little one. Looking at one’s feet is not only an impolite habit, but also one that is bad for your posture.” You straighten up as he instructs.
“Failure is a necessary step to success,” he continues. “I do sometimes wish you would fail a little less… spectacularly, but I will never begrudge you for these mishaps. Not when your diligence is so evident. You will try again today and you will succeed. You will bounce back, just as you always do.” He stands and turns his back to you, busying himself with the beakers on the nearby shelf. “Now cease this moping and hand out the lab books.”
You hand out the lab books as instructed.You help set up the apparatus. You greet your Savanaclaw classmate who is, as Leona predicted, no longer ribbiting.
Professor Crewel is halfway through his instructions for today when a sluggish lion with a nasty bedhead strolls in, mouth wide open and teeth bared in the midst of a yawn.
“Twice in one week, Kingscholar.” Crewel glowers at Leona with his arms crossed. “I would praise you, if not for your tardiness.”
“Please, don’t pause your lesson for me, teacher.”
The professor pinches the bridge of his nose, watching as Leona all but drapes himself across the stool to your left. “Your disrespect knows no bounds. You ought to be collared and whipped some day.” Disgruntled though he may be, Crewel continues issuing his orders.
“Partner with me,” Leona murmurs from beside you. His groggy voice is deeper than you’re used to hearing it. You look up at him in confusion.
“You’re willingly working with me? Is the sun gonna rise in the west next?”
“Who said anything about working?” He shoots you that grin, that wicked sneer that lets a gleaming fang peek out at you. You roll your eyes and look back to Crewel, to the apparatus in front of you, to the piles of ingredients up front, to the lab book beneath your drumming fingers...
Anything to get your eyes off his mouth.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Leona, indeed, had no intention of working.
You call over to the beastman who has been leaning against the counter, silently watching your every move. “I only have two hands, Leona!”
“That’s great news,” he responds. “Any more and I’d be worried.”
“Do you really not intend to help me?”
“My presence in this boring class is already a huge gift. You should be singin’ my praises.”
“Careful there,” you warn. “You’re so full of yourself, I fear you might burst any second. One explosion was enough for this week.”
“Is this how you thank the guy whose books you’re studying from? Listen, kitten, my involvement here won’t do you a lick of good on your final.” His tone carries a sense of finality. “Now quit pesterin’ me.”
You recall the tips in Leona’s textbook and try your best to keep a steady hand. You pour the powdered chrysanthemums into the cauldron with your left hand while trying to maintain a consistent stir with your right. The white substance makes your nose itch a bit, but your nearby partner is the one who sneezes. You resist the urge to pour faster.
You are so focused on your concoction that you don’t realise Leona is standing right beside you.
“This stuff stinks.” You jump, almost dropping the entire beaker into the cauldron. “Easy, scaredy cat. If you have to start over, it’ll take even longer for me to get lunch.”
“Don’t sneak up on me like that, then,” you hiss. “You can leave if you so badly want to. You’re not doing anything here anyway.”
“You hate my company or somethin’?” From the corner of your eye, you see him feign a pained expression. “And to think I was about to remind you that this is the part where you turn down the heat.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t stop stirring.”
You do as he says. Of course you do. Leona disappears from beside you, crouching to cast a minor spell on the fire beneath the cauldron. You think that you briefly feel something brushing against your ankle, but when you look down, there’s nothing there.
Perhaps you imagined it.
He stands a second later, this time right behind you so he can peer over your shoulder. You can feel the warmth oozing off of him and seeping into your skin, making your entire body tingle.
“You need to be able to do all this stuff yourself,” chides Leona. “There are no partners in the exams.”
“I know, I know,” you huff. “It’s hard to focus on everything at once.”
“That’s your problem. You shouldn’t need to focus. You shouldn’t even need to be awake to change the size of a flame. That should come as easy as breathin’.”
“Easy for you to say,” you huff. “You probably learned how to do that when you were ten.”
“Seven.” You recall the childish scribbles in his book.
“Not the point!”
“Quit yammerin’ and just add your magic.” Leona reaches around your body to pull your magical pen from your pocket and places it into your free hand. “Keep a steady stirring rhythm with one hand and cast with the other. Slowly. If you channel too much at once like last time, it’ll blow up again.”
You try to calm your breathing. Steady. Steady. Steady.
Slowly but surely, the potion begins taking on a pink colour, one that’s a lighter, more glittery shade of pink than the one you blew up.
“ ’N you made it seem so hard,” he grumbles, the feeling of his breath right against your ear making you shiver. “You only have one brain. Certain things need to be muscle memory so you can give your attention to the things that really matter.”
“I’m still sort of new to this whole magic thing, you know.”
“Is that the excuse you’re gonna keep throwin’ around for the rest of your life?” You look over your shoulder to glare at him, but he isn’t leveling you with the narrowed gaze you imagined he would. He isn’t even looking at you, but rather, at the fire near your feet. It goes out. “Done.”
“Are you now?” Crewel asks. How long has he been standing there?
You rip yourself from your partner, stepping away from the cauldron and watching as Leona transfers the steaming potion into a reagent flask before handing it to the professor for inspection. He takes a few steps back, until he is beside you.
Crewel holds the flask up to the light, gently swishing the pearlescent concoction around as he scrutinises its glimmer. He then waves some of the steam towards himself and takes a tentative sniff. He mumbles to himself for a few moments, and anxiety begins to sink its claws into you, but before it can do any real damage, your teacher turns back to you with a smile. “Well done. You’ve worked hard.”
“Thank you professor.” You accept the flask and stopper it, avoiding Crewel’s gaze for fear of him seeing the tears of relief welling in the corner of your eyes.
“It still requires testing,” the professor reminds him, slapping the pointer into his own palm. “I expect a full report by next week, so I suggest you begin.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” you reassure him. “We’ll use the rest of the class time to get started, right Leona? Leona?!”
The lion is already walking away, tail lazily swishing behind him. “My stomach’s growlin’. I’m heading out.”
“Disobedient cur! You may not leave until I have dismissed the class!”
But Leona’s already halfway through the door, holding two lab books instead of one.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
“Have you truly managed to tame le Roi des lions?”
You look up at Rook from your hunched over position by the lab sink. It is not rare for the two of you to be the last ones left in the potionology lab. You turn the faucet off. “What are you on about now, Rook?”
The blond looks at you with that smile. The one that declares, I know something you don’t. The one that is so very Rook. “He does not bare his fangs at you.”
“You talk about him like he’s some savage beast that’s finally being domesticated.”
“I’m just saying he seems rather docile as of late.”
“Docile? Please.” You scoff, handing him the last of the beakers so he can dry it and put it away. “Lazy more like it.”
“Au contraire! He was rather agile when he thought you were in danger the other day.” He closes the cupboard doors and turns to face you. “Why, with the way he swept you off your feet, I dare say he is rather taken with you.”
You laugh. Truly laugh. Leona Kingscholar, taken with you? “Sweet merciful Seven, Rook— you have the wrong idea.”
“Have I?”
“You have. I can assure you that His Royal Highness, Prince Leonaof Sunset Savannah, would never be taken with someone like me. It’s not like that.”
“And I can assure you that I am an expert in this field,” he argues. “It seems you are too busy selling yourself short to see what I have been seeing.”
You roll your eyes, heaving open the heavy lab door and gesturing for him to follow you out. “It really isn’t what you think it is.” It can’t possibly be. Not when he’s him, and not when you’re you.
“Well enlighten me then, little Trickster. Tell me what really happened.”
You sigh. What a pain. “It’s simple. I fucked up my potion the way I always do. He’s got a sensitive nose, so he left the room to get away from the smell, but then Crewel forced him to take me to the infirmary. He only carried me so he could get it over with as quickly as possible.”
“He stayed with you in the infirmary,” Rook says.
“Only because he wanted an excuse to skip his classes,” you defend. You pause in the middle of the corridor. “Wait. How do you know that?” You really shouldn’t be this surprised. It’s Rook.
“I was beside myself with worry for you,” he exclaims, dramatically closing his eyes and touching the back of his hand to his forehead. “As soon as I finished tidying the lab, I came to check on you, but Leona refused to let me in. He only unlocked the door when Professor Crewel arrived. He was being so protective, it made my heart flutter!”
You remember witnessing several instances of Vil scolding Rook for stalking Leona. “I somehow get the feeling that his refusal to let you in had less to do with me and more to do with you…”
Rook has an odd glimmer in his eye as he turns away from you. “Your suspicion isn’t entirely without reason, I’ll admit. Still, I can’t imagine that’s why he spent the night.”
He walks away, the echo of his retreating footsteps now your only companion in this vast, empty hallway.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The bleachers protect you from the afternoon sun and the unusually high wind. Over the past few weeks, you’ve learned to love the damp, grassy smell of the shady spot underneath the stands. It’s comfortable, quiet, and provides you with enough cover to see without being seen.
Through the cracks between the stands, you can see Leona in the sky. It’s a more casual practice today; the boys are all wearing their PE uniforms instead of their spelldrive suits. Their leader flits back and forth, barking orders at the players and pointing out formations.
Mean as he may sound right now, everyone knows that Leona cares about his boys. If he didn’t, he never would have pestered Vargas to add an extra hour of training every week. He wouldn’t show up early to prepare the equipment on his own so they can spend as much time warming up as possible. He wouldn’t have arranged for extra water coolers to be installed near the spelldrive field.
You’ve never heard him say it, but he doesn’t need to: Leona indubitably loves his guys.
And they love him too.
Leona belongs up there with them, where the golden rays of the setting sun act as his spotlight, where wind howls his praises, where the clouds and birds part for him. Leona belongs up there, where he is loved. Where he is king.
And you belong down here.
You watch as he gestures for a water break, sinking to the ground with the others until he is no longer in your line of vision. You close your eyes and lean against one of the columns that support the seating structure.
The metal is cool against your head. You would take a nap if it weren’t for the magic jar of flames you held on your lap. It didn’t take long for you to figure out how to maintain the size of the flames without looking, but changing it still required your full attention.
Perhaps you could practice now. Keep your eyes closed and slowly increase the size. Slow and steady. Steady stream of magic. Steady, steady...
“I should try napping here some day.”
Your shock at the sudden voice rips a scream from your throat, but you don’t hear it over the sound of your jar exploding. Your eyes fly open, and you find yourself surrounded by a protective barrier. You are unscathed, but several shards of glass are stuck to the other side of the barrier.
Leona, who is crouched a mere few feet away from you, drops the shield and extinguishes the flames that have escaped the now shattered jar.
“Jumpy, kitten?” He grins at you. “Don’t let me interrupt your cat nap.”
“You did that on purpose!”
“What’s with the jar?”
“I was taking your oh-so-sagacious advice,” you huff. “I’m trying to manipulate flames without having to focus too hard.”
Leona laughs. He laughs at you. “And somehow, not only did you not hear me comin’, but this little distraction was enough to nearly burn down the school. You were focusin’ on it. Real hard, too.”
You cross your arms. “Shouldn’t you be in the sky right now?”
“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He watches you with an uninterested expression as you levitate the shards and float them into a nearby trash can. “ ’s pretty hard to focus when you’re starin’ at me from down here, though.”
“I was not staring at you,” you lie.
He tilts his head, a questioning brow raised. “Someone else then? One of my guys?”
“What? No way!”
“Then why’re you here?”
“I... um...” You hesitate. Why are you here? “So you’ve already forgotten, haven’t you? We need to test this potion and write up a lab report. I’m here to make you do it as soon as your practice ends so we can get it out of the way.” You know that with a voice so shaky, he won’t believe you.
“Is that so?” He finally stands up, forcing you to look up at him from your seat on the grass. His gaze is sharp enough to pierce your very soul. “Maybe I’d buy that if this was your first doin’ this.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck— “How did you—”
“Sometimes, I wish my nose was as dull as yours.” To your surprise, Leona extends his arm, offering you a hand up. You begrudgingly take it, gasping at the ease with which he suddenly hauls you to your feet.
“At first I thought it was that hunter pest,” he continues, “but the scent was different. Came to check one day during a water break and found you dozing off.”
“So all this time, you... why didn’t you say anything?”
“Cuz I didn’t care. You can’t do any harm if you’re snoozin’, so why waste my time trying to get rid of you?” Leona looks up at the handful of spelldrive players heading back up into the air. “Turn around.”
“What? Why?” You scrunch your face in confusion as though you’re not already almost backing him. You nearly jump right out of your skin and spin back around when you feel his hands in your hair. “What are you doing?!”
“Can you chill?” He sounds as though he’s holding something between his teeth. “I’m just makin’ sure the wind doesn’t blow your hair in your eyes while you’re up there.” He is surprisingly gentle with you, tenderly swooping any stubborn strands into a hair tie.
“Up there? The hell are you on about?! I don’t recall volunteering for a workout.”
“Ruggie’s absent today so there’s an odd number of players. I need it to be even for the next set of drills.” He tightens the elastic ever so slightly. “You’re lurking around here anyway, so you might as well be good for something. Too tight?”
“No...” You reach up and poke at the hair tie, the very one that was in Leona’s mouth a few seconds ago. You spin back around to glare at him. “No as in it’s not too tight and no as in I’m helping with your stupid drills.”
“You’ve played spelldrive during our PE classes,” he huffs.
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at it!” You swat at him in protest as he wraps his fingers firmly around your forearm and begins tugging you out of the shade. “Really, Leona, I’m a shit flyer.”
“Do you really think I’d take a ‘shit flyer’ into my sky to slow me down?” You shudder as you feel a chill run through you. You thought it might be from the way Leona narrowed his eyes at you, but then you look down to find yourself in your PE uniform.
You don’t have time to start grilling the lion before he yells out to his team. “Oi! Someone get this cub a broom!” His gaze returns to you where you are practically stuck to his side with how close he’s tugged you.
You definitely didn’t just try to discreetly sniff him. Certainly not.
“Pair up with Epel,” he instructs. “And you better not let me catch you slackin’ off and slowin’ him down.”
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The sun has already begun setting when Epel takes a swig from his water bottle before tossing it to you. “I thought you said you couldn’t fly, (y/n).”
“I said I wasn’t good at flying.” You pull your legs up onto your broom, sitting cross-legged. The movement makes the wooden length dip slightly lower. Your magic pours into it, keeping you afloat with a slight bounce as you unscrew the cap of Epel's bottle, not wanting to drink directly from the spout.
He tilts his head. “Well, none of the bad flyers I know can fly like you.” You’ve never seen him grin like this. He’s so different now that he’s in his element. “Can you imagine Azul sitting on his broom so casually?”
“Shall I tell him you think he’s a bad flyer?”
“No!”
You can’t help but snicker at his panicked expression. “Relax, I’m just kidding.” You thank him for the water as you throw his bottle back to him.
“Anyway, your flying is fine. You’re not nearly as fast as any of us—”
“Hey!”
“—B-but your technique isn’t too shabby!” He gives you a pensive look. “Actually, your magic seems a lot more stable than what Rook let on.”
Your magic? Stable? Does this guy even hear himself? “Does Rook talk about me a lot or something?”
“Only when you blow stuff up,” he snorts. “Which seems to be often. Looks like you’ve recovered from the last time, though. Pretty quickly too… He said you would.”
“Did he now?”
“Yeah. That’s why I was scared to partner with you at first. You blew up the lab, slept for only two days, and now you’re up here on a broom looking for even more trouble. I thought you’d lose control and blow me up next! I should have trusted Leona’s judgement. Sorry for underestimating you.”
You follow him in steering the handle of your broom downward to begin your slow descent. You can’t help but tease him a little. “Do you speak to all your seniors so bluntly or is it just me?”
“Only the ones that aren’t as prickly as Vil.”
Leona’s rough voice cuts off your retort. “Hurry up and get down here! And uncross your legs or you’ll start cramping.”
“Geez…” You hop off the broom and let it clatter to the earth. “You’re even bossier out here.”
“Says the one huntin’ me down to write a damn lab report,” he grumbles.
“Quiet, you,” you hiss, turning your back to him and facing Epel, who raises his brows at your exchange.
“You two have Alchemy together?”
“Potionology,” you correct. You can’t help but place a hand on the boy’s head of windswept lavender hair. “And I gotta make lazy bones do his homework. See ya around.”
“Who're you callin’ lazy?” huffs Leona as you begin walking away from the field. “I all but dragged you into the sky.”
“Hah! I’m surprised someone like you ended up in such an active sport.” You sigh. “Now I’m stinky and gross, just like you.”
“Got any more adjectives you wanna throw at me?”
“Got a whole bunch,” you declare. Forceful but thoughtful, lazy but intelligent, mean but so hilariously witty, moody but tenacious, delectably alluring… “We'd be here all night if I start listing them, though, so I’ll spare you.”
“I rejoice at your merciful benevolence,” he mocks.
“I’m going back to my dorm to shower.” You begin sliding your bag off your shoulder. “Here. Take the potion to Savanaclaw.”
“Waste of time. Just shower at Savanaclaw.”
You look at him as though he's grown a second head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? You’re the one who's in a hurry to do the report. Housewarden bathrooms have pretty good hot water too, ya know.”
Showering in Leona Kingscholar’s bathroom…
His face maintains its indifferent expression, but the glint in his eye tells you: he knows he just caught his prey.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Leona was right. The water is really hot. Maybe you’d enjoy it more if you weren’t so focused on preventing your pounding heart from bursting out of your ribcage.
You are in Leona’s shower. Leona Kingscholar’s shower. You’re in his shower, washing your hair with his shampoo, scrubbing your flesh with his body wash… It almost feels like he's claiming you.
In a sense he already has. Loathe you are to admit it, your heart has already belonged to Leona for a long time. You close your eyes and tilt your face upwards, as though you hope the hot water against your face will melt away these ludicrous feelings.
That’s exactly what they are. Ludicrous. You’ve long accepted the fact that Leona would never settle for someone like you. For all you know, he might already be betrothed to a person of his family’s choosing. Perhaps a master potionologist, or maybe a spelldrive player with worlds of potential.
Even if he wasn’t a prince, he would still be deserving of someone better than you. Someone stronger. Smarter. Funnier. Better.
There is simply no space for you in his sky.
The sooner you get rid of this foolish crush, the better.
Right now, though, you indulge your fantasies by thumbing at his towel, which is hanging beside the clean one he gave you. Side by side like that, they make this bathroom seem like a shared domestic space for the two of you. The thought alone makes your heart prance.
How absurd.
You hurriedly dry off before changing into the clothes he lent you. It’s the same set as last time. Your face scrunches in concentration as you magically resize the pants, but you leave the shirt as it is. It feels more like him this way. Like you are being held by him. Like you belong to him.
You do. Every single part of you belongs to him.
The three golden hair ties on the bathroom counter glimmer at you mockingly, as though to say, “This is the only part of him that will ever belong to you.”
You roughly tug all three back onto your wrist, branding yourself with Leona. You can’t stay here wallowing forever. He was nice enough to let you clean up first, but you know his patience is finite.
Leona is seated in an armchair by the window. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed. His legs are, as usual, spread wide open. He is so serene that you might have thought he was asleep were it not for the jar in his hands. He toys mindlessly with it, rolling it between his large palms.
“Finally done?” He cracks open his eyes. “Surprised you didn’t scald your skin off..”
“Do you always sit with one knee in the Shaftlands and the other in the Queendom of Roses?”
He snorts before standing and sauntering over to you. “Not shrinking the shirt?”
“It’s comfy loose.” He only hums in response. “By the way… you changed my clothes pretty easily earlier. Why didn’t you do that the other night?”
“Crewel told me not to. Somethin’ about too much magic workin’ on your body at once not being good for you. Plus…” A fang peeks out at you as he steps closer to you. “With the state you were in, I didn’t know how you’d react if you woke up in some guy’s clothes. Didn’t want you gettin’ the wrong idea.”
You can’t stop your face from heating up. You try your best to change the topic. “Where are the lab books? I’ll head them up while you shower.”
“You’ll do more than that,” he states, handing you the jar. “Work on your flames while you do it.”
“I…” You stare at the jar in your hands as though you’re afraid it might bite you. “I’m not sure I can do that yet.”
“Pretend you’re flying.”
“Huh?”
Leona crosses arms with a sigh. “You are not dense, and your magic is not unstable. You just think too damn much.
“I watched you today. You can channel into a broom just fine, even when you’re having conversations or drinkin’ water. So just channel into the fire while you write. It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not the same thing, Leona—”
“It is,” he interrupts. “Quit overthinkin’ it. If you want a bigger flame, imagine you’re climbin’ the sky. Want it smaller? Descend. Want it out? Land your broom. It’s the same shit. It’s not difficult, you just need to trust yourself.”
“Easy for you to say,” you mutter.
“Most things are. Now get to work.”
With that, he disappears into his bathroom, leaving you alone in his room. You roll the jar around in your hands just as you had seen him do. You take a deep breath.
Too much magic will shatter the glass. Too little will snuff the flame.
Leona wasn’t wrong. Having your broom in your mind’s eye makes controlling the flame a lot easier. You take a few moments to establish a rhythm of bigger, then smaller, then bigger again.
Up and down and up and down. Once you got used to it, you closed your eyes. Don’t think too hard, just fly.
You eventually settle into the chair Leona just vacated. You place the lab books on your lap and the jar on the arm of the chair. Two tasks at once. You’ve headed up so many lab books that it no longer requires concentration. You try to remind yourself that writing while wielding is just like chatting while flying.
You’re almost done with the books when a “Leona, I’m back!” sounds from down the hall. Before you can rise from your seat, Ruggie enters without knocking, carrying a large paper bag. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until you smelled the savoury aroma wafting into the room. He stops in his tracks. “Ah! You’re here.”
“Hey,” you greet. “Leona’s still in the shower.”
He makes his way over to the dresser with a hum. “I’ll just leave his dinner over here then.” He mutters something about the messy dresser and a lost uniform button under his breath. He busies himself with hastily tidying up the area. It’s quiet for a while before briefly pauses his work to peer into the bag, eyebrows slightly raised. “Ya know, I thought it was weird that the extra sandwich he ordered had vegetables in it. Guess that’s for you.”
“For me?” And Leona was the one to order it for you?
“Why do you sound so surprised? You’re filling the guy’s lab book. The least he can do is feed you.” He spares you a quick glance over his shoulder. “He’s not a stingy employer, ya know. I eat on his dime everyday.”
Your gaze narrows. “He’s not my employer.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Employees don’t make a habit outta wearin’ their bosses’ clothes. What are you, then?” He snickers at the expression on your heating face as you search for another topic.
“I hope you didn’t miss practice just to run errands for him.” You join him at the dresser, watching as he sews a button back onto Leona’s jacket. You hold the jar of flames a little above his hands so he can see his project a little better. “I’d be really pissed at him if you did, even if he fed you.”
“Relax,” he laughs. “Jack and I took the afternoon off to handle something down at the port. He didn’t go to his club’s practice either. Hey…” he pauses to examine the jar in your hand for a moment. “Thanks for the light, but… why do you have that?”
“Leona’s helping me with my magic. I have to keep resizing this flame until I develop a magical muscle memory.”
“Since when does he go out of his way to play tutor?”
You huff. “No clue. He’s being really prickly about it too. I don’t know how you deal with someone so bossy.”
“Hah!” He finishes his work on the button and bites through the thread. “That’s Leona. Guess he’s demanding even when he’s tryna be nice to his girlfriend.”
You barely manage to prevent your jar from exploding again. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you hiss. “I’m not his girlfriend.”
“Oh?”
“You better not let anyone hear you say that. What would people think?”
“What would people think?”
They'd think the blot made him lose his fucking mind. You can’t say that out loud.
Ruggie’s dramatic sigh fills the silence that stretches between you. “Listen, I don’t really care what your relationship is, as long as you come ‘round more often. You don’t seem too bad. Maybe you’ll be a good influence on his lazy ass.”
The bathroom door creaks open before you can respond. Leona glares daggers at the two of you. You wonder how much of that he heard. You would probably be a little scared if you weren’t busy ogling him. He’s shirtless.
“You’re yippin’ a lot today, Ruggie,” he grumbles, using a towel to soak up the water in his hair.
“And maybe you oughta listen for once.” Ruggie puts his hands on his hips. “I’m glad the prefect is getting you to actually do your homework, but you better pull your weight. If you make her do everything, she’ll get sick of you real fast.” With that, he heads towards the door. “Your food’s here, so I’m heading to bed,” he calls over his shoulder. “Don’t stay up all night and end up skipping tomorrow.”
The door clicks softly and you are suddenly alone with Leona.
“He cares about you.”
“He cares about staying fed,” he responds as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“No,” you argue. “He cares about you. And you care about him too.”
“I don’t. Now stop saying weird shit. We have to get this over with so you can get out of my damn hair.”
“I need to snuff this before we start,” you say, nodding to the magic jar of flames.
“Why?”
“Because if I lose control of it when I drink that gross stuff, I’ll end up incinerating your room and your beloved bed.” By the time your tiny fire is out, he’s tugged on a beige long-sleeved shirt, similar in style to the one you’re wearing.
His tail takes up a lazy motion as he moves around his room. He hangs the damp towel on a hook, then grabs the bag of food and all but flings himself onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh. “Get the potion and c’mere.”
You waste no time in following his instructions. You want to get this over with as quickly as possible. You’ve already inserted yourself into so much of his space and taken up so much of his time. It’s best not to push your luck. You stand at the foot of his bed with his textbook and your two lab books stacked, the glimmering potion resting on top of them.
He sits cross-legged and pulls two sandwiches out of the bag, looking at you expectantly. You stare back at him.
“Why’re you just standin’ around? Get down here.”
“On the bed?” You look at him like he’s insane.
“Got a problem with my bed?”
“No! I just… Are you sure it’s alright?”
“Don’t make me scruff you and bring you here myself, kitten.”
“Alright, alright!” You sit on the edge of the bed, hesitantly at first. He simply keeps eying you, clearly dissatisfied, until you eventually scoot closer, crossing your legs to mirror him. Your two pairs of knees are almost touching.
He looks down at the pile on your lap. “Why’d you bring that back here?” he asks, tapping the spine of his textbook with his index finger.
“To return it?” You give him an incredulous look. “It’s yours.”
“I mastered everything in there already. I got no use for it.”
“Don’t you want to keep it in your family?”
He scoffs as though it’s the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard. “You really take me for some kinda sentimental family man? Just keep it.” He hands you one of the sandwiches.
“How did you know I like this one?” you query.
“Since you’re so damn good at interrogations, you’ll come up with the questions for the testin’.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Just leanin’ into your strengths,” he says, grinning at you with a mouth full of Sam’s Deluxe Meat sandwich.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Actually drinking the potion is always the most frightening step.
The first step didn’t take long. You just had to come up with a set of questions with answers that can easily be proven. When’s your birthday? Do you have siblings? Is the headmage’s first name Dire? What time is it right now? Are you currently a student at Night Raven College? Can you name all the housewardens? So on and so forth…
The next step was equally simple: lie to each other with a combination of one-worded responses and longer explanations. You choose a random date for your fake birthday. Leona tells you he is the third of four siblings. You say the headmage’s name is Leona. (This earns you a scoff and an eyeroll.) He calls a random time without looking at the clock. You claim to be studying at Noble Bell.
Now though…
“Maybe we should continue tomorrow, Leona.”
“Just drink the potion, scaredy cat.”
You stare at the pink liquid. It shimmers as though it’s staring right back at you. You really, really, do not want to drink it.
It will most definitely taste awful, and it will probably stew your brain for a second, but that’s not what frightens you. What if it fails? Or worse, what if it works too well, like the last one. What if it forces you to say something you’ll regret?
Leona plucks the flask out of your hand, tearing you from your thoughts. “You bugged me to do this and now you’re the one hesitating? You never know what you really want, huh?” He throws his head back and downs half of the potion.
Exactly half. Is there anything this guy isn’t good at?
He grimaces as though he just sucked on a lemon. His nose scrunches and he shakes his head, a motion that is so cat-like that you half-expect him to meow. He hands you the reminder of it. “Your turn.”
Your anxiety spikes. “Surely only one of us has to test it, right? Plus, it’d be awful if something were to go wrong and we both ended up—”
“Do I need to force-feed you again?”
“No!”
You do your best to steel your nerves, pinch your nose and toss the concoction back, immediately grateful that half of your sandwich is still there for you. It doesn’t do enough to kill the taste.
For a moment, you and Leona just sit there.
Then it crashes into you.
You force your gaze down to the now empty bottle; looking anywhere else makes your head spin.
Neither of you says anything, but the room is suddenly so loud. The crickets outside suddenly sound like they’re inside your ears. The lights seem to be buzzing. You can hear Leona breathing. You can smell him too.
Your pulse pounds at the base of your throat, and little shocks of electricity dance through your veins, spreading to every inch of your body and making you buzz.
You can hear and smell and feel so much, too much. Your cheeks feel wet. Are you… crying? You swipe at your face but your palm comes back dry.
Wait. Did it even connect? You didn’t feel it. Try again.
A breeze passes through the room and pulls you back to reality, back to Leona’s bed.
You take a few shaky breaths before you look up at Leona. His corners of his lips are pulled downwards, and his ears…
Do his ears always twitch like that?
“Come back to me.”
“Huh?” You lock eyes with him, swiping at your cheek again. Still dry. You just imagined it.
“Are you back?” Leona’s grip tightens around your knee and shakes it gently. When did he start touching you? “You spaced out.”
His tail lashes back and forth wildly behind him as though it has a mind of its own. Is he… worried?
“I’m okay now.” Your throat feels dry and raw. “I’m just a little sensitive to these things.”
“Does that always happen?”
“Not always. Usually only the ones that mess with your brain, and it only lasts a few seconds. Do you have water?”
Leona wordlessly stretches over to his nightstand, yanking the drawer open to reveal several bottles of water. He grabs two before letting his magic flow from his fingers to cool them. The two of you sip as you silently watch his tail flick back and forth hypnotically. Your curiosity gets the best of you.
“Is the potion messing with your ears and tail?”
“Yeah.” He traps his tail under his thigh, using his weight to keep it in check. “Bugs all the beastmen. You feelin’ good enough to start?”
“Yeah.” You drain the remainder of your water and put the bottle on the floor, along with the empty flask. “Shoot.”
“When’s your birthday?” he begins.
The truth flies out of your mouth before you can even consider lying. “Guess it works. Do you have any siblings?”
“Yes.” He pauses for a few moments. “ ‘s not forcin’ me to elaborate. Is the headmage’s first name Dire?”
You try to say “His first name is not Ashton,” which is technically the truth, but the potion is not satisfied with this. “It is.” You hum in contemplation and jotting down a quick note.
“I want to try something, Leona. Don’t look at the clock. What time is it right now?”
“I don’t know. Can’t tell the truth if I don’t know it.”
“Can you estimate?”
“I could if I wanted to.” Then nothing.
“Estimate.”
“No.”
“Don’t estimate.”
“Eight thirty.”
You glance at the clock on the wall behind Leona. Eight forty-seven. “Not bad, you stubborn ass.” You quickly jot down a few notes into your lab book. “It doesn’t force you to follow any orders and you don’t have to explain anything as long as you answer the question that was asked. Can I try something else? You're allowed to say no.”
He offers you a look of intrigue. “You can.”
“Tell me what you're thinking about.”
Leona doesn’t respond.
“Can you tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I can. But I won’t.” Of course.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Your ends are dry and your roots are a little puffy. You should use oil.”
“Rude.”
“You’re the one who forced me to say it!”
“And I’m glad I did,” you huff. “The potion’s working exactly as intended. Let’s hurry up and get this over with.”
The rest of the questions pass without issue, and before you know it, you're lying on your tummies side by side, quietly filling the pages of your lab books.
You suddenly remember something. “Shit. We forgot to start a timer so we can see how long the effects last.”
“We didn’t. I started it just before you started trippin’ balls.” He shows you the screen of his phone. Sure enough, a timer is running: 00:37:15.
“Do you think Idia’s family makes a tonne of these potions?”
“I don’t know what that radish sprout and his freaky family get up to. Don’t wanna know either.”
You laugh a little and glance over at him. You are about to playfully scold him for not having written much when you notice that his pupils are blown wide, locked onto the magestone of your pen. You give it a few experimental flicks. Sure enough, his eyes follow every movement and his tail thrashes excitedly behind him. You can’t help but tease him. “Aww, who’s a good kitty?”
Leona jolts, seemingly only now realising what he has been doing. “Shut up,” he growls, wrapping his tail around his leg to keep it still.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell— ow!” You drop your pen. Three of Leona’s fingers press down on your wrist to soothe the spot he just stung by pulling on the hair tie (his hair tie). “The fuck was that for?”
“I couldn’t help it.” His ears flatten against his head. “That must have hurt. I forgot how strong these are. Sorry.”
“If not for the circumstances, I might not have believed that.”
He continues rubbing small circles on your wrist, and you don’t pull away. “You like collecting these as bracelets or somethin’?”
A yes escapes your lips despite your attempt to stop it. “They’re really pretty,” you add, telling some of the truth before he can ask why and force all of it out of you. “Where did you get them?”
“They’re made in Sunset Savannah. We get the latex from a special kind of tree that doesn’t grow in this part of Twisted Wonderland. It’s that high quality stuff, so it stretches far without breakin’ or losin’ its shape. ‘S why it snaps back so hard.”
“Must be really expensive,” you note. “Do you want them back?”
“No.” You flinch when his voice suddenly comes at you a little rougher than usual. “I've got more than I can count. What’s with you and tryin’ to return all my gifts? Do you do this to everyone?”
Gifts? “Yes… Are you angry?”
“I’m not.” His voice softens just a tad. “I just don’t get you. You just said that you like them, so why’re you givin’ em back?”
“Because I don’t deserve them.”
For a moment, he just stares at you with an expression that you can’t decipher. His brow creases as he frowns, but this isn’t his usual scowl. “You really believe that’s true.” It’s not a question.
“Maybe we should stop here for tonight, Leona.” You sit upright and try to pull away from him, but his grip on your wrist tightens. “Let go.”
“Don’t leave.”
“Let go, Leona.”
“Stay,” he insists. “Let’s talk.”
“Why?”
“Cuz I like it when you’re here.”
His words bounce around in your head a few times before you manage to make sense of them. When you finally do, you still can’t think of a response. He winces under your blank stare as though the realisation of what he just said physically pains him.
When you break the silence, it is with a sense of finality, with an absolute certitude. “You don’t mean that.”
“How can you say that when you know I can’t lie?” he argues.
“Because someone like you isn’t supposed to like anything about someone like me.” Your final attempt at yanking yourself from his grip is successful. You crawl backwards to the other end of his bed, burning under his glower.
You seem to have offended him.
“Why? Cuz I’m a prince?”
“Because you’re you!” you blurt out in exasperation. “You’re you and I’m me. You’re not even supposed to acknowledge someone like me, much less enjoy my company.”
“Please, do go on,” he bites out. “Tell me all about what I'm supposedto do. I really don’t get you, (y/n).”
“And I don’t get you. Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?”
“The same reason you’ve been following me around school like a cub without a pride, all year long, thinkin’ I don’t know you’re there.”
Yeah right. “I am not a prideless cub. And what do you mean, ‘the same reason?’ You don’t even know why I did that. For all you know, Rook could have taken me under his wing.”
He doesn’t smirk at your joke. His ears swivel, but his serious gaze is fixed on you. “I know the truth.”
That’s not true. That can’t be true. Perhaps he believes it’s true, but it isn’t. Even if he really knew, he wouldn’t be able to lie and say that he likes you too. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. “You don’t,” you insist, more to yourself than to him.
“You told me in the infirmary.”
Mortification swallows you whole. “But you said—”
“I lied.”
You blank. For a moment, there’s nothing.
Then there’s too much. Your eyes sting and your vision blurs. He knows.
He knows you have a crush on him. He knows and he just pretends that he doesn’t. He knows and he just lets you keep pretending that you don’t love him. He was probably laughing at you the whole time. He was playing with you.
He was amusing himself at your expense.
“Y/n.” He reaches for you, but flinches when you pull away. “You’re… crying?”
“I suppose I am.” You try to keep your voice steady, try to appear strong. You fail miserably, though, mentally cursing the burning tears that keep escaping no matter how hard you try to imprison them behind your lashline. “People tend to do that when you play with their feelings.”
“I wasn’t playing with your—”
“Then what were you doing?!” you snap. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why did you play this game of pretend?”
“I was waitin’ for ya to work up the courage to tell me on your own and actually remember it.” He says it as though it’s the most obvious thing in Twisted Wonderland.
“Why? So you can laugh at me out loud instead of in your head?”
“So I can tell you that I love you too!”
The flames nipping at your head and making you feel faint doesn’t die down, but a dull ache blooms beneath your ribs. You feel like both your brain and your throbbing heart are about to explode. It's just a matter of which goes boom first. “Leona, you don’t—”
“I do (y/n). I’ve been telling you and you don’t hear it. I’ve been showing you and you don’t see it.” He drags a large palm across his face with an exhausted sigh, ears flat against his scalp. “Even now, when I literally have no choice but to be truthful… is it really so hard to believe me?”
“It is.” Your cracked voice is barely audible.
He reaches for you. “C’mere…”
This time you don’t pull away.
You let him haul you into his lap, back pressed against his chest. One hand reaches around to thumb at stray tears on your cheek, but the other simply holds you there, just like the first time he held you outside the lab a few days ago. He rests his chin on your shoulder and presses his cheek against your face and neck, nuzzling you more gently than you thought he would.
For a while, you just sit there. The only noise in the room is the steady thump thump thump of Leona’s rebellious tail tapping the mattress.
“Wish you could see what I see,” he finally murmurs into the side of your throat.
“What do you see?”
“Someone really fucking hot when they straddle a broom.” He stiffens before groaning in embarrassment. “Shit. Sorry. Wasn’t s’posed to say that out loud just yet.”
This pulls a giggle from your lips.
“You are insanely pretty. But you’re kind. Funny. Strong.”
“I’m not strong.”
“You are,” he insists. “Might not get everything right the first time. Or anything, actually…”
“Not helping me feel better.”
He huffs into your flesh before continuing. “You’re diligent, though. Even if it takes a little push sometimes, you get back up. You got no clue how good it feels to watch you bounce back. And, fuck, that mouth of yours. Sometimes I wanna argue with you all day just to hear what you’ll come up with. Just to hear your voice…”
The thumping stops. His tail comes around to latch onto your thigh. His arms tighten around you. “Tell me what to say and I’ll say it. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to get it in your lil head that I love you.”
“I love you, Leona.”
“I know, kitten. But you gotta let me love you too. Gotta quit pushin’ me away…”
You shift in his lap, looking at him over your shoulder. “I’ll try but… these things take time, Leona.”
“Good thing I’m a patient guy,” he responds. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’m in no rush.”
“Are you—”
“I’m sure.”
“Very, well then.” You turn around fully to face him with a small smile. “I’ll do my best. Now let’s get the rest of this assignment out of the way.”
Leona’s sigh is almost pained. “Thought you finally forgot about that.”
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Savanaclaw is fucking freezing in the wee hours of the morning. Good thing Leona has a fancy comforter.
The first rays of sunshine bounce off the shimmering elastics that circle your wrist, ordering you to rise. You roll onto your side to look for Leona. He’s still sprawled on his chair, where he had insisted he’d be fine for the night. “What’re you reading?” you question with a breathy and hoarse voice.
“It’s about trade routes,” he responds, voice equally raspy. He locks eyes with yours. “Found it in a thrift shop a while back. I can lend it to you, if you want.”
“Leona, did you sleep?”
“I’m about to.”
“But we have class.”
“Relax,” he drawls. “We don’t have Potions til this afternoon.”
You slowly sit up, pulling the heavy comforter further up your body. “What about History and Astrology? Are you really going to cut class?”
“Probably.” He closes the book and places it on the ground. “Unless Ruggie starts badgerin’ me.”
“Maybe I should call him right now then.”
“I’m rethinking my decision to keep you here…” Leona stretches with a loud yawn, the hem of his shirt riding up slightly. “Still got a couple hours til the first bell. I can get in a quick nap.”
You sigh and lie back down, knowing there’s no use in arguing. “Well hurry up and come to bed so you can make the most of it.”
Leona makes no move to stand from the chair. “You sure you want me in there with you?”
“I might freeze to death otherwise,” you quip.
The next thing you know, the mattress is sinking under his weight as he climbs under the sheets with you, mumbling out a quiet, “C’mere.”
“That didn’t take much convincing,” you joke as he pulls you closer to him, pressing his chest against your back. “Were you itching to snuggle, kitty?”
“Says the one using me as a heater,” he murmurs into your shoulder. His breath is warm and the vibrations of his groggy voice dance across your flesh. “Go back to sleep. You’ll need the rest.”
“What for?”
“There’s no practice for the boys today. I want you to fly with me.”
original request
jade leech x gn!reader
[tags] – fluff, suggestive
[cw] - a tad more explicit compared to the last ones
[wc} – 2,875
prompt 18: “Is this normal here?” “Only for the emotionally unavailable folk.” “Ah, so it is.”
note - i think i blacked out and woke up to this. jade is just so, aaaaaa!!!
a floral inconvenience
Teonanácatl mushroom – In Nahuatl, teonanácatl can be translated to “flesh of the gods” and were sometimes used by the Aztecs as a hallucinogen and aphrodisiac.
Despite your best efforts to not say anything, to not complain, to not even give a hint of what was bothering you, it was obvious to everyone that you had the hanahaki.
It was even more obvious who for, considering you were sprouting up bell-shaped brown capped mushrooms instead of the traditional flowers.
Of course Jade’s favorite mushroom would be one of the psychedelic ones. Of course, you had to accidentally swallow a piece of one when spitting them out.
You could’ve dealt with that, honestly. Strange visions? Check, you got them leading up to every overblot. Distorted vision? Fine, you know Ace’s messed with your vision once or twice while practicing spells. Even the weird sensations every touch, breeze, and vibration in the air caused were somewhat bearable. The magic that seemed to consume the surrounding air made your skin tingle weirdly, you could deal.
What you couldn’t deal with, was how horny they apparently made you feel. Without fail, depending on how much of the mushrooms you managed to swallow before spitting the majority of them out, five to ten minutes you’d feel the effects.
Paired with the psychedelic effects, it was torture. You were overstimulated and on edge constantly. Even without the weird trips, the mushrooms were apparently a potent aphrodisiac.
It left you squirming as Jade, the current bane of your existence, stared at you from across the flight field.
Thankfully, none had come out from your throat today, so you were present and alert for once this week.
“You know Prefect,” Azul spoke up, sitting next to you as the two of you sat out of flight class. You, due to your condition, and him for falling 10-feet off his broom.
“The flower sickness is quite an easy fix, have you not visited the nurse yet?”
You shook your head, watching Floyd hang upside down on his broom, screeching as Jack and Silver attempted to ease him into a soft landing. You snorted as the foot that was hooking him to the broom slipped, making him fall on top of Jack.
“Nah, it’s fine, I don’t think she could deal with the constant lucid trips, last I went she just told me to get this potion for my symptoms, but they’re all flower based!”
Azul raised a brow as he watched you lay on the grass and stretch your limbs until you resembled something of like a starfish.
You groaned, “They all account for like petals, thorns, or pollen messing with your immune system, but not for fungus and spores… I need to just straight up get rid of them.”
“May I offer some advice—”
“For your prices? No the fuck you may not—”
“—as a mutual friend between you and Jade?” You shut your mouth at the mention of the teal-haired man while Azul continued. “The best and quickest fix is to just tell him your true feelings. It’s the one true, guaranteed cure to your sickness.”
“You say that like you're familiar with it.” If you noticed the tips of Azul’s ears turn purple, you didn’t say anything. “Is it really that normal here?”
Azul scoffed, giving you a wry smile. “It’s only for the emotionally unavailable sort of folk.”
“Ah, so at this school, it most definitely is.”
The two of you chuckled while Floyd stomped over to your resting spot, visibly limping.
“Maaaaaan this sucks!” The twin threw himself over Azul, who buckled to the ground under Floyd’s weight.
“Ow! Floyd!”
“Coach Lobster says I sprained my ankle and can’t go to basketball club later!” Floyd whined, wrapping his lanky body around Azul, who was less than amused.
“I’ll be stuck at the dorm, I don’t wanna deal with a whiny Jade!”
He turned his attention to you, sneering. “Hey Shrimpy! Go fix whatever ya did to make Jade upset! He’s been acting like a lovesick brat since ya stopped talkin’ to him, it’s gettin’ real old.”
You scoffed, “I didn’t do anything! And why’s everyone acting like we’re a couple? We’re just friends, sometimes friends don’t talk for a bit!”
“Friends?!” Azul hissed, eye twitching as he gave you an incredulous look. “Some ‘friends’ you are. Based on the sounds I hear coming out of his room late at night, I highly doubt that.”
“We’re friends with benefits!” you cried out, looking behind you to see if anyone noticed or heard your outburst. As you did, Azul and Floyd shared a confused look.
“Friends with…benefits?” Azul asked.
Floyd nodded, also questioning your words. “What’s that?”
Despite your best efforts to explain the concept, the two couldn’t comprehend the idea of casual intimacy with an acquaintance or friend. Apparently it was a strictly human concept, as Floyd put it: “Why’d you wanna do that with someone other than a mate? Merfolk aren’t built like that!”
You left class with more questions than answers. Questions you probably could’ve had answered if you spoke with Jade. It didn’t help that Azul and Floyd kept giving you concerned looks as they quietly spoke with Jade, who kept glancing at you with a neutral expression.
Mostly neutral, his brows were furrowed as he spoke with his brother and friend.
Oh well, a little mystery never hurt no one!
Stomping over to the Mostro Lounge, you kept looking over your shoulder for Jade. Even with everything Azul and Floyd said, you weren’t mentally prepared for a conversation with him.
You’re sure that when Azul asked you to come to his V.I.P. Room, it was for some ruse to get you and Jade together. But he also mentioned you taking up extra shifts at the bar, and you were always in need of a little extra cash.
However, that would be more interaction with Jade, and you’d rather deal with another bad shroom trip than confront any of your feelings for him. But…money.
“Hey! You!” You tapped the shoulder of one of the lounge employees, who recognized and greeted you with a smile.
“Ah! Prefect!” The purple-haired man smiled. “Azul said he was expecting you! Go right ahead to his office.”
“Thanks!” Walking through the lounge into the hallway leading to the private rooms and Azul’s office, the eerie silence was unsettling.
Usually there’d be at least a few employees walking around, either serving food to one of the reservable rooms or checking in with their housewarden. Even passing the employee lounge made you uneasy, as no one was there despite the lack of dinner rush.
You did make it to Azul’s office with little issue, knocking on the door as you announced, “I’m ‘ere, Azul! Can I come in?
You received no answer. Apprehensively you opened the door, surprised to find it empty. Entering and closing the door behind you, you decided to be nosy and look at what Azul had on his desk while you waited.
He was probably here recently, based on the cup of tea on his desk. The door opened up behind you, so you turned to greet Azul with a wave and smile before freezing.
Really, you should’ve known better than to trust Azul to mind his own business. You curled in on yourself as Jade entered the office, a pleasant smile on his lips he locked the door behind him.
You decided that nonchalant and cool was the best approach in this situation.
You greeted Jade in a polite, monotone voice. “Leech.”
“My, my, Prefect. So cold.” Jade gave you a sad look as he pursed his lips. “We haven’t spoken since our trip two weeks ago, was my company so terrible that it warrants your avoidance?”
His tall frame towered over you as he stalked closer and closer, forcing you backwards until your back hit the desk. You could hear the tea cup and saucer clink as you did. Jade placed his hands on either side of your hips, effectively trapping you against Azul’s desk.
“W-well, I’ve been busy—
“Why, I’ve been absolutely beside myself! We had such a wonderful time camping out those two evenings that I'm left wondering if I did something wrong.”
Jade softly spoke, a mischievous gleam in his gold eye as he leaned down to coo in your ear, “Especially since you, oh, so enjoyed my tongue in your—”
You decided that nonchalant and cool was actually not the best approach, based on the numerous mushrooms popping up from your skin and in your mouth.
Jade whipped his head back, rubbing his chin from where the mushroom smacked into him while popping up at the crook between your chin and neck.
He grinned as more and more bell-capped mushrooms sprouted down your exposed arms and neck, even along your head as they fashioned into a mushroom crown.
You froze, then started hacking as too many mushrooms filled and fell out of your mouth, though you could feel yourself swallow some on instinct. “Shitshitshit, I ate some, oooooh fuck me—”
“I did two weeks ago, you seemed to enjoy it—”
“Shut up! You know that's not what I meant!” You groaned, rubbing your face as Jade leaned back in to place his hands on your hips, rubbing small circles.
“Heh-heh, I know. You must forgive me my dear, you are entirely too easy to rile up.” He grabbed your hands so that Jade could make eye contact with you, smiling a bit softer at your red face.
“It’s your fault you know!” You huffed, frowning (or pouting in Jade’s vision) up at him. “You and your stupid mushrooms…”
“Oh? I beg to differ.” You yelped as Jade lifted you like a rag doll and sat you on the desk. At this angle, Jade didn’t need to strain his neck as much to lean down.
“I’d argue that this entirely your own doing. After all, nothing was preventing you from speaking to me other than your own ego.”
“That’s not—” you angrily huffed, half-heartedly shoving Jade. “That’s NOT it and you know it.”
The eel mer frowned, a rare annoyed expression on his features. He took a deep breath, reaching for your hands to softly and tenderly draw circles into your palm. Jade tended to do this when his mind was full of thoughts, tracing random shapes into your skin.
He was especially fond of doing so after your late night meet ups: bare bodies flush against one another in an afterglow as he lulled you to sleep with sweet words, tracing out his name and hearts against your back.
If you thought too much into it, sometimes you think he was tracing your first name with his last, usually done after a particularly rough night.
You didn’t want to think too much into it though, all those nights. Jade was simply indulging your soft heart.
“I don’t, actually. Can you imagine my ire when my beloved partner not only started sprouting psilocybe mexicana, but it was from hanahaki. Do you know the implications of that to me?”
“Look, I’m sorry that I’m sooooo emotional and am ruining your ‘cool’ and ‘intimidating’ reputation!” You cried out, pushing his hands off of yours to cross them, looking to the side.
“I didn’t mean for my feelings to get so out of control. The first rule to being friends-with-benefits is to not catch feelings, and I broke it.”
You shrugged as you continued.
“I had them before, but I thought that if we just got involved casually, I’d get over them eventually…it’s not my fault you talk and act so sappy…like you want me to fall more in love or something…”
Jade was silent, which in itself wasn’t unusual for him. What was, was the troubled, nearly distraught look on his face. You’d be annoyed at how pretty he still was if the expression didn’t freak you out.
“Most likely because I was under the impression that we were courting. You are aware that I have been addressing you as my mate for several months now, yes?”
Time froze, though it might have been the effects of the mushrooms starting to hit. Or a combination of the shrooms and your brain trying to process the words that just left Jade’s mouth.
Mate. Floyd called you his brother’s mate. He’s actually been calling you his mate.
“What?” You squeaked out, voice meek and tiny. “Mate? Like, your partner-type mate? Like, this is the person I’m marrying-type mate?”
Jade let out a chuckle, cutting the distance between you until his face was right up to yours.
Startled, you grasped on the lapels of his uniform, trying to steady yourself as you leaned back. Jade’s arms were splayed on the table as he once again trapped you against the desk.
Though this time, intentionally you’re sure, he settled himself between your legs as you, subconsciously mind you, loosely wrapped your legs around his hips.
Jade smirked as he watched you cough out another handful of mushrooms, though he was disappointed to see none were bitten this time around.
“Allow me to, how do you humans say? Ah, yes, open your eyes to the situation.”
Jade grabbed your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with his stern gaze. “I do not involve myself with other people to such an…intimate extent casually, especially as a merperson.”
“This thing you call ‘friends with benefits’? As a concept it’s entirely human. Merfolk? If we see something, if we like it, then we make it ours and you?”
Jade chuckled, leaning down and taking your earlobe into his sharp teeth.
“Little human~” he purred. “I made you mine the moment we blessed my bed with your sweet cries.”
You shivered from the points of his teeth as he tugged, sighing as he let go, up until his lips met your pulse point at the crook of your neck, suckling down. You could feel his pleased hum vibrate through your spine as you mewled in response.
Heat pooled in your belly while your skin felt like it was simultaneously on fire and freezing, though you couldn’t be sure if it was the effects of the mushroom or Jade.
“J-Jade, stooOOoOop i-it,” despite your protests, you tilted your head to offer the rest of you like a present, little gasps escaping your lips as his lips trailed down, following the mushrooms that adorned your clavicle.
“What if Azul o-or your—o-ooh fuck—or your brother walk in?”
Jade leaned back with a closed mouth smile, admiring the red marks adorning your neck.
“Let them, so that every time you forget what you are and what you mean to me, the image of my mate bent over this desk is burned through their heads, so that it implores them to remind you of what you are.”
Pushing you until you laid flat on your back, Jade hovered over you with a grin and beheld your flushed face.
You slid your hands from his chest to loop around his neck, bringing Jade down to meet your lips before he stopped.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, eyes widening as he stuck his tongue out to reveal a singular mushroom. He must have hidden it under his tongue after swiping it from your neck earlier.
“Wait, Jade!” You gasped as he bit and swallowed the fungus. “It’s a psychedelic—”
“And an aphrodisiac, I’m aware.” He hummed, a pleased look on his face.
“Land flora is so fascinating, I’d hoped to introduce this one to you over the summer, to experience it together, back home in a nice, private little grotto.”
Jade pressed his lips to yours, surprisingly gently, as you returned it with a growing intensity. His right hand reached up between your embrace to undo the buttons of your shirt.
“Oh well, I suppose we can share an experience here. Isn’t the thought of someone walking in exhilarating?”
Once your shirt was open, and your chest exposed, Jade took the tips of his fingers between his teeth and yanked his pristine white glove off. He trailed his exposed hand, starting with a squeeze at the base of your neck, and slowly gliding down.
His pupils were slowly blowing out as the effects of the mushroom started to take hold, his breath increasing as you grew more and more needy from the aphrodisiac.
“Jade, please~” you tried again to yank him down for another kiss, this time succeeding as your lips clashed against one another.
“Jade…I need…”
“Shhh. I got you.” Jaed cooed, hips grounding against yours as your kiss intensified. “I got you Y/N, my little human, my pearl, my mate—”
“Hey Jade, are you two almost done talking, I’d like my office back—ACK!” Azul shrieked at the sight of you two over his desk, Floyd popping his head out from around the now open door.
“Hmm? Ewwwww!” Floyd made gagging sounds as you quickly redressed yourself, Jade looking amused at the situation.
“You’re supposed to talk it out, not get it on! Go somewhere else! It’s bad enough that I can hear you through the walls, you’re like three rooms down from mine!”
Jade let out a chuckle, wrapping his hand around your waist once you were up and buttoned up.
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to bother you. Come, my pearl.” You were dragged out of the room, wincing at the other two with an apologetic look.
You apparent ‘mate’ was guiding you to the exit of the lounge, to the direction of the pools.
As he leaned down to whisper into your ear, you could feel his grip tighten on your hip, causing a pleasurable buzz to crawl up your body, your lucid high growing stronger.
“Why don’t we see how my merform handles the mushrooms, and then see how you can handle me, hmm?”
titsay
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
izzy806
kianamaiart
stormborns
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
