There are moments, you’ve come to realize, when Kaku seems to drop some kind of mask around you.
It’s a subtle thing—an animal’s glint in his eye, that boy-next-door grin going sharp, his hold a little more clawed. Nothing dangerous, you think, but enough to give you a thrill that has you hungering for more, and you can only hope your hunger matches his own.
Times like these reassure you that it does. It must, when he has you by the wrist in some thin alleyway; when his thumb presses against the thin skin over your pulsepoint, and you can feel how his fingers twitch to grab you firmer, though you can’t see his face with how his head is angled.
He shifts his hold on your wrist, callused digits curling around it, and with a sturdy tug you’re stumbling in even closer with wide eyes.
“Your pulse is racing,” he says, all too chipper for how flushed you feel. Finally he lifts his head, and you can meet his eye from beneath the brim of his cap—despite his tone, his pupils are blown wide with something heavy, deep and dark as they regard you. “Do I make you that nervous?”
You shake your head; and it’s not a lie, not really. Nervous isn’t quite what you feel as he draws closer, but your heart pounds all the more rapidly within your chest nonetheless, each beat coursing through your veins to throb against the firm pad of his thumb.
Kaku dips his head. Your breath hitches.
His lips are soft. They brush butterfly-light against your jugular, hovering there just close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your neck. They draw a sharp inhale through your teeth as you stiffen—as his free hand finds the small of your back and the tips of his fingers press against your spine, making you arch into his sturdy form. Now he laughs, a breathy chuckle against you, pressing something heavier to your fluttering pulsepoint.
“Getting faster,” he murmurs. "I wonder..."
Before the word has even finished you feel his lips part. His tongue is warm and wet, slow as it drags up the line of your carotid—it takes a moment to register, but when it does you lurch back with a squeak, only drawing out more boyish laughter as Kaku follows you with fervent speed. Your back slams into the wall behind you, cushioned by his sprawled hand still resting at your lumbar, and his tongue finds your neck again.
On instinct your head falls back, baring yourself to him, and he takes great advantage of the opportunity. It draws a whimpering sound from your lips when his tongue flutters against you, which he responds to with a light hum—and then, with no warning, he sinks his canines there.
Perhaps, you think as your knees buckle and he catches you smoothly, his hunger far exceeds your own.
All of the objects you'd realised, left your house. You can't blame them for that, even if it hurts. Now that they have the opportunity and ability to spread their wings, who would you be to clip them?
All of the objects you'd realised, left your house. All except for Harper.
Notes: Fem Reader with a vagina, dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, biting/marking, possessive behaviour. Girls with mental health issues <3
===
Most of the objects you'd realised had been eager to leave. While it'd been the tiniest bit hurtful, really, you understand that most people don't want to be confined to a house. They have never seen anything of the outside world, of course they'd be excited to dive in. You can't, and shouldn't, expect everyone to become a shut-in like you. It's a gradual process. You realise them, bit by bit, say goodbye and stay in regular touch. Some of them come to visit quite regularly. So far, all of them have moved out.
It's been a gradual progress, a slow emptying of your house. A learning process for everyone involved. You've developed a whole routine alongside a, rather long, presentation centred around 'how to keep a human body alive and not get arrested (please don't get arrested you legally don't exist)'. You've had to make a lot of amendments and extra slides. Everyone had taken your words, mostly, to heart and left to a new future.
Except for your 'good friend' Harper.
It's not as if you hadn't expected her to be a bit more difficult than the average object, at the very least. In the end, you'd put her off until she was saved until last. A fact she had seemed to be quite pleased with.
You give her the presentation, as you've done with so many others. The words are practically burned into your brain at this point. Harper looks attentive. She smiles, nods along, hums at the right moments and asks the occasional question. It's going a lot better than expected.
"Do you have any comments or questions?" You say as your final rehearsed line. "I know it's probably a lot to take in… I just know it helped some of the others with adjusting."
Harper smiles sweetly at you. "It won't be a problem. I'll have you to help me every step of the way, right?"
"…Yeah! I mean, my door will always be open for you. It's okay if not everything goes right at first— You know some of the others had to go back to crashing here for a while."
"Don't be silly! You're such a funny girl." She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, leaning forward. "Who ever said I was leaving?"
You inhale sharply, shoulders stiffening. How are you ever going to navigate yourself through this minefield? You don't hate Harper by any means, but her presence is… Overwhelming to you, in more ways than one. She's never made it a secret that she's interested in being something other than friends. Somehow, you've always managed to dance around the subject with vague answers. In this situation, that won't be an option.
"You'll stay here, with me? …Is that really what you want?" Harper's expression shifts, a crease forming in between her brow.
"What? You don't want me here?" She laughs without humour. "Is that what you mean? Please. Do tell me what you mean."
"That's, that's never what I said!" You quickly move to clarify. Rubbing your hands together in front of your body, you lower your gaze. "Look, I— If you really want to stay, I'm not kicking you out. I really won't. But… Don't you want to get out there, out of this house? You don't have to be like, I mean, you could see new things! More of the world. You could change, Harper, you could—"
"I see how it is," she interrupts and you fall quiet. She gets louder with every word she speaks. "I think what you're trying to say is: get the FUCK out of here, Harper. Isn't that it? You want me to leave and never look back, so you won't have to bother with a crazy bitch like me ever again!!"
You know Harper a bit better now, through countless interactions. She must've been anticipating this. She's had this conversation many times before, in her brain. It's the only reason she'd flip to anger this quickly. The whole process is a trigger for her. Your throat goes dry and your heart pounds hard, quick, against your ribcage. You open your mouth and no words come out. Harper continues on.
"I know you preferred it when I was just a hamper. When you could use those fancy glasses of yours to come and go as you pleased. You never had to even acknowledge my existence if you didn't feel like it! When you didn't think you could handle someone like me for the day. That's what's been going through your mind all along, hasn't it?"
She gets up from the couch in your living room and, in the blink of an eye, has wrapped herself around you. Her hold is crushing. Fingernails dig into your back, painful despite the layers of fabric separating her from your skin.
"I won't let myself be ignored anymore, now. I won't let you toss me out. You'll just have to deal with it. …Who else is going to be here and spend time with you, anyway? Not any of your lovers, that's for sure. They've all got their fun, free human lives now. They've forgotten all about you." Her grip loosens just a little. The tips of her fingers glide of your shoulder blades.
"Aren't you angry with them? Don't you hate them all, for doing this to you? Or do you like hurting yourself like this?" Your throat is closed up. You can't find it in yourself to answer Harper's questions. "…Well, they're all gone. Except for me."
Her voice has softened, sweetened like honey. "I'll stay. Right here, with you. I won't leave you…" She clings to the fabric of your shirt. "And you won't leave me."
You're dizzy. You can hardly breathe. Your knees are shaking, knocking against hers. Harper must feel it. Awful as it is, the touch of her, the scent of fresh linen clinging to her and, frankly, the way she speaks, send your body into overdrive. Your face is flushed. When's the last time you've even been touched? It's fine. All of this is fine.
"Okay," you croak out, finally. "Okay. I was never… You can stay. Stay."
Harper becomes like your shadow. The only place she detaches herself from your side is in the bathroom. She'll sit on the kitchen counter, magazine in hand, while you're cooking dinner. Usually, she'll join you in watching a movie or show, or sketch on the couch while you're playing a game. The only chore she really helps you with is folding laundry. She's good at it, too. Sometimes, she just… Stares. Doesn't do anything other than drink in the sight of you with her eyes. (Once, when you'd gone to exercise in an effort to keep up good habits, you'd caught her staring at you in the doorway halfway through the routine. It'd made you shiver.)
It drives you a bit crazy. You feel like you have no privacy anymore, not a moment to yourself. Any attempt to tell her this has had no results. It isn't too bad, though. Harper isn't combative, complains or makes you upset. She seems quite happy, even. And affectionate with you. There's literally no one else here other than the two of you, after all. There's nothing that can go wrong as long as you are like this, isolated from the rest of the world.
Cracks start to show when you let her play around on your phone. She loves scrolling through social media. It's hard to guess why. The internet is filled to the brim with things she's never seen before. But when you eventually get your phone back, you get some weird texts.
Unknown Number: Hey. This is Clarence. Harper blocked my number, I'm pretty sure. You shouldn't let her use your phone.
Unknown Number: Is she still in your house?? You need to get her the hell out of there. She's sending people nasty stuff pretending to be you. I can't be the only one she does this to.
Unknown Number: Go check if I'm blocked if you don't believe me. You can do whatever you want, but getting you to break us up was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Don't make the mistake I did. RUN.
"…Did you block Clarence on my phone, Harper?" You ask slowly. Your phone buzzes again as you put it face-down on the counter. She's sitting on a chair in the kitchen as you wipe down the cabinets.
"Who told you that?!" She spits out. "I bet it was Dirk himself. He never knew when to mind his own business. Maybe he heard we were still here, together, and he got jealous. I never did anything."
"…I didn't do it, though."
"Well, maybe you did! On accident. Or it was some kind of glitch, or whatever, I don't know how these things work! You certainly didn't lose anything by not hearing from him, though…"
You sigh and drop the subject. You're tired. It doesn't feel worth arguing about, especially since you won't actually be able to get her to leave. You don't think you can take her on and force her out, really. It's fine. You can deal with this. Eventually, she must get bored and decide against all of this.
One time, while you're in the shower, you can hear and feel the front door slamming shut over the drone of the streaming water.
"Harper?" You call out. "What happened?" Only to get no response. You hurry through your routine, pulling on clothes over still-damp skin as you go looking for her.
"It was just some religious people. Going door-to-door," Harper tells you before you even have the chance to ask. All the curtains in your living room are drawn. Her eyes on you as sharp as she stares you down. "I sent them away. There's nothing to worry about." When you later look out through the glass of your front door, you don't see anyone.
Harper sleeps on the couch downstairs. It would be the polite thing to offer her your bed, but she's staying here for the long term and you'll grant yourself one morsel of self-indulge and privacy. Bedtime is one of the few other times where you know that you'll be left alone.
It's the middle of the night when your mattress dips with new weight. A soft groan slips out from the back of your throat. Your eyes flutter open, brain still struggling to catch up with the situation. A feminine voice shushes you and warm fingers card through your hair.
For a moment, you've forgotten all about the many objects that have left your house, and you're convinced it's Betty. She'd always soothe you when you woke up in the middle of the night, whether because of sleeplessness or a nightmare. Her soft tones always managed to lull you back to sleep. She doesn't speak, this time. Yet, in no time at all, your eyes are sliding shut again, muscles completely relaxed as you drift back off to sleep.
It's only when you wake up in the morning that you realise you're in someone else's arms. Dawn greets you with the familiar scent of fresh linen. Loose limbs are wrapped around you, plump lips pressed into the crook of your neck. They curl into a smile against your throat as you stir for the first time.
"Good morning," Harper mumbles, hot breath brushing against your neck, nose nuzzled up against the skin. You freeze. Goosebumps rush down your arm. You make a move to get up, but are kept down by one of Harper's arms and legs. She's holding you like some kind of teddy bear. Your face is burning up.
"Harper!!" You exclaim, wriggling a bit. "You're not supposed to— You can't just slip into my bed at night!"
"You can't seriously expect me to sleep on the couch, forever. I haven't seen you do anything to set me up with a room of my own…" Her hand grazes over the exposed skin over your stomach, your shirt pulled upwards from the tossing and turning during the night. "It's much more comfortable, here, with you."
There's a lot here that's obviously wrong. Still, you know that the couch can't be that comfortable… And a part of you had been missing something like this. It's been ages since someone else has touched you, held you, and Harper is soft and warm. Her hold soothes an unnamed feeling inside of you.
You know that you should tell her to leave. She'll keep chipping away at your boundaries if you don't show that you have a spine. …But you're tired. Does this really matter all that much? Harper has been cooing in your ear for so long that you've really begun to believe that no one else might look at you the same way. She's seen you at your absolute worst, spent time with Dirk during the weeks you'd let your dirty laundry pile up, watched you wander in and out of the room, trying but lacking the energy to get started. And she's still here. There's something wrong with you for finding that comforting.
"You smell really nice," Harper purposefully mumbles against your neck again, lips grazing the skin. "Stay in bed a little longer, okay? We don't have any other plans."
The two of you sharing a bed becomes a daily occurrence. Harper never fails to slip into bed after you, leaning over you on your side and pressing a 'goodnight kiss' to your forehead. You don't curl up against her while you're awake. Invariably, however, you wake up tangled up in her limbs, on the same side of the bad. You sleep a little bit better. It's an incredibly tender and domestic scene, especially when she wakes with a breathy giggle on her lips, telling you that you'd been muttering her name in your sleep.
None of it actually assuages the discontent that has been brewing underneath the surface. Staying at home for so long has made you into a far more private person. A recluse, a hermit, whatever you want to call it. You're not used to having people constantly in your space anymore. And if you hear Harper take another audible breath, or are forced to entertain her starting another conversation, you're going to tear your own hair out.
In reality, all you do is sigh and rub at your eyes.
"Harper, can I just… Do you mind sitting in another room, for a little bit? It's nothing personal. But, yeah, I like some alone time, sometimes." You once again find yourself in the living room, together with her.
"Oh don't act so silly!" Harper rolls her eyes, physically disregarding your worries with a flick of her wrist. "You'll hardly notice I'm there. It's not like you've felt like actually talking to me today, so what exactly am I bothering you with? The fact that I'm alive?" She laughs, off-kilter.
"Stay here, then," you mutter and move to get up yourself. "I'm going to my bedroom." If necessary, you guess you'll fucking barricade your door. The fact that such a thing has become a necessity leaves you wanting to cry.
Her hand latches around your wrist. "At least leave your phone with me. Maybe you're tired of my attention, huh? Need someone else to soothe your poor, aching little heart?"
It's the straw that breaks the camel's back.
"We're not even dating!" Frustration bursts out all at once, bottled up emotions leaving through a scream that sets your throat on fire. "We're not anything! I'm only letting you stay here, because, because, I don't even fucking know at this point! Harper, can you honestly, and I mean this with no disrespect…" You place your hand over your heart, tone taking on one of condescension, each of your words a poisoned blade poised to cut.
"Can you be surprised that people keep leaving you, if you're this miserable to be around, if you can't stop breathing down their goddamn neck for five minutes?! And to insist on every. Little. Thing. Going your way! You can't expect people to stick around if you're like this!"
The force of your words leave you panting, slightly hunched over. It's a relief to get them past your lips, but there's nothing here to be proud about. Your heart beats at the back of your throat as blood is pumping frantically through your body. Harper's grip on you hasn't loosened. Her pointer finger presses down on your pulse point.
Harper's eyes are wide for a flash, her mouth a little slack. It's gone as fast as it appeared. A cold mask slips into its place. Eyes narrow into slits, a smile somehow finds it way to her mouth. You're trembling.
"Ha! That's nostalgic…" Her voice is as calm as the rumbling before a storm. "You know, you sound just like Dirkie when you say stuff like that."
"Well, I get why he left you now!" You say, yet another stab. A muscle at the corner of her mouth twitches, she closes her eyes for just a moment. You're trembling all over, face hot with anger. Harper's hold around your wrist tightens.
"Did he put you up to this? Have you kept texting him? You really shouldn't— This isn't like you at all."
"It's you! It's all you! You bring out the worst in me!" You've burned through your energy. Your shoulders slump, eyelids sagging. "Why aren't you… Why aren't you yelling at me?! Do something!" Your voice cracks and your exhale is shuddering.
This would be so much easier if she acted like she usually would. If she'd scream back at you, growing into an inferno of rage of her own. It would make you feel a little more justified. You know she's mad. She has to be. Her fingers have grown paler at the tips where she's still clutching your wrist. You wouldn't be surprised if there are fingertip-shaped marks there tomorrow morning.
She only looks at you. She's still here.
Your shoulders shake, tears jump to your eyes. "I'm never, I'm never like this with anyone else… You should go already." You hiccup on a breath and start to sob violently, practically hacking with the force of it all. Harper's features soften the tiniest bit.
"There we go, there it is." Harper cooes at you, rubbing a circle on your skin with her finger.
She yanks on your arm with a sudden, hard force. Pain blossoms around your shoulder and wrist and you practically collapse on top of her. She wraps both of her arms around you without a noise of complaint, petting your back with almost frantic movements. You sob into her hair and babble out a nonsensical string of apologies, choking on your own breaths.
"Baby, baby, baby…" She sighs out, hands wandering up and down your back. She plays with the hem of your shirt between her fingers. "You were really, really mean to me back there. I can't believe you'd use my struggles against me like that. The ones I told you about because I trusted you so much."
"I'm sorry, really sorry…" You sob out. "You're right. I shouldn't have said it, it was mean, and awful and— I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
What you said did reflect your true feelings, though, in part. You're never going to be able to convince her that they were purely spur of the moment exclamations. And you'd be lying.
"I'm not sure if I forgive you yet. Anyone else would hate you for this. You know that, right? They would leave you. I'd know." Her hand wanders upwards, moving to pet at your head.
A shiver runs up your spine. You inhale strongly through your nose, clogged with tears. "…How can I make it up to you?"
Harper lets out a giggle, high-pitched and airy, her fingers sneaking underneath the fabric of your shirt. Her nails tease at your skin. She lightly traces patterns on your break that you quickly lose track of.
"I think you know what to do." Her fingers find the band of your bra, tugging it up and allowing it to snap back against your skin. "I've seen how you look at me. It's time to act on your feelings."
There's definitely feelings you have towards Harper. She's gorgeous, for one, incredibly interested in you—for better or for worse—and she… Has stayed behind. But it's not all rose-coloured, saccharine and romantic. You're not even sure if you like her, as a person. Or more so just pity her. It's all tangled up in your head in one big, suffocating mess. Maybe she's the one pitying you.
You swallow thickly and take in a shuddering breath. It only takes a little shifting to get in a more comfortable position. You're practically already in Harper's lap, so you spread your legs a little, putting your knees on both sides of her thighs. You chew on the inside of your lip. You must look like such a wreck right now. Hurriedly, you wipe at your face with the back of your forearm. You cup her face with one hand and she leans up to look at you, her soft sigh brushing against your mouth just before your lips meet hers.
Her hand is on the back of your head within seconds. The pressure she puts behind the touch has your faces pushed uncomfortably close together, your nose pushing hard against her cheek. You can't really breathe. Harper shifts her mouth, catching your bottom lip in between hers and sucking on it. She hums against your lips, chest trembling with a bit of suppressed laughter, as the tip of her tongue peeks out to graze along you.
You take a deep breath. Your muscles relax a little, your crotch pressing closer to hers. You're really straddling her now. Harper takes it as an invitation to move in even further. She's prodding at you now, trying to get you to open up for her, and you relent. Her tongue is exploring your mouth at once. Harper teases the sensitive roof of your mouth, pulling a soft whimper from the back of your throat.
Emboldened, her hand starts to wander further. She squeezes your ass in the palm of her and pulls you flush against her. Your chests are pressed together. There's a hair in your mouth, surely one of those long ones of hers that end up absolutely everywhere, but neither of you break the kiss for it. The pressure on the back has eased up a little bit. You can breathe through the kiss, tongues tangled together, spit-slick lips pressed against each other.
Harper is the one to pull away, panting and cheeks flushed. "You're the one who's making it up to me," she says. "And yet, I'm the one who's taking the lead." Green eyes bore into yours.
You lick your lips, the heat on your face blazing further in intensity. "I thought… That's what you liked." You squirm, and Harper grinds her hips upwards to meet with yours.
She smiles. A tension has fallen off of her shoulders, there's a change in the set of her mouth. You bending to her will like this has clearly dissipated her anger, for now.
"Okay, you're right, that's true. You know me pretty well, hm?" Her eyes slide half-closed, she leans into the hand that's still holding her cheek. "Say it to me. Tell me you want to do what I tell you to."
That's… A couple steps further than you were anticipating this to go. You turn your head away, embarrassment tying your insides in knots. As soon as her hands touch your face, forcing you to look at her, you whine.
"Well? And say my name while you do it."
"I… I want you to, uh, tell me what to do, Harper." You mumble, barely above a whisper. Wetness has gathered in between your legs and leaks into your underwear.
"Good enough," is all she says, before pulling you into yet another kiss.
It's quicker, more all-consuming, this time. She tilts her head and captures your mouth with hers, sloppily making out with you. Her hand guides yours to her chest. She isn't wearing a bra. As soon as you fondle her chest through the fabric of her top, she starts to hum against your mouth, hips grinding against yours. Harper tilts her head sideways and pushes her tongue just that little bit further into your mouth.
It doesn't take long before you're wriggling both of your hands underneath her shirt. You cup both of her breasts in your hands, squeezing them slightly as you rub circles around her hard nipples with your thumbs. Breathless, you break the kiss and press your face into the crook of her neck instead. Up and down you go, leaving a trail of wet kisses in your wake. You stop to suck on the skin. Your teeth graze the skin of her throat and Harper moans.
"Yeah, yeah, that's nice…" She pants out, leaning to the side to give you better access to her neck. You nibble on her skin, more rubbing it in between your teeth than actually biting down. Harper trembles and shifts her way from side to side.
"Harder," she orders. You tense up, but do as she tells you to, sucking the flesh into your mouth and applying more pressure. "Harder! I'm not going to break, I'll be fine, just—!"
Maybe it's a spark of your previous anger that makes you bite down as hard as you do, then. Your teeth sink into her skin until the copper taste of blood bursts onto your tongue. Harper is clawing at your back, her whole body underneath you tense as a bow, a series of curses flying from her mouth.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You pull away, eyes wide, some of her blood still on your lips with an apology ready on your tongue. But Harper starts to laugh. Her face is, somehow, even more flushed, her pupils blown wide. She brings her fingers to the wound, smearing the blood up and down her neck. It's really only a couple of droplets. It'd tasted like so much more. She lets out a shuddering sigh.
"I hope it'll scar… Mm, fuck, that really did hurt, though. You don't hold back." Her hand is back on your skull again, guiding you to your collarbone. "Do that again, baby. A little less hard."
You leave hickeys and bites wherever your mouth moves, primarily where the neck meets her shoulder and on her collarbone. Every single one of them is rewarded with one of Harper's giggles, a breathy moan or a pet to the top of your head. You're a lot less rough when it comes to her chest. You pause to suck on her nipples, playing with the other one using your fingers. Harper's sensitive there, you quickly realise. She shakes and leans back, almost squirming away from your touch, letting out trembling little high-pitched whimpers. But she never tells you to stop.
You lift yourself up and Harper pulls you back down with a quick arm around your waist. "I, I was going to get on my knees," you admit. "I should've warned you."
Harper melts at that, putting both of her hands back at her side. "That sounds wonderful," she croons. "You're going to show me another use of your mouth?"
Instead of answering, you opt to show her. You climb off of Harper's lap and get on your knees in front of her, spreading her legs. The moment your heart is underneath her skirt, again sucking marks into the inside of her thigh, Harper's foot is prodding at your pussy. You push yourself up on your knees and her leg slots in between your thighs. It leaves you with her lower leg to grind up against. Is it the most comfortable thing in the world? No. But you're desperate, pussy-drunk without even getting to lap at her clit yet, and smugness is oozing off of Harper as soon as you move against what she's giving you.
With every kiss, you get closer to Harper's soaked pussy. Your head is being squeezed in between her thighs, pressing against you harder and harder in anticipation. Her panties are adorable, pristine white and lacy things. And absolutely soaked. She'd shown them off to you when she'd initially bought them. You'd flushed and turned your head away then, but now you're pressing your lips against her clothed clit. You kiss it through the fabric.
Harper flips up her skirt and pulls, lightly this time, on your hair. "Stop! You're such a, haah, you're such a tease! I can't take this!" She's pushing herself up, shimmying her panties down her legs. In the back of your brain, you know that this is going to leave such a massive stain on your couch. Thankfully, Koa isn't here anymore.
"You could, uh, you could also sit on my face…?" You offer. The look on Harper's face is answer enough.
And that's how you end up on your back, staring up at the ceiling, the soft cushions of your couch supporting your neck as your nose is buried in Harper's crotch. Her panties and skirt are tossed somewhere nearby on the floor, her knees fit just barely next to your head. Still, you have to push yourself up on your elbows a little bit to make it all the way. Her pubic hair brushes against your nose with every movement of your lips.
You put your hands on her hips to steady her, and start to test the waters to see what your new partner likes. The entire lower half of your face is wet and sticky with her slick. You press the flat of your tongue firmly against her clit, moving up and down just a little bit. Or you purse your lips around it and suck, swirling your tongue around it as if you're making out with her most sensitive spot. You don't have the mind to also start toying with her hole, to slip in a finger or two there. You're lost in the scent and taste of there. You can, quite literally, hardly breathe.
Her pussy continues to gush all over your face. Verbally, Harper is no less encouraging. She moans out your name so often that you quickly lose count of it all and never hesitates to let you know just how much of a good time she's having. Suffice it to say, she's loud. Moaning and whining and whimpering, she seems to want to let your neighbours, no, the whole world know just how good you're making her feel.
"God, baby, you're so good at this!" Her hand tightens in your hair, nails scratching at your scalp. "You've, ngh, I bet you've practiced this with lots of girls, huh? But, not, not anymore! You're only going to use your pretty lips with me after this— Ever."
Once she gets close to the edge, you really start being unable to breathe. Your jaw aches as Harper presses down on you and grinds her pussy against your face. At this point, you hardly change the pace. You press your tongue against her clit and allow her to rub herself on it, doing what feels best for her, allowing your face to be used as sex toy. When she does cum, it's sudden and powerful, her hips taking on even more frantic jolts as she babbles mindlessly.
"Fuck— I thought of this so much, touched myself so much, while lying right there next to you!" She lets out a guttural moan, hand soothing where she'd just been yanking on your hair. "I love you, baby, I love you so much."
There's a lot to unpack there. Frankly, right now, you don't have the mind to, considering that you really are on the verge of passing out.
Harper's pussy leaves a wet mark behind on your face as she adjusts her position. You greedily inhale oxygen through your nose, your vision still somewhat blurry and your eyes half-lidded. She smiles at you as she takes a strand of your hair, stuck to your forehead with sweat, and tucks it behind your ear.
"You look soooo fucked out right now," she tells you, laughing softly. You can hardly imagine that you can possibly look more cumdrunk than her. "Baby, I've never had sex with a girl before, but it's supposed to go on for hours, right?"
the feminine urge to bite tamakis neck until it leaves a mark... over and over and over.... until he whined at you to stop and he pacified you n let you bite and suck at his wrists, up his arms where the muscles fluttered and at his fingers, chewing on him and rubbing your thighs together so happy that you got to have him in your mouth and gnaw, your jaw aching to squeeze tightly shut. he's just so cute, you can't help but want to eat him up!! and his skin looks so pretty all bruised with the shapes indented in the skin... my little chew toy :(
notes: implied stellaron hunter polycule (blade x reader - implied blade x kafka, implied kafka x reader), consent turned to non-consent, biting, drawing blood, blade's mara
sex taps into blade's more unrestrained instincts and, because of it, it is not always surprising that it stirs his mara as well. you're not the first to have experienced it. your other partners have, as well, and told of you the warning signs.
if blade starts to mutter under his breath, if his pace starts turning to uneven (and he doesn't seem to be close to cumming), if his eyes start darting around the room, if he starts hurting you bad, it's time to call it quits and call for kafka. not all of you have infinite regeneration to depend on.
so when blade starts to and keeps turning his head from left to right, though his hips never stop, and doesn't respond to anything you're trying to say in between gasps, you are tempted to call out. when he leans down to your neck and bites, bites hard enough to draw a strangled, barely-suppressed scream from your throat and has rivers of blood streaming down towards your collarbone, enough is enough. as much as you care for blade-- hell no.
extending one arm on the mattress, you furiously search for and pat for a string with a button on it. not unlike the kind of devices used by people dealing with potentially violent inmates, or elderly folks alone in their home, afraid of a fall. (you'd laughed when kafka had first presented you with, shook your head when she told you she would be in reach, should you ever need it. in turn, she had smiled and told her you would be glad for it, eventually. you know you are glad for the suggestion that blade store his sword across the room at all times, during sex.) you press it with all your might, hammering the button.
blade pulls away, lips slick with your blood, specks of gold lighting his eyes. he leans down, and your eyelids flutter shut in expectation of a kiss, but he only licks at your mouth instead. your heart is pounding. you dare not make any sudden movements. like an animal on the prowl, you are certain any attempt to escape would only agitate him more. ...though you suppose the closest comparison to blade would be an animal with rabies. his thrusts inside of you have turned sloppy, uneven. you are thinking of anything except your own pleasure.
"blade, please- haaa, look at me. it's me. yes?" when the full force of his piercing gaze clashes with your eyes, you wished you had not called his full attention to you after all. it's heavy.
"you..." he mumbles, blinking rapidly. his hands snake their way up your sides, towards your neck. you tremble. you know how to defend yourself, you're not here without reason. but if there is a way to de-escalate this situation without hurting either of you more than necessary, you will take it with both hands.
blade's still fucking into you, drool peeking past the corner of his mouth, when kafka opens the door.
"listen: bladie, slow down." she starts, and continues from there, slowly adding command upon command.
you can see the spirit whisper taking effect, at kafka's pulling and tugging at blade's mind, tying the frayed edges of his sanity back together as she coaxes him back to coherency. you try not to think about the fact that his cock is still inside you, throbbing. ...it's kind of humiliating, really.
kafka smiles when she makes her way to your side, wiping away some of the blood with the tips of her gloved fingers. "that sure is a nasty wound. ...you must have gotten poor bladie really excited." the man in question sits on the mattress, cock now flaccid. he rubs at his skull, still dazed and out of it.
"he'll be fine," kafka tells you, her blood-slick fingers grazing down your body. "but he left you a little high and dry, didn't he? well... you'll let me take care of that, won't you?"
Feel like I’ve talked abt this before but there is an incident where while sparring w Beckman i bite the shit out of his arm and he needs stitches and there’s discussions of if it’ll scar bad and shanks tries to be. So chill about it. But that night he’s goading me and goading me into biting him too (Beckman’s does heal. Shanks does not give his the opportunity to……)
