#blooming panic au

[fenmorre]

world.execute(me);

[duskthevampqueen]

Magical First Meeting (Part 1)

Hi! I know I haven't written for a few long time, but I suddenly had inspiration with my previous fantasy creature AU for Blooming Panic! Finally the reader is able to meet the fantasy LIs

Previous posts of this AU:

Fantasy LIs Fantasy LIs First Meets

In this, MC is a magic-user. This one is also only Xyx and Toast because of how long they were becoming and I didn't want to rush Owl's and Quest's.

1.5k words. Enjoy! :)

Xyx 

You were most definitely lost. 

You could’ve sworn this was a path to the closest village from your cabin out in the woods. You had run out of supplies of the spell that keeps your garden in harvesting year round, and winter was fast approaching. You could see it from the way the nights came sooner, colder and darker with every day. 

You had thought that the village was southeast of your cabin, but as the sunlight slowly became dimmer, you had less and less confidence. Especially when it came to the point that you had wished you had brought the lantern that guided you through darkness. It was only a matter of time til you were trying to find a clearing or cave to stay in for the night under the light of the moon. 

“You look lost, coming around here.”

You had just gotten near a clearing in front of a cave when you heard the voice come from behind you in the forest. It made you whip around, one hand immediately summoning a flame, something you were hesitant to do beforehand with how little magic you had. 

The warm lighting revealed a tall man just a few paces behind you, emerald eyes immediately glinting off the light. His head flinched with the new brightness, causing glimmers across his cheeks and neck, scales reflecting gold. 

Dragon shifter. 

“I’m not looking for trouble. Just for a place to stay for the night.” You kept your voice strong, holding back the urge to step back. It sent a chill down your spine how close he got before revealing his presence, making you take a glance around to make sure he was the only one. 

He held his hands up, tsking softly at your clear guard up. “Hey, hey, no need to get all skittish. I should be the one on edge, getting real close there.” He nods his head toward the cave behind you. 

You took a spare glance back to the cave, looking back to him with suspicion. It took a few moments for it to set in what the cave could be. “....That's a cave you shift or shed in, isn’t it?”

“Who wants to know, hm? You haven’t been the clearest in your intentions here, ya know.” 

He had a point. 

“... I’m a magic user from the northwest. I was trying to find the nearby village again, as I ran out of supplies for one of my garden spells. I’ve been traveling all day, but I seem to be lost.”

The man snorted a bit, dropping his hands at the same time that he raised an eyebrow, a grin coming to his lips. “The village? The village is a day's trip from here. Must be a terrible liar, or one to forget that the village is a multiple day trip from wherever you’re coming from.” 

It hit you when he said the latter option. You had forgotten it was a multiple day walk, because last time you had help from another magic-user that lent you their broom. It had been a half day flight at your novice pace, but a two-day walk. 

At seeing your shoulders slump, the man hesitated for a moment before starting to walk towards the cave. “C’mon. I can go one more night without shifting. You’ll owe me some gold though!” 

Your eyes widened at such an offer from the shifter, but as you watched him go past towards the cave, you felt a sense of relief. While staying the night with someone you just met for the first time wasn’t the most ideal, being close to a dragon in your favor is the safest.

As you followed behind him, you asked, “What should I call you?” 

A hum followed, emerald eyes glancing behind to you. “.... Call me X for now.”

“X? What's with the nickname?” 

The grin returned. “What's the fun of giving you info you ask for the first time? You gotta work for it, just like you’ll have to make a pretty good breakfast if you want me to give you a fly to the village tomorrow.” 

Oh boy… What had you gotten yourself into?

Toast

It had been a fairly quiet day at the bookshop. With the lack of customers, you had been able to tackle a good portion of the bookshop that you had been putting off since before you could remember. 

The previous owner of the shop sold it to you after you had been the only worker there for years, and he had gotten tired of the maintenance that came with the mass of books. Luckily for you, you had your magic on your side, but magic could only do so much against the giant pile of disarrayed books in the far back corner. It seemed like every time you chipped away at it, it became worse. 

At sundown now from coming in early that morning, you had been able to get most of the books out of the pile. Repairing damages of such books took just a tap of magic, but also required time, and so did setting them somewhere to be organized later into their already full sections. This also resulted in small stacks of books now being all over the shop. It made you sigh looking down the aisles to see them all about. 

Just as you were thinking if maybe this called for the whole shop to be reorganized, the bell above the door rang. The small sound made you perk up from where you had moved behind the counter to sit for a break. You looked over to the door, shocked when you had to look a bit higher than usual to the very tall person who had come in. 

“Ah… are you still open…? It looks like you’re cleaning…” They furrowed their brows as they glanced around, and you felt embarrassment that a customer had to see your shop looking a bit like a twister had gone through it. 

“Oh yes! I’m sorry for the mess, I’m working on getting through a pile of damaged books, and didn’t realize we’re so overstocked.” 

“Oh, I see.” The person’s eyebrows eased, only to furrow again when turning and seeing you. His pale blue eyes seemed to assess you for a moment behind his round glasses, more confused than upset. “Are you the new owner? You don’t look like that old man enough to be his family.” 

Surprised by such a direct question and assessment, you nodded. “I was the only worker of the old owner, and he sold it to me. I’ve had it only for a short time.” 

“I see.” They walked closer, glancing downward occasionally to make sure they didn't knock over any stacks of books, soft pink-blonde hair only kept back by the braid it was in. The closer they got, the more you had to crank your head back bit by bit, til they were on the other side of the counter. “Can I have your name?” 

“No, you can’t, but you can call me [Nickname].” The automatic response surprised both you and him, making him double take. For a moment he looked angry, but then his face started turning pink, anger changing out for embarrassment as he slowly put his head in his hands and bent over the counter. 

“Shit… Sorry, I didn't mean to ask it that way. Gods, that was so embarrassing, that's the first rule of asking people their names.” They grumbled before slowly lifting their head to look up to you. “I’m an elf, I promise, but I understand if you still don’t trust me with your name.”

Your eyes widened, waving your hands. “No no, it's okay! It's second nature for me to respond that way, don’t worry.”

He slowly nodded, straightening up and clearing his throat as he looked away. “I’m an old customer. I haven’t been here for a few decades, so I should’ve suspected it would be bought or passed on to someone.” 

Decades? They didn’t even look like they had hit 30 yet, the barest hint of stubble on their chin. It was always hard to remember that immortal beings could look so young for so long. 

“I appreciate you coming back after so long. What brings you back after all this time?” 

“I had moved to a smaller village north of here, but I’ve read all their books in their shop. I was hoping you had some new ones by now…” He took another look around. “But it looks like you need more help organizing.” 

You couldn’t help but agree with them. At this pace, it would take you weeks to completely reorganize the whole shop to be able to fit the repaired books, even with your magic. 

“Would… you be willing to help out?” At the raised eyebrows you received, you quickly spoke to attempt to explain. “I’m sorry to ask you when we just met, but I have no one else to help me, and you need books to read.” 

They looked at you like you were crazy – which, granted, you were when you had never met them before – for a moment before contemplating how much free reading it could mean to help out organize. 

“....Alright. I’ll help.” 

[otakusheep15]

Blooming Panic Restaurant AU

Hello tumblr dot com, I'm hyperfixating, and I'm going to make it everyone's problem. Shout out to Blooming Panic, I love this game so much I'm going insane.

Anyway, I was at work today, and I had a thought(tm) about a Blooming Panic AU where they all work at a small restaurant together, and I can't stop thinking about it, so here's a rough outline of my thoughts.

Reader (LovelyLola): You work at a company near the restaurant. It opened a few years after you began working. At first, you didn't pay it much attention, but as hours got longer and work got harder, you couldn't find it in you to keep cooking every night. Eventually, you give in and check out the restaurant, and it's nice. The staff is cool and welcoming, the environment is calm, and the food is amazing. Your visits increased from once a month to once a week to almost every single day. You pop in after work all the time, and the staff now know you by name. They love you a lot, and they're constantly trying to get you to quit your job so you can work with them instead. With how much you've been working lately, you're almost tempted to do so.

Salocin: He's the originator and owner of the restaurant. He opened it with his first wife, and ran it by himself after her passing. When he remarried his current wife, she quit her job to help him with the restaurant, much to his enjoyment. He's close to retirement, and he plans on leaving the restaurant to the current manager. He's a kind and fun boss, but he can be strict when he wants to. Customers love him, and he knows all of his regulars by name. He's chatty and has a tendency to distract his employees with his chatting, but he does his best to hold back so they can work.

NakedToaster: They're the current manager. They have no clue Salo intends on leaving the restaurant to them after his retirement. He tends to sit in his office most of the time, usually doing paperwork and the like. He practically owns the place already with how much he does. He hates taking to customers, especially if they have an issue. Most of the time they'll ask for Quest or Xyx to handle complaints in their place, not wanting to deal with any drama. As a manager, they are a bit strict, but fair. He's good at handling conflicts between employees, and everyone puts a lot of trust in him.

Xyx: He's the all-arounder of the bunch. He's that one employee who is trained in every position, except for manager. Salo offered him a position as a manager, but he thought it would be too much office work, which is boring, so he declined. His favorite position is the kitchen, as it's the most fun for him. Serving and hosting are fine as well, but he hates when he gets annoying customers. They're fun to mess with, sure, but it gets repetitive after a while. He can definitely get on people's nerves sometimes, but he's a good worker overall. He's the one Toasty is most likely to call on when they need someone to deal with rude customers, as he knows how to tell them off without being outwardly rude.

Quest: In this au, he was still in a gang. However, Salo is the one who finds Quest after he gets out of prison. He offers him a job as a grill cook, which helps Quest get off the streets, The job also gives him a chance to begin his change, and soon enough he's become a completely different person. He's kind, if a bit awkward. His coworkers love him, and he makes excellent food. He's basically a giant softie now, even if he still looks intimidating. Speaking of which. he is absolutely the one everyone calls on to stop fights. He's the intimidation guy. He's never gotten physical with a customer, as everyone usually backs off at just his appearance alone. Besides that, it's rare for him to deal with customers since he works in the kitchen, but he does occasionally deal with a customer when Toasty isn't feeling up for it.

Nightowl: He's that one server who flirts with literally every customer in the hopes of getting a larger tip. Some people find him to be a bit much, but most people like him and do tip him big. He's working here so that he can save up to pay for grad school. His mom refused to help him since he decided on a major she did not approve of, so he has to pay his own way. It's a struggle, but Salo pays well and is flexible with scheduling. He's a genuinely great server, and some customers come back just for him. He has a lot of personal regulars. If they're short-staffed, he will also double as a host, but that's very rare.

Onionthief: He's the new manager-in-training. Since Salo is retiring soon, he decided that the restaurant could use a new manager. Toasty is training him, and he's doing very well so far. He's much stricter, but he's a good manager, and he's open to learning and adapting when needed. He does not get along with Owl very well since he doesn't agree with his methods on gaining tips, but he's learned to deal with it. He's never worked in a restaurant before, so he can come off a bit spoiled, and everyone definitely makes fun of him for it. He's learning to undo his biases of the service industry, and he's doing well. His favorite part of the job is telling off rude customers, as it lets him let off some steam.

BigLady: She also works in the kitchen. She's the cook who seems really sweet but is actually so chaotic. Quest and her are very different, but they work well together. Unless Xyx is in the kitchen, in which case Quest is screwed. Sometimes, if she sees a cute girl come in, she will purposefully take her break at the same time so that she can go flirt, even if she's only been working for 20 minutes. She's the best cook of the three, and her dishes are usually the ones that get the most praise. She has a tendency to come into work a bit hungover sometimes, but she's still a good worker for the most part.

June: She's the main hostess. She's fairly new, only working for about nine months, but she's a great worker. People love how bubbly she is, and she compliments everyone who walks through the door. Sometimes she can be a bit shy, especially when bigger groups come in, but she does her best. On occasion, she'll double up as a server, but it's pretty rare since the restaurant is pretty small. She is one of two part-timers, and works on her days off from school. She loves this job a lot, and she recommends it to any new friends she makes. She's also the type to get so excited when her friends show up to eat while she's on shift.

Two2: He's the newby of the group, and he's adorably awkward. Owl is training them as a server, and everyone absolutely adores them. They're the other part-timer along with June, and they became instant friends. He also looks up to Nightowl a lot since he's around him so much. Two works almost every night after school and on the weekends. He loves this job a lot, and he has so much fun with the staff. It's a bit intimidating being the youngest, especially when he's the only one not finished with high school, but they're all nice to him and treat them like a younger sibling.

And that's all I have for now. I'm not the best writer, but if anyone wants to see more, I'll see what I can do. I've been brainrotting for a few days over Blooming Panic, so I'd love to write more.

[bonxarts]

MAFIA AU, brain gone // bogus printed // head gone i cant see

More references below cause friends gave me brain rot and freewill i need my braincells again please-

[lukascreamsintothevoid]

Blooming Panic High School Teacher Edition

So... Bloomic, but teachers, you know?

Bloombot- Superintendent- works in the shadows, isn’t often seen but keeps things running. Lays down the rules. BUT SHE’S A GOOD SUPERINTENDENT, NOT A SHITTY ONE THAT MAKES HER EMPLOYEES MISERABLE.

Salocin- Principal whose been teaching for years and is beloved by all students and staff. He was formerly a science teacher before moving into admin. He never really wanted to be principal, but he saw the need for someone who could actually connect with staff and students, so he stepped up like the God he is.

Hypebot- the weird ass janitor that everyone knows and everyone loves. You’re not quite sure if he’s actually doing his job at any point, but he’s got a mop and a broom and he pushes them in the cart, and the rooms and halls are always clean, so he must be doing something right. But whenever you see him, he always seems to be doing something just a little absurd and you're not really sure how it relates to his job, but oh well.

June- English/creative writing- June is the English teacher who gets really excited about the stuff she teaches. If she loves the work, she’s so excited and gets all the kids excited. If she hates the work or the author, the class becomes a roast-fest, and the kids are still engaged because watching Ms. June insult dead authors is hilarious. Her creative writing kids would fight someone for her without a second thought.

Onion- Math- Everyone agrees that he’s smart. Really smart. When there’s a quiz in his class, every student panics and starts studying in all of their classes. They will have their History books open, and stuffed inside will be worksheets to help them practice the problems during class. The kids love him as a person. He’s grumpy, but not in a mean way, so kids like to stop by before and after school and say hi and just pester him. But when he starts teaching, most students can’t stand him, just because the class is tough. Most of them pass, though, unless they just refuse to do the work, and most kids will begrudgingly admit that he’s the main reason they passed the math section of the ACT/SAT. He also definitely sponsors the chess club.

Lady- Science- She has class pets that everyone adores. She’s also not afraid to tease the kids if they're doing something dumb. Not if their not doing well in class or anything like that and they’re actually trying, but if a kid is trying to make a basket with some wadded-up trash and misses, she’ll boo and tell him to take another shot. Or if a kid is goofing off in class and throwing pencils in the ceiling rather than paying attention, she’ll banter with them before asking them to stop. Usually gets a pretty good response too. She gets deadly serious when they’re doing a lab. If you’re fucking around while they're dealing with ACTUAL FIRE AND CHEMICALS, you can bet your ass you're out of that class until she can talk with you.

Quest- History- This man as a history teacher would be the death of me. He’s got a really calm voice, so kids listen and settle down in his room. He makes the terrible parts of history seem less scary, and if things are getting a little bleak, he breaks the tension with a silly joke. But he also doesn’t sugarcoat things. If the textbook gets something wrong, or if there’s something in it that historians debate, He’ll stop and discuss why it’s incorrect and give the kids the right information. He opens his class up during some lunches to give the kids who don’t want to be in the lunchroom a safe place. He also always has snacks. If you’re hungry, he’ll open a drawer and just toss you some crackers. I’m just in love with the idea of Quest managing to reach the kids who were a lot like him growing up. He just feels like maybe he can make a difference in one kid's life; maybe he can stop them from making the same mistakes he did.

Toaster- Desktop Publish/ Technology- He’s definitely kinda awkward around the kids, but they warm up to him really fast and he has no idea why. But all the kids love his computer classes. They break down every step when working with the kids, and lets them work on more creative projects than what the book suggests. Another really calming presence for the kids. They're also who all the teachers send the kids to if their Chromebooks stop working. He’s got a magic touch with them, but he swears all he does is tell them to turn it off and back on again. His afterschool programming club is super lively, and definitely has won a lot of awards

Two2- music- It’s two2. They’re just really scattered, all the time. He’s definitely the teacher you find just sprinting down the hallway because he’s five minutes late to class because the sightreading worksheets he prepared jammed up the printer. They walk in, and the kids all chant “If you’d been gone 3 more minutes, legally we could have left.” He laughs it off, but the rest of the class is a little off-kilter for the rest of the day because they’re still flustered. It’s always chaotic, it's always a little messy, and the kids make fun of them, but if they’re gone for any reason, all the music kids are in a bit of a funk for the whole day.

XYX- Gym- GIVE THIS MAN A FUCKING DODGEBALL. He’s always got crazy shit for the kids to do during gym; sometimes it’s basketball, but you can only make a basket from a certain spot on the floor, other times its races and the winner gets to pick what they do the next day. Dodgeball tournaments are insane, the talk of the school. Don’t expect to do anything but review in class when Xyx plans one, because the kids are going to focus on nothing else. But he always finds ways to make sure that the less athletic kids don’t feel terrible in his class. Sometimes he’ll put himself on a particularly unathletic team and watch the other team scatter in fear of him. Sometimes he’ll tweak the rules, but in fun, stupid ways that leave everyone talking and excited about it. He plans the games for school assemblies, and he always has fun picking out the most embarrassing game for the teachers to compete in because he knows the kids get riled up seeing their teachers do something stupid. 

Nightowl- Art- He’s the teacher that sits on the desks. He’ll sit anywhere in the classroom that isn’t a chair. And kids agree that of all the teachers, he’s the one who dresses the least like a teacher. It’s always professional, but there’s a sort of casualness to his outfits that the kids like. On opposite day during spirit week, kids tend to dress like and act like him. He’s also the one that all the other teachers go to if there’s some kind of fad that’s caught on with the kids and no one knows what it’s about. All the crew likes to think that they are the cool teacher, but Nightowl is the undisputed cool teacher to the kids. Also, this works, because people joke about English and Math teachers not getting along, but I have never seen an art teacher who does not have beef with the math teachers. The kids absolutely feed into the drama between Owl and Onion, and they think it’s hilarious. He's also the teacher that said "fuck" in front of the kids one morning when he was still really tired, then looked them all in the eye and told them that if they said a word, he'd fail them all. The whole school was joking about it by lunch, and no one failed the class.

[crowparties]

notes: happy birthday toasty dude, i just. i think toaster should couple cosplay michel fata morgana. for me. (also grats toaster ur birthday is on patch day how freaking cute is that) They hold off on the usual coloring at your insistence. You bat your lashes, all sorts of ridiculous and beg them to be “you’re white hair anime boy.” Toaster lets out a loose laugh at that, nervous and flattered all at once. ( “Honey, is it not enough to do cosplay matchies in ffxiv?”) Just a one time deal, because frankly, you’d be lost without the pink staining your bathroom sink and tower of Olaplex stacked for the shower.  The pink fades from a soft sunset to a softer blonde, but Toaster still insists on getting it touched up at the salon, despite your insistence to let it be. “I’ll love you white haired anime boy or not!”  “Remember that when I make bad static glamour decisions.” Toaster says, kissing your temple.  You kiss him back, waving him off with a smile. “Don’t worry, I always blame Xyx for those.”  .  The white hair makes your breath catch. Toaster wraps his arms around you, their chin resting on your head. “So I’m your Michel, huh?” “Well, you’ll always be my Toaster, first.” You clasp their hand tightly, and beam up at them. “Baby, it’s actually killer when you’re cute like that.” He groans, burying into your neck, pulling you closer on their lap, before you could say even more embarrassing things. There’s a cozy silence between you two, wrapped up and cuddled, till Toaster let’s out a sleepy mumble. “You’re totally my Giselle.”

[its-not-lumi]

Welcome !

I'm just a freak who thinks a little too much at night instead of sleeping... And just want to talk about it ! :D

Here are the main subjects I can talk about :

Genshin Impact :

Headcannons

Fanfictions

Theory(?)

Funny things that goes through my mind ig ?

Fnaf (mostly SB) :

Headcannons

Fanfictions

Lore (obv)

My Au's (sometimes)

And again funny things that pop up time to time ! :D

Blooming panic :

Headcannons

Fanfictions

Maybe some fanarts that I made

And who knows else..

Error 143 :

Headcannons

Fanfictions (Micah my bby<3)

Fanarts

...

Obey me ! :

Headcannons

FAN-FIC-TION ( like fr i got SOOO much of these its impressing really)

Fanarts

And dumb stuff about the brothers

TMNT and ROTTMNT :

Headcannons

Maybe some fanfictions or some OS

Fanarts ?

And ideas that I got while adoring these incredible ninjas

And much more...

PS: It really depends on my mood and in which fandom I'm more into at that moment ^^''

Ok byeee ~~~ Hope to see u next time, and if you have questions pls feel free to ask :)

[myosotis-prince]

nngh .... blooming panic voltron au ...... *shot on sight*

[periofthesea]

with school starting back up the temptation to write my blooming panic college!au grows with each passing day,,,

[dapotatoauthor]

TANGINA KAKAKITA KO LANG I FCUKING LOVE THEM PLEASE HELPPPP 😭😭😭😭

That moment when the person sitting across you is real cute

I put way too much energy into these jokes istg

[arolesbianism]

Ok new au Aris brainstorming is finally going somewhere me when I recruit an unstable 14 year old for the basically a supercomputer in her brain only to realize I actually just recruited two unstable 14 year olds

[kissatoru]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐆

pairing. sub!werewolf!toji fushiguro x dom!gn!reader

synopsis. stories and fables always warn of the big bad wolf, but personally, you think he makes quite a cute pet.

content. PORN WITH PLOT YAYY, no curses/modern/alternate magic au, bratty asf sub!toji, mean dom!reader, reader is super strong and beats toji’s ass lol, canon-typical violence, cigarette smoking, outdoor sex, degradation, brat-taming, mild pet play, shoe humping, cock stepping, pain kink, s/m dynamic, handjob, edging, pet (?) names (darling, sweetheart [receiving; condescendingly] + pup, puppy, puppy dog [giving; also condescendingly]), anal fingering, spit and cum as lube, spanking, reader refers to themself as ‘master’ once, morally grey + dubcon ending

notes. finally finished!! thank you for your patience til now :,) this fic kinda ran away from me while i was writing it so it’s different to what i initially planned but hopefully people are still into it. also it’s my first time writing toji so i hope i did him justice!! anyway, please consider reblogging if you enjoy<3

wc. 9.2k

The footsteps started when you were about halfway home.

In sync with yours. Heavy yet carefully quiet, faint but noticeable, at least to someone who goes on walks in the woods as often as you. Human, as well — too calculated not to be — and someone with a broader gait, by the sounds of it.

After a few moments of inner-debate, you stop. The footsteps stop too.

Your eyes swiftly scan your surroundings. Nothing — but you keep your guard up as you slip a cigarette out of the tin in your coat’s breast pocket, then a lighter from your trouser pocket. Between your lips, you rest the cigarette and cup your hand over the lighter’s flame. Its warmth is intimate against your cold skin, in both its temperature and familiarity. The thin misty stem of scorched tobacco blooms in the air.

You absentmindedly dig a little divot in the dirt with the tip of your shoe, and chance another curt look around you, but still nothing. Minutes tick by and eventually you decide to resume your walking, though at a more leisurely pace this time. And as you do so, those footsteps return — tenfold. Soft, distant taps turn into violent hits against the earth. Nearer and nearer they draw, but you keep facing forward, not a stutter in your step or a falter in the lazy in and out of smoke.

Until a looming presence enters your peripheral vision.

A blur is your only warning. Then an arm cinches around your throat.

You jab your lit cigarette into the man’s arm. A raspy, “Son of a bitch,” puffs into your ear, but he doesn’t let go.

Okay. Don’t panic. Focus.

You try again. Spread your stance. Secure your grip. Jump, legs in the air, and throw yourself back down. His body hunches over yours. You propel back up. Hurl him over your back.

He grunts as his body slams the ground. You rush to immobilise him. He manoeuvres out of the way.

Back on his feet in seconds, he’s already charging at you. Too fast for you to dodge. You block with your arms. His fist lands like a nuclear bomb. Pure power. All at once. Leaves aftershocks like an earthquake. But still, you stay standing.

Your assailant huffs, something that sounds both pissed off and surprised, before he directs another attack. Straight for your torso.

You catch his wrist and twist it. He thrusts a leg out at your feet.

The forest around you flips upside down. Your back and the ground collide. Pain in your spine. A shadow above you. Weight on your hips. Pressure around your neck.

You grip one of your attacker’s arms. Pivot your feet round his legs. Ram your pelvis upward.

Your vision carousels. You’re on top of him. He pushes you off.

On your feet. Both of you.

A narrow miss, the edge of his knuckles swiping past your temple.

You leap back. He surges forward.

You attack before he does — a roundhouse kick to his face.

The assailant’s head spins ninety degrees. He brings a hand up to his nose, sharply inhaling as he touches it, before turning back to you.

He swings again. You knock it away. Strike his diaphragm. Then his skull.

He doubles over. You double down. Spear your knee into his face. Once. Twice. Three times. Full force, no respite. You aim for his diaphragm again with the heel of your foot.

He stumbles backwards and hits a tree. His body slumps to the ground.

He goes to get up. You pin your shoe to his sternum and shove him back. “Stay down.” You lean forward, his rib cage fighting against the compression. “Who are you? Why are you attacking me?”

Blood oozes down his chin from his nose. “Why d’ya think I’d tell you anything?”

You answer with a backhanded smack across his face.

He coughs at the impact and spits out the blood in his mouth. “Feisty, aren’t ya?” His lips stretch into a vengeful smile, laying bare his orange-stained teeth.

That’s when you notice a distinguishable scar, thick and ridged, spliced through his lip. Next, his teeth — tapered, dog-like. Then the pointy mammal ears sticking out of his hair, the furry black tail resting beside him…

There’s no doubt in your mind. It’s him. World renowned assassin: Hellhound, the Sorcerer Killer. Half-man, half-wolf; rumoured to be the only one of his kind. Willing to do anything for the right price is his motto. Until now, you’ve only ever heard of him, but now that you’re face to face… Well, he certainly looks the part, but if he was really as good as people say he is, your current positions would likely be reversed.

“I take it my reputation precedes me?” Toji pipes up cockily, apparently picking up on the recognition in your stare.

You avoid the question, lest it feeds the ego that is undoubtedly big enough already. “How much are you getting paid?”

Toji wipes the blood under his nose and looks up at you. “Not enough to be dealing with all this, tha’s for sure,” he remarks snidely.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind giving me the details of your employer.”

“Nah,” Toji argues back with slitted eyes and a chin angled up arrogantly. “Afraid I’m bound by contract, sweetheart.”

You smack him again, but all it does is garner a chuckle.

“If slapping me’s as far as you’re willin’ to go to get me to talk,” Toji scoffs before gazing up at you, “then we’re gonna be here a while, darlin’.”

Eyes narrowed, you contemplate other courses of action, different methods of both torture and persuasion.

As if embracing his current position, Toji rests back against the tree, casual despite the circumstances being everything but. “Look. You’re not gonna get me to rat out my client, alright? So unless you wanna start talking numbers, I suggest you just give–”

Your boot stomps down on Toji’s groine.

His jaw drops open and an almost inaudible moan spills out. “Ah… fuck.”

Not quite the reaction you were going for. Still, you curiously lean your leg forward, pressing the sole of your shoe down harder against Toji’s crotch. His head slumps forward, dark hair curtaining over his eyes. A barely-suppressed groan finds its way out of him.

“No way,” you breathe, incredulous. “You like this, don’t you?” You stifle a laugh. “What, not every day you get your ass handed to you, huh? I bet you didn’t even know you were into this.”

He peers up at you, grin flashing like a switchblade. “Don’t act like you’re any better.”

“Oh, I don’t have to act like it.” You roll your foot around in focused circles, watching how Toji’s breath gets heavier with each one. Your silhouette towers over him, tall and proud; carving its shape into the veil of moonlight behind you. All your features melt away in the shadows draped over your face — all except your smile, which perseveres with deadly determination and even deadlier teeth. They’re not anything special, sure; they don’t hold a light to Toji’s, yet they instil a sense of unease that someone of his size and strength and species is entirely unfamiliar with. And as he watches your tongue glide across the edge of them, shining and sinister, he realises that maybe it’s not the teeth themselves that are the threat. Maybe it’s what lies behind them; the person they belong to, who is staring down at him like a tiger eyeing a pound of flesh.

“You’re the one whose pitiful dick is under my boot right now, after all.”

Matted black ears tuck back against his head, just as any cornered animal’s might, as Toji scowls up at you. “Shut up. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

You look him up and down, from the tips of his twitchy ears to the bottom of his fluffy tail. The pinkening of his cheeks, his glossy eyes staring up at you. Puppylike. “I’d say I have a pretty good idea actually,” you say, holding in a giggle.

Toji snarls. “I’m warning y…” A breathy moan slips past his defences, so delicate you’d never suspect it could come from a man as big and burly as him. “Fuck– fuck you. If you’re gonna touch me, at least do it properly, you fucking… coward.”

His glare melts into scrunched eyebrows and squeezed-shut eyes as you sink more pressure onto his cock.

“Why would I do that? You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine like this,” you tease, and follow it with a quickened but not yet fast pace; something steady enough to not be teasing but slow enough to keep him wanting.

Toji growls. “Bastard,” he spits, but the word’s intention is lost in the air that flutters around it, turning it soft and feeble as his jaw quivers. Another brief second of honesty, a momentary crack in his composure, but that locked jaw returns as soon as Toji notices it. The look on his face is unchanged, but you’re not sure if it’s because he truly believes he’ll come out on top by the end of this, or if he’s just waiting for you to prove you’re worthy of his surrender.

“It’s not enough,” he pants out. His hands clench into fists around the soil he sits in as his hips move against your shoe. It’s still not discreet enough to go unnoticed by you — though you opt to avoid mentioning it, in favour of continuing down the path of opportunity he’s already opened up for you with his response.

“No, I think it is,” you insist, syncing your foot’s movements to Toji’s hips. Already so lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realise it. “I think you could cum just like this, riding my shoe like a worthless whore.”

Clawed fingers and calloused palms constrict around your calf. The tightness of his grip gives the impression that he’s trying to stop you, but you can feel the way he uses it to meet his grinding motions.

It’s quite the show, really. A man — a beast — like Toji, beneath you in such a way, with his eyes closed in oblivious concentration, his lips parted ever so slightly and his strained breaths hot against your shin. Dark lashes on rosy cheeks. Hair swept across his eyes, shifting with every movement.

It’s too bad it can’t last.

What you said certainly implies that you plan to make him finish like this, but all it really is is a trap. No beast can truly resist temptation, after all, and Toji is no different. He’ll pretend to hate every second of this, but there is no denying that the only reason you’ve gotten this far is because he wants it. Desperately. Carnally. He might scowl at your degrading words, but in the end, he chases after the promise that’s whispered over their shoulder, the promise that he longs for so deeply that he doesn’t realise its hushed voice is really his own in disguise.

You rake your fingers through his hair, collecting sweat and the strands obscuring his face into a fist. A yank drags his face into the moonlight, and a groan from his throat. “Alright, that’s enough,” you declare, the words cutting and final. “Get off me, fleabag.”

Toji’s lip curls up in a snarl and his canines gleam beneath the pale skin. “The fuck d’ya mean ‘that’s enough’?”

You scoff. “Exactly that.” Darkness drips over Toji’s face as you lean over him. “Now get off of me before I fucking make you.”

For a second, you think you’ll need to repeat yourself one more time — his eyes are narrowed and his lips pursed, a look of reluctance if you’ve ever seen it — but then the hands around your leg loosen, until all that’s left behind is the autumn breeze against the lingering imprint of his warm palms. The grin you find yourself wearing is so wide you feel your teeth pressing through your lips. A brat’s obedience, no matter how small, is always a victory worth celebrating.

“So what now?” Toji sighs and leans back on his hands, legs still spread. Boredom sculpts his features, but the colour in his cheeks betrays his façade. Try as he might, he’s not nearly as good at hiding his true desires as he thinks. And when you only smile in response, he raises an eyebrow. “Well?” A scarred hand confidently slides down to the space between his thighs, the thick fingers parting and tracing the silhouette of his hard cock. Wolfish fangs pull at his bottom lip and a harsh breath rushes out through his nose. “You just gonna stand there… or are you gonna come and finish what you started?”

You lean your weight back, arms folded across your chest, and chuckle. “I can’t really win, can I?” you say with playful resignation. “Either way, you’ll enjoy it.”

He grins — the kind of shit-eating grin that’s designed to scorch your nerves down to their roots. Whether that’s a good or a bad kind of sensation depends entirely on the person. In Toji’s case? It’s somehow both.

“Better make your choice quick then,” Toji remarks, his tone equal parts raspy and sultry. “If ya don’t hurry, I’ll just finish myself off right here and now.” The tip of his tongue peeks out between his sharp moonlit teeth, mirroring your action from before.

You snicker and give him a pitied once-over. “Darling, I assure you that’s not the threat you think it is.”

Furry ears jerk in place as Toji sucks his teeth. “Get down here and suck my cock before I rip your throat out then.” The words tumble out of him like he’s rushing to get them out — evidence of his growing desperation, or perhaps of his courage, waning in the imminent promise of consequence.

“There,” he says with finality, lips stretched into a half-cocky, half-frustrated snarl. “‘That threatenin’ enough for ya now, bitch?”

You swiftly snatch his face up in one hand and Toji flinches — just a split-second scrunch of his eyes, but it’s enough to tell you caught him off guard. You’re not really acting out of anger so much as greed though; craving and chasing after those tiny yet monumentally satisfying slip-ups in his reactions. “You are awful mouthy for some dog that was humping my foot until a minute ago.”

“Yeah, and?” he barks back, with enough gall to still be smiling against your palm. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

Suppressing another laugh, you draw closer to him; not quite eye-level, just ever so slightly elevated. “You know, it’d be kind of cute how badly you want me to fuck you if you weren’t so fucking insufferable about it.” Your nails, though blunt in comparison to Toji’s claws, carve impressive crescents into his skin under the force of your tensed fingers. “But don’t forget that you’re below me, mutt. I can stop any time. I can go home and never think about you again, but you?” You laugh through your nose and push his skull into the bark of the tree behind him. A clawed hand clamps around your wrist, but you don’t move an inch. “You’ll be the one jerking off in the middle of a fucking forest, like some filthy creep, fantasising about all the things I didn’t do to you but could have had you just stopped being a brat for one goddamn second.”

An airy breath leaves you, charged with equal parts exasperation and glee and resulting in something akin to a laugh. The mockery behind the noise fails to affect Toji, however. Those night-black ears remain flat against his skull, and those indigo eyes remain glaring at you, but the tightly-sealed lips below them tell you he’s biting his tongue — figuratively, though perhaps also literally. It doesn’t seem too far of a stretch to assume he’d go to such lengths to keep from arguing back, after all.

You smooth your free hand over your hair and readjust the grip of the other on Toji’s face. He grunts at the action, but those lips don’t budge, not even a twitch. The silence that follows is unfamiliar, but not completely unwelcome. Even rewarding, in a way.

“So what’s it gonna be, puppy dog?” you ask lazily, though not without that telltale flicker of amusement in your voice. “Are you gonna be a good boy?” You tilt your head and smirk. “Or would you prefer to jizz here in the dirt with just your hand and imagination like a pathetic loser instead?”

You feel how he grinds his teeth, that slow mechanical shift of his jaw and the muffled chalky sound of bone grating against bone in his mouth. Curiosity beckons you to wonder what’s going on inside that head of his; what words he’s rummaging through his mind for, what kind of responses he’s drafting and redrafting, if any at all. What does a beast of his calibre have to say to a lowly human like you, daring to tame and subdue him?

In the darkness below your form, you catch a cautionary rise and fall of his hips. Just one small short nudge of his pelvis, forwards then back again. And before you can comment on it, Toji speaks, low and not entirely begrudgingly:

“Put me in my place then.”

Immediately, your lips slide into a smile, but you restrain from getting too excited just yet. “Is that an order? Or a plea?”

Midnight eyes dart away from yours; no words follow.

“Well? Answer me,” you snap at him. “You can do it now or I can just leave, remember? Either option is fine by me.”

Toji groans. “It’s… I’m– I’m asking.” He sighs heavily and the hand around your wrist loosens, twitches. He still refuses to look at you amidst this all, it seems. But you wait some more, let the silence linger a little longer, just in case.

He sighs again. Still doesn’t look at you, but a quiet little, “Please,” squeezes through gritted teeth.

“Can I get that in a full sentence?” you say, polite enough to seem genuine at first, but paired with that condescending grin of yours, it’s not at all convincing. “I just want to be sure I’m understanding you correctly.”

Toji’s eyes finally return to yours. “You’re pushing your fucking luck,” he growls.

“Oh, I am? I’m pushing my luck?” You pause, but not to let him answer; on your face is a look that tells him he’s the one pushing his luck, that he’s misstepped — and should take that step back before he regrets it. “Sorry, who’s doing who a favour by being here, again?” You’re no longer smiling, but the condescension in your tone remains. “Remind me because I seem to have forgotten.”

His eyes flick away and you’re met instead with the silence you have grown somewhat fond of.

Then, eventually: “You,” he answers and his Adam’s apple bumps against your wrist as he swallows. “I want you to…” He hesitates, tense neck muscles relaxing in your hand, eyes closing, pressing shut. Hard. Reluctant, even now.

“To put me in my place… Please.”

A sickeningly delighted snicker escapes your throat. “Well done, puppy,” you praise, giving a few patronising pats to his cheek, making Toji flinch, before you let go of his face. “I knew you could do it! Who’s a good boy?” You ruffle his hair alongside your fake coo to rub salt into his wounded ego.

Toji sucks his teeth, refusing to give you the satisfaction of anything other than that as a reaction to your satirical tease. You just hum to yourself gleefully. You’re happy either way — you have him right where you want him, after all.

You stand up straight, returning to your position above him. “Alright. Be a doll and take your pants off for me.”

A scarred lip tugs up toward his cheekbone, canine teeth peering out. “No ‘please’?”

Easy as that, the cheerful expression on your face distils into stone cold eyes and unmoving lips, leaving the wordless air to speak for you. Briskly after, Toji begins sliding off his black pants until they bunch up at his ankles. He looks up at you. “Want my shoes off too, perv?” he jokes, proudly grinning.

Ignoring him, you step over his legs, so your feet are either side of them, then sit down. His thighs squirm under you.

“Uh, what–”

“Be quiet,” you demand.

And for once, Toji does so without further hesitation or questioning.

Your fingertips trail down his torso, his skin spasming under the fabric of his t-shirt at the featherlight contact. Down his chest, stomach, navel, catching on the waistband of his underwear, passing over it. Fingers dance and butterfly around the outline of his cock and back again. Slow and gentle but purposeful touches. His chest stutters, his abdominal muscles contract. You continue, motions repeating in hypnotic succession of one another like shifting waves. The thighs beneath you begin to fidget again.

“Stay still,” you say with a pointed look.

A restrained groan. “When are you gonna–”

“Whenever I damn well feel like it,” you scold, “but not at all if you don’t watch yourself.” You make sure to give him another sharp glare before you resume.

Elastic gives under the pull of your fingers and glides down his hips until they tuck under his balls. Cool air envelopes his cock and yanks a hiss out from between Toji’s teeth. Your fingers spread again, over the exposed tip, then back again to paint small circles around the wet slit.

A blunt thump brings your attention to Toji’s face, where the foliage above projects its fragile forms onto it. His head is tilted back against the tree behind him, mussed furry ears flush against the bark and restlessness manipulating the rest of his features. The shameless clarity of his struggle fans the flames of your excitement.

Your fingers change shape again and wrap loosely around Toji’s length. The edge of a harsh sigh catches on the ends of your hair, brushing it up as you move your hand down, and up, then down again. The writhing of his thighs dominoes into his hips, which jump up, seemingly involuntarily.

Just this once, you choose not to indulge in your own selfish enjoyment — as a reward for his almost exclusively obedient behaviour since you began touching him — and mercifully grant Toji the relief of your whole hand, curling it to fit around the shape of his dick. A half-cut-off gasp unfolds in the space between you, but nothing more. You smile nonetheless. “Does that feel good?”

Toji’s head adjusts against the tree, eyelids pinching and tightening. “What kinda question is that? F’course it does.”

You hum. “Just wanted to make sure you’re still responsive.”

Toji opens his eyes, hooded but still catching the moonlight, to flash you a confident look. “You won’t break me that easily.”

Yet his self-assured tone cracks when you suddenly tighten your grip around him and hasten your pace.

“Wait, don’t– not that fast–” He gasps and reaches for your wrist, but you swat it away. You change the pace again, and again. Soft, hard, slow, quick. And all Toji can do is mutter expletives and squeeze his fists around handfuls of dirt.

“I’m… close,” Toji warns breathily.

“Really?” you snort. Granted, you’d teased him for a while before this, but you’re still shocked. He must have been more into this than even you had noticed. “You must be popular in the bedroom, huh?” you quip. “They call you Two-Minute-Toji?”

Thick eyebrows furrow as a half-hearted snarl seeps out from Toji’s lips. “God, do you ever shut–” He moans and grabs at your thighs, the tips of his claws piercing through your clothing. “I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck–”

Your touch vanishes before Toji’s words can come true, allowing you to watch the ecstasy melt off his face in real time. A series of emotions pass through in its place: first confusion, then realisation until, finally, disappointment. Outrage. Desperation.

Maybe you’re just sadistic, but you find it to be a good look on him.

In the spur of the moment, Toji attempts to finish what you so cruelly and prematurely left incomplete, but you capture his wrists and raise up on your knees to pin them above his head.

“Shit!” he exclaims, wide chest still sinking and swelling from his near-high. “What the fuck’s your problem? Why’d you stop?”

Exactly the kind of response you’d expected, of course. An entirely reasonable one at that, but still — you’re unable to fend off the smirk that grows at the sight of it. This is just the start, and he’s already so upset? Shivers take over you at the thought of how unprepared he is for the torture to come.

“You made me work for what I want. It’s only fair I get to do the same to you,” you explain matter-of-factly. “And the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

Toji’s ears flap with vexation; you’re sure he only means to be angry, but to you, he resembles a sulking puppy.

You release his hands and move them to his shoulders. “So here’s how this is gonna go,” you start cheerily. “When you’re close, you tell me. Don’t, and I’ll ruin your beloved orgasm, right then and there!” You pinch his cheek in a faux-flirty way. “Got that, my little mutt?”

Toji frowns with something like judgement. “What sort of sick game is this?”

“Does it really matter so long as you cum at the end?” you counter, but Toji remains unconvinced.

“‘Course it does,” he replies. “What’s the point in making me wait if I can have it now?”

Such simplistic, almost childlike logic; it makes you giggle. “The point is a little thing called delayed gratification,” you say in that typical patronising tone, the one that Toji has become so dreadfully accustomed to.

“Delayed for who?” He eyes you, up and down. “You’re loving every second of this.”

You giggle again. “Oh, come on,” you beckon. “Don’t you want to know how good it feels?” One of your hands drops down his torso and Toji’s eyes follow just in time to see it curl its fingers around the drooling head of his cock. “Being denied over and over, that tension building higher and higher each time…” His jaw quivers when you slowly twist your wrist. “How sensitive you get, how desperate…” You drag and pull. Twist again. “And the rush of not knowing if this time you’ll get to cum…”

Toji grunts as his dick slaps against his stomach.

“Or be denied again!” Your laugh then is inevitable, but still it feels too sweet and innocent of a sound, given the cause of it is a man’s torment.

“Okay, enough. You’ve made your point,” Toji says in a flurry, before you can add anything else. “Stop talking and just…” You hear him swallow and study the way it makes the muscles of his neck ripple. “Show me.”

Those two words are the starting pistol to your well-earned entertainment — and Toji’s well-deserved misery. Your experienced and adaptable hands, paired with your watchful eyes and insatiable desire to inflict suffering, make for a dangerous concoction. And the fact that Toji is oblivious to that knowledge just makes the thrill of it all the more invigorating. Still, you pace yourself; remind yourself that patience may be bitter, but its fruit is sweet and lies waiting for you. Time is the least of your worries and the forest around you topples amidst the routine you’ve choreographed for you both. You work him up, soaking in his helplessness, and pull the floor out from under him when he’s at his most vulnerable, watching how that helplessness snowballs and the cycle repeats; watching him groan, gasp, whimper and curse under his breath. Like a feline playing with its food, you relish every moment of it, all while dreaming of how good it will taste once you finally feast.

“Close, so close, so close,” Toji mumbles. “M’gonna cum–”

Your hand jolts away from his dripping cock and with it, Toji’s hips buck up so hard, so desperately, that your knees lose contact with the ground for a second.

“How many times is that now?” you ask. You already know how many, you just want to make him say it.

Body slack against the tree, Toji’s eyes blink slowly at you. “F–four,” he says with a weak wince. “Fuck. When are you gonna let me cum?”

You make a contemplative noise. “I don’t know,” you say as you boredly doodle patterns on Toji’s shirt. “Maybe after… four or five more times?”

“You’re fucking joking,” Toji chokes out in disbelief, but that sincere gleam in your eyes stays. He runs a palm down his face. You don’t miss the way his tinted face saturates. “That’s– nine times? Are you crazy? That’s not–” His throat feels like it’s all dried up. He steadies his voice. “There’s… no way I’m waiting that long.”

“No?” you echo, your eyebrows raised. “Is it too much to handle for Two-Minute-Toji?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Toji hisses. “It’s nothing to do with me. You’re just insane.”

So defensive, you think, amused, but don’t let it show. Instead, you sit back thoughtfully. “I guess you have a point,” you agree. Meanwhile, your hands gain a mind of their own, caressing his hips, abdomen, inner thighs; brushing up against his dick every so often. “Four times is already quite a lot…” Finally, your gaze falls to your unforgiving fingers, where you’ve been toying at the cusp of Toji’s composure. “Just one more then,” you compromise and glimpse at Toji.

He doesn’t hide the irritated noise he makes at your offer, but he does think twice about his instinctual reply — which ends up being futile, since he chooses to say it anyway.

“You’re delusional if you think I’ll agree to that.”

You tilt your head and blink at him. “So… you want to cum now, is what you’re saying?” you ask, and Toji opens his mouth to answer but you suddenly grab his cock with a tight fist — and not the pleasurable kind. His jaw clamps shut, a slice of whistling air rushing in through his teeth. A paw-like hand whips out next, attempting to get rid of yours, but you slap it away and use your other hand to engulf the head of his cock in just as cruel a hold.

“Would cumming now make the spoiled mutt happy?” you mock.

His attempts to remove your hands persist, but each time you just push him away and squeeze harder. “Ah, shit, that fucking– hurts, you asshole! Let go–”

“Answer the question first,” you say sternly.

Toji’s thighs are thrashing now, and his hands have resorted to clinging onto your arms. His breaths leave him as hard as if he was on the verge of climax; the irony makes you laugh inwardly.

“Fuck, fine,” Toji heaves. “Yes, yes I want to cum now. Let me cum. Please.”

You keep your hands on him for a second longer than probably necessary before finally letting go. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you say with a grin.

Talking back again crosses Toji’s mind, but he thinks better of it. “Whatever. Just… get on with it already.”

As with the previous four times, getting him to the edge again doesn’t take long. Especially since now you’re armed with the knowledge of where he’s most sensitive, what he likes best and how much to do of each to get the most debauched sounds out of him. You have him panting and rolling his hips in time with your hands in just a few short minutes. One hand on your shoulder, the other carving gashes into a tree root bulging out of the soil; a reminder of Toji Fushiguro’s monstrous nature.

It’s easy to forget you’re taming a beast when he’s so pathetic all of the time.

“Ah, ah, I’m close,” Toji moans. His knuckles go taut-white, then relax, then repeat. In the throes of pleasure, his baritone voice has softened into something lighter. “F–fuck, I’m gonna cum! I wan– I wanna cum!”

The next upward stroke of your hand slides the rest of the way off, yet again depriving Toji of the orgasm he keeps chasing. In its absence, the reddened tip of his cock drools a drop of precum.

Toji shouts, gravelly and breathless, into the open air. “No! No, what– what the fuck?!” There seems to be a wetness in his eyes, but you think it could just be a trick of the light. “You… you said you’d let me cum this time!”

“Did I say that?” you muse — recalling very vividly, in fact, that you conveniently never said those words. Whether or not that was on purpose is anybody’s guess, since you doubt Toji’s foggy brain remembers such semantics. “I don’t think I did.”

Toji scowls at you, but his aggravation runs off of you like water on a duck’s back; you can’t take him too seriously when his face is so flushed, cheeks practically aglow with colour and slowly spreading down his neck. A quick tongue swipes over his lips, which have gone dry from the progressively increasing frequency of open-mouthed noises.

Out of something akin to instinct or impulse, you find yourself leaning in — close. Until you’re brushing noses, lips only inches from each other, sharing the same breath of air. Silver-blue eyes flick down your face and linger a little too long to be accidental.

You pull away, laughing.

“You are way too fun to toy with,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Toji before looking up at him. “Did you think I was gonna kiss you just then?”

“No,” Toji sputters out, appearing offended that you would even think such a thing. “I’d bite your tongue off if you tried.”

His threat only makes you chuckle. “We’ll see how much longer you can keep up that attitude,” you say, scrunching up the front of his t-shirt in your fist, “once I’m through with you.”

Your lips collide so immediately that you almost don’t realise Toji is the one to close the final rift of space between you. Like a volatile chemical reaction, the kiss escalates. Potent, rabid, vulgar. Animalistic. Teeth nip at flesh, blood and saliva blend and smear down chins.

At the same time, your hand occupies itself with the same delectable song and dance you’ve come to know so well. The prelude — an open palm, skimming across the head of Toji’s cock; a dainty back and forth, like a bow across violin strings, and Toji’s noises a melody writing itself on your lips. You steer the flow of his sound like a conductor with a symphony, building the bridge, climbing towards the chorus, the crescendo just in sight… Then with a flourish, it all descends back down again, hushed into a temporary interlude, before ebbing into a reprise. Over and over, you play this orchestrated tune; over and over and over, until each note has been played to its fullest and rang out into silence.

Eventually, you get up.

Left in your wake, beneath you, Toji is a mess of the man he was. Eyes glazed over. Lips pink and damp. Cock blushing, slick, swollen. Hips jumping in search of relief. It took denying him almost ten times, but regardless, he’s all yours now. Pliant and at your mercy, like a common prey animal.

“Roll over, boy,” you say, just like you would to an actual dog, as you make a circling gesture with your finger. “I want you on your hands and knees.” You tap his bare thigh with the side of your shoe. “Go on. Hands and knees. Like a good little dog.”

Shakily, Toji turns around. Soil pools around his knees where they sink. One hand wraps around that same scratched up root from before, the other braces against the base of the tree. His head hangs limp between his shoulders.

You kneel behind him and tug his underwear down his toned thighs. Goosebumps multiply over Toji’s exposed skin, first at the breeze that briefly grazes it, next at the fingers that replace it. Both your hands span out across the expanse of Toji’s ass, a soothing sensation against the goosebumps despite being so foreign to him. Your thumbs wander away from the rest of your fingers and toward the patch of skin between his tail and the base of his spine. Experimentally, the pads of your thumbs grind down into it.

Toji makes a noise that could arguably be classified as a yelp and his tail bushes up, almost hitting you in the face with how skittishly it swings out.

“W–watch it,” Toji whinges. “Don’t be so rough.”

“Oh? Is it sensitive?” you taunt.

Even now, on all fours with his bare ass in front of you, the embers of Toji’s pride prevent him from admitting even the slightest implications of weakness. You, however, are no stranger to such behaviour, and do not let it deter you from your goal.

Your thumbs continue wandering, dipping below his tail. They rotate inward, pulling apart the thick meat of his ass to reveal a soft, puckered hole. You succumb to temptation and prod at it. It tenses, along with the rest of Toji’s muscles.

Toji turns his head over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he breathes, almost sounding worried or angry, definitely trying to sound assertive — but you can tell he’s more nervous than anything. Flustered, even.

You pause. “Do you want me to stop?”

His features contort, as if perplexed. “It’s weird.” He turns back around. “Don’t even know why you would wanna touch back there.”

The reason is simple to you. “Because it feels good.” Thoughtlessly, you knead your thumb against the virgin hole, observing how it clenches, as if inviting you in. “Inside, I mean,” you clarify.

“Ins– inside?” Toji repeats, like the concept is unfathomable to him. “Like, inside of– me?”

“Yeah,” you deadpan, though, admittedly, you are somewhat entertained. Perhaps he truly is so oblivious that it skews his logical thinking, but you suspect that the true cause is the lust that clouds his mind. Whether from his need for release or from a late-onset sexual epiphany, you find it almost endearing how naïve and innocent his response makes him seem. “So… Can I keep going?”

“Uh…” Toji, subconsciously, it seems, arches his back ever so slightly in your direction. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters.

“In that case,” you usher and place a hand between his shoulder blades, “lower your chest for me some more.”

With the sheer density of muscle fibre beneath your fingertips alone, those defined contours mapped out across his broad back, visible even through his clothes, you expect some resistance — but he gives like freshly fallen snow, without so much as a groan of indignation, and yields his form until he’s flush with the ground.

In this position, he opens up on his own. Hole lewdly exposed, as if presenting to you. His tail hangs over it, out of humiliation or to protect his dignity you assume, but with one simple order, you have Toji holding it out of the way for you, making him appear even more pathetic.

Leaning over him, you trickle some saliva onto Toji’s hole. It spasms as the fluid lands on it.

“Did you just spit on–” Toji cuts himself off with an exasperated sigh. “That’s… fucking disgusting.”

“Your tail seems to think otherwise,” you retort, referring to how the appendage subtly wags.

Toji buries his face in the crook of one arm. “That thing’s got a mind of its own.”

Ever so slightly poking out over the top of his bicep, however, is the scarlet tip of one ear.

You chuckle. “Sure.”

With that, you run a fingertip through the slimy fluid, collecting it from where it started dripping down his taint and spreading it out. Tentatively, you nudge your finger inside. The muscle clenches at the breach.

“Relax,” you tell Toji.

He grunts. “What do you think I’m tryna do?”

A rare streak of sympathy has your other hand reaching down to Toji’s cock and planting a few distracting touches. Slowly, the stiffness around your finger eases up, and steadily, you push past each knuckle until it’s seamlessly tucked away inside.

“How much longer…” A soft moan reverberates in the back of Toji’s throat as your finger pulls out of him. “‘T–til I can cum?”

You hum and give a few slothful pumps. “Between two minutes and two hours.” Toji’s subsequent groan of protest makes your smile stretch out like a cat. “Why? You’re not at your limit, are you?”

“You kidding? I could–” You sneak another finger on the next slide in and Toji shudders, gulps. “I could do this all day,” he finishes quietly.

The hand on his dick stops its task momentarily to lather Toji’s precum over your two fingers. You scissor them attentively, observing Toji’s facial reactions; as much as you can, at least, given he’s concealing them. Luckily, though, it seems you won’t need them anyway, with how the rest of his body is uncovering all those secrets for him — the fingers around his tail flexing, hips rocking back against your fingers, dick leaking incessantly despite your minimal touches. To think he’s already so weak to his lustful desires when you haven’t even skirted that particular place inside him; the one you’ve intentionally been avoiding.

“Are you sure you can take any more?” you tease. “It seems to me like–”

“I can take whatever you give me,” Toji interrupts gratingly.

You wonder if he can hear how ruined he sounds, but suppose that even if he does, he likely doesn’t see the humour in it that you do.

“We’ll see about that.”

After adding some more spit, you’re easing in a third finger. Just as you predicted, Toji’s body wriggles more restlessly under you. Breaths staggering as you bump into the hilt of your fingers. You bend them probingly and it lures out a fluttery moan.

Your eyes flit over Toji’s form, lips taking the shape of a salacious smile. “How are you doing over there?”

But before he has the time to even think of a witty reply, he’s tearing new claw marks into the tree bark and whining out, not unlike a dog in heat — which, in some ways, is not far from reality.

“Wow. I didn’t think you were capable of making a sound like that,” you comment. In truth, you’ve always had a knack for turning even the most unsuspecting of victims into your needy little toys; the only difference between them is how long it takes to do so. “Mind making it again?” you purr.

Regardless of what Toji’s answer may have been — though you predict it would have been something snippy or dismissive — your fingers are once again prying out a frail whine from him as he barely manages to maintain his grip on his tail.

You pull your fingers out, almost all the way, and when you push them back in again, you have your pinky finger join, poking at the edge of Toji’s entrance. “Think you can take one more?”

Toji whimpers at your suggestion. “Fuck, yes please,” he begs — something even you had begun doubting you could get him to do, and so is all the more gratifying to hear.

And just like that, you have the deadly mercenary, Toji Fushiguro, better known as Hellhound, the mighty Sorcerer Killer, riding four of your fingers like he was made for nothing else. Whining and whimpering — two things that no one would believe he did if you told them. Dribbling a puddle of his arousal into the dirt below him even in the absence of your hand. Tail jerking uncontrollably, occasionally slipping from his hold and earning himself an admonishing spank, which only serves to break him down further.

A shaking hand clasps onto your wrist, driving its thrusting motions harder and deeper into himself. “God, I’m gonna cum,” Toji sobs. “Please let me cum, please, please.”

His words make you realise that you never actually answered his question from before. Not really, not seriously. In the grand scheme of things, sure, it was always in your plan to let him cum; an irrefutable certainty. And, as large as your appetite is, you’ve had your fill now — are brimming with it, in fact — but Toji doesn’t know that, and that’s what makes you smile. Even now, you long to overflow with the joy of terrorising him. Even now, you fail to turn a deaf ear to the siren call of your deepest, darkest, most lecherous desires. In all your differences, this weakness, this unquenchable yearning of the flesh, is one that you and Toji are both cursed with.

You lean over the muscular man below you, just enough so your hot breath beats over his back. “Only good dogs get to cum,” you murmur as your fingers bully that awfully euphoric cluster of nerves, “and good dogs can beg better than that.”

Sweat permeates off him in waves and you can’t tell if the goosebumps on his skin are from the outdoor air blowing on the moisture or from the embarrassment of the demeaning act that he’s about to commit, all to appease his meagre human wants.

Cheek trapped against the dirt, Toji’s teeth flash on full display as he whimpers out. “Ahh, fuck, m’sorry… I don’t deserve it… but please let me– let me cum.” Wet eyelashes, all clumped together and satiny, flutter as Toji’s eyes fight to stay open. “M’so sorry. I’ll do anything, please.”

Anything. So vague and all-encompassing; only a small-minded fool would make the mistake of promising ‘anything’. And small-minded fools? Well, you’re not one yourself, but you certainly know your way around making one. And Toji Fushiguro, your latest little project, is no exception, it seems; he may not know it, but he’s just fulfilled a bittersweet prophecy.

Indeed — ‘anything’ is a truly wonderful word.

“Yeah?” Your pace slows until the sight of Toji’s hole, puffy, stretched and clinging around your fingers, is trackable in immensely vivid and erotic detail. “Will you be my little lapdog?” you chirrup, light and honey-sweet, as if to a beloved pet. “Obey my every word, fulfil my every wish? Be mine and no one else’s?”

The precipitation on Toji’s nape glistens as he feverishly nods his head and pushes back harder onto your fingers. “Yes, yes, I will, I am. I’m yours. All yours.”

From the cunning and brutish Hellhound, Killer of Sorcerers, the half-wolf half-man who is both feared and revered for his domineering power and cutthroat personality, you have sculpted a disciplined and docile little plaything. An irredeemable mongrel, whose generous master’s firm, wise hand has trained him into a lovely pet, worthy of being called a…

“Good boy.”

Toji’s tail convulses between his fingers.

You grin. “Go ahead,” you say with a final encouraging slap to Toji’s ass. “Let it all out for me, pup.”

And he does — so abruptly and intensely that his trembling thighs almost give under him, practically held up by the hand on his tail alone. He cries out so loud that drool flies from his lip and his voice is followed by a slight echo on the wind. Soreness is already making itself known in your wrist, but you don’t stop; you milk him for all he’s worth, coaxing out every last drop until Toji is laying in a heap of soil and his own spend, groaning and pushing your hand away.

From your coat, you fish out a handkerchief and wipe your hands. Then you move Toji onto his back to do the same for him. A ritualistic process that brings a kind of peace to your otherwise tireless, whirring thoughts.

“Sit up for me,” you tell Toji, with a pat to his thigh.

With some help, he does. You smile and rummage through your pockets, searching for… Ah, there it is!

You take out the circular object and shift towards Toji. With practised efficiency, you secure it around his neck and lean back to appreciate the sight: sturdy ebony leather with intricately engraved symbols, topped off with silver fastenings. Such a pretty collar looks perfectly at home on him.

“What– what is this?” Toji slurs.

You stand up and stroll a few feet away from Toji, who’s bound to where he is in his weak post-orgasm state. Unhurriedly, you slide out a cigarette and prop it between your lips. In the corner of your eye, you make sure Toji is looking at you before you hover a finger beneath your cigarette. From it, a flame manifests and lights the butt.

Witnessing horror formulate on a face like Toji’s — on the face of a man like Toji — is nothing less than beautiful. You would pay good money to experience it for the first time again; to pinpoint the moment he comes to realise the terrible situation he’s found himself in, so you can cherish it from start to finish, all over again.

“You’re…” Toji’s shocked tone bleeds into one of ire; his wide eyes shrink into slits. “A Jujutsu Sorcerer.”

Wreathed smoke billows out of your mouth as you chuckle. “That’s right.” You cross your arms, menacing eyes flitting over Toji. “And now, you’re my cute little pet.”

“Pet?” Toji scoffs. “I kill your kind for a living. You think I’m just gonna take this shit from you?” Toji’s hands scramble up the tree behind him as he goes to get up. “You’re fucking dead, Sorcerer. Ya hear me? D–”

He yells out as he falls back down, fur standing on end from the scorching pain that pulses out of the collar around his neck. He wheezes and claws at the leather, curved black nails piercing into glowing red runes — but the pain only amplifies. He tries and tries, but the only damage he succeeds to inflict is a few nicks on his own skin.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Brute force just makes the hex stronger,” you warn with a misleadingly charming smirk. “You’re more likely to cut your own throat open before you manage to put a single split in that collar.”

You would know — it’s not the first time you’ve used it — but Toji, stubborn as ever, continues to wrestle against the collar’s spell until he’s purple in the face. Veins bulging and eyes watery. Clambering to his feet only to tumble back down again, like a baby deer learning to walk.

Eventually, though, he does stop — but he wouldn’t be Toji Fushiguro without maintaining that defiant expression, even while in such a pitiful state.

“I do feel sorry for you, you know,” you admit as you approach Toji, who, going by his expression, doesn’t believe you one bit, “but you must understand, I’m the type of person who always gets what they want.”

“And what’s that, huh?” Toji snipes. “F’me to be your fuckin’ sex slave? Someone to play out all your sick fantasies and take your frustrations out on? ‘That it?”

“Silly dog,” you playfully reprimand and roughly tousle Toji’s already dishevelled hair. He snatches his head away from your touch. “The means don’t always signify the end,” you continue as you saunter past Toji. “Just because I used sexual methods doesn’t mean I have sexual intentions.”

Toji glares at you, half puzzled and half — just straight up pissed. “So what then? What do you want from me?”

Your lips curve around the cigarette before you exhale with a cloudy chuckle. “Oh, you really are adorable sometimes, you know that?”

“Stop fuckin’ around and tell me already,” Toji snarls, teeth bared.

Blatantly dismissing his words, you gradually walk back to Toji and tilt forward over him. “Feisty, aren’t you?” you sneer at him — a callback to the same words he said to you at the start of your encounter. And one that Toji recognises, going by his strained composure. “It’s simple really,” you say conversationally as you straighten back up. “I heard the name ‘Hellhound’, saw the word ‘anything’ next to ‘for the right price’ and I was intrigued. I wanted to have you for myself. To tame the wild beast, defeat the undefeated ‘Sorcerer Killer’. That’s all.” You shrug. “I’m just fortunate I could afford such a conquest.” You smirk down at him. “You sure know how to drive a hard bargain, don’t you, puppy?”

Toji swallows, the action undulating through his throat. His tongue flicks out over his lips. His eyebrows knit densely. “You hired me?”

You blink at him. “Was that not obvious?” you say with a bashful laugh. “Ah, I really did try not to seem too prepared but I’m just a humble Sorcerer! Not an actor.”

As if still processing what’s happening, Toji just stares at you. You half-expect him to blow up any second, but that doesn’t discourage you from provoking him a little more. “I know what you’re thinking,” you say, and on its own, it’s true, but it’s more fun to pretend that it’s not. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get the second half of the deposit, even though– you know, I’m still alive.”

You laugh again and Toji’s eye twitches at the repetitive sound. He doesn’t see what you find so fucking funny that you need to laugh every five seconds but he wishes you’d just shut up already.

“You’re outta your fucking mind,” he whispers bitterly, like a too-late realisation.

“I am, aren’t I?” you quip back with a beaming closed-eye grin. “But don’t act like you’re any better.” Another callback, and just in case it doesn’t ring any bells, you press your shoe down on Toji’s crotch, where the head of his still-pink cock pokes out of his underwear, on display through his unzipped trousers. Like a panther pouring out of the shadows, your teeth reveal themselves from behind your lips in a hungry, bordering on starved, smile. “I’m not the one who’s got a second hard-on right now.”

Your acknowledgement persuades a drop of precum to shyly gather at the tip, triggering an even more shy press of thighs around your shoe. When that fails to sufficiently conceal his shame, Toji grits his teeth and whips his head away from you — but you won’t allow that.

After a final puff of smoke, you grasp Toji’s face and force it back into place: laid bare before you, tear tracks on his dirtied cheeks, dried blood under his nose, eyelashes still shiny with the evidence of his desperation. “Be a good pet,” you say as you hover your burning cigarette above his lips, “and open your mouth for your master.”

His teeth gnash together stubbornly, but, ultimately, he follows your command. Jaw falling open, tongue drooping over his lip, eyes gazing up at you, expectant and waiting. Eagerly waiting.

You make him wait no longer; you bring down the lit end of your cigarette onto Toji’s inviting tongue and twist it. The embers hiss and sizzle, branding a small scarlet circle into the pink muscle. As you pull out the cigarette, satisfied, you tell him:

“That’s my good boy.”

taglist. @jazzyluuv @mysicklove @starrierknight @kentophilia @vampcubus @d7dream @feruza22 <3

[acid-ixx]

Planned Fanfics !

ft. platonic/ yandere batfam, superfam, villains, au's & many more!

— Disclaimer! This contains massive spoilers and all my plans for future works that I'll soon publish. This is posted because I wish to update my readers upon the contents of what I'm working to write and for them to leave inputs and whatnot. Sorry for the delays and all, life is hectic and as much as I love writing, I also have a life outside of this site sadly. By the way, this is not even half of my drafts and if anyone is interested in the things written beneath here, then please do tell!

To Be His Child is All I want (A&A, Chapter 5): Confronting Jason, one of your brothers who played a role in neglecting you, and being partly the reason why you ventured out the manor to seek love, away from the unhealthy environment, was no easy task. Back and forths with him, and reasoning why you don't wish to return back 'home' only poured fire into the flames of your already aching heart, as you scream about only wishing to be loved by even a fraction of the compassion Bruce feels for all his other children was all you needed to feel happy in life. It was enough to leave Jason breathless, muddled with emotions he couldn't quite grasp.

As you drown in a seamless fit of arguing and sobbing into the arms of your brother, the manor holds a meeting regarding your sudden disappearance. Bruce is promptly disappointed at Jason's absence; the others are just as intrigued with Dick and Damian's urgency to find you. Yet all are unbeknownst to your plans of escape, and most especially to a certain Kryptonian's scheme to have you in his arms all for himself.

Family Dinner (A&A): Silly, old you can't seem to stomach the fact that they're all looking at you now at the elongated table when months ago you were a mere ghost in their eyes whilst they chatter happily amongst each other. Unfamiliar with how communicating with a family who estranged you works; you end up having a panic attack in the middle of dinner when Damian attempted to hug you.

To Love and To Cherish (Random): Bruce Wayne loves his spouse and everything about them. They're everything desirable in his eyes and he couldn't help the urges that keeps him running back to you every time he patrols to ensure not only the safety of Gotham, but for the sake of his growing plans to fully integrate you as a full-time house spouse. The problem Bruce faces, though, is that he's not actually married to you, yet, and you're unaware of his prying eyes on your form as you live alone in your shabby apartment.

Flowers on My Grave (A&A, Hanahaki AU): Flowers don't only bloom inside your lungs when you're rejected by someone you love romantically, they can also manifest through platonic love unrequited. Vomiting a bouquet of yellow carnations and an arraw of purple and blue hyacinths, you set to sever the bond of love you once felt for them once and for all.

Cold House, Lone Spouse (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): You come home from Clark's farm to sleep in your own room to make sure nobody suspects a thing; expecting to power through the pain of loneliness in your room. But you end up waking up to Bruce's body pressed against your back and his arms caging you, unrelenting in its pursuit to make sure you never seek out another man's hold again.

Once Your Son, Always Your Son (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): Your routine with your beloved son, Jon, leaves nothing else to be desired as you set about your usual nightly schedule of helping him clean up, fix his bed, and read him bedtime stories— something you've grown accustomed to love naturally as being a parent does. But when Damian comes to visit you once Jon falls asleep, he enviously demands you do the same to him and to return to the manor where a better family is waiting for you.

The Confrontation (Loving Family Unpalatable Desire): Clark's night with you always ends up with him hovering above your body, kissing all the exposed parts of your skin, and worshipping your body which lays upon his bed every night. It's the perfect fantasy, yet it's promptly shattered when he sees the familiar silhouette of his comrade, clad in all black, demanding that Clark returns his spouse back in his arms; as if he's not the very same man who left you all alone that night at the gala, available for taking.

A Father's Strange Case of Gift Giving (A&A): To make it up to you, Bruce tries to spoil you rotten with a bottomless allowance and unrestricted access to all his credit cards. Even a mansion built on your name is built as one of the family's vacation houses. One unsettling fact, though, is Bruce's proficiency of capturing every detail of all things you prefer in such a short span of time after kidnapping you. (i.e. You're unaware of the cameras planted in every corner of your room trying to capture the things that makes you smile).

Mind Games and Mind Control (Brutus): What if it were The Riddler and Scarecrow who saved you from nearly dying? With your emotional reception, and both their wits, you end up stirring more trouble for Gotham's vigilantes. But during times where you've nothing to do but watch as both villains enact upon their master plans, itching to satisfy the ache of bloodlust coursing through your veins, you start to notice the abrupt bouts of energy they exert upon tormenting whoever stares at you (sitting comfortably on a cushioned couch, treated like royalty no less) or talks behind your back— crazed for your words of approval and praise as if it's not them who are capable enough of controlling you instead.

The Powered, and the Powerless (Random, Romantic Batfam): During the night, they are your city's saviors, the light that shines bright on darkness, the hope that never wavers through moments of fear. Daytime, meanwhile, they're portrayed as a rich, socialite family who donate millions on charity and everything that promotes good costs. Power comes to them naturally, and praise is served to most of them in a silver platter for all their hard work. You can even say their status is akin to that of Gods, except you don't think of them the same way others do; choosing to utilize your immense knowledge of internet safety to publish articles and conspiracies pertaining to each member of the Wayne family through anonymous forums. Yet all this results in their interest in your secret identity.

Fate Unwanted (Random, Soulmate AU): You're a simple person living on the outskirts of an unnamed town on the boundaries of Gotham. Curious on why your parents are protective of you, forcing you to live with countless of strick rules written boldly on paper and plastered on the front of your refrigerator, and why you just can't seem to produce or perceive any soulmate bond; you set out on a mission to find the mysteries of your unmarked soul. Little did you know that the strangers you stumble upon who chose to assist you on your journey, all from every city and every known state, have found their soulmate that they're unwilling to share.

[suzukiblu]

. . . anyway LISTEN I told 'yall November was gonna be "obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU" month, and I really did not INTEND to post my daily words for it again this year but also, like, fuck it, we ball. No promises I will update EVERY day this time around but again: fuck it, we ball. ( also uhhhhh I've been writing this fic kinda-sorta-semi out of order lately but there is still a significant chunk of word count I'd already written that I would've pre-gamed and posted YESTERDAY if I'd thought I was gonna be doing this, sooooo hope nobody minds us kickin' off the month with like an extra 5.9k on top of the 1.6k of obligatory sugar that I ACTUALLY wrote today behind this here cut? yes? no?? Bueller???? )

get sugared, Super-boytoy. Tim, you just . . . you just do your future-supervillain best over there, buddy. you just do what you can with yourself. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I wanted to,” Tim says again, and Kon glances away and bites his lip, turning the flowers by the stem again. 

“It’s, uh–pretty,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean, it’s–cool. Thanks.” 

“If I can’t bring you fresh ones, well . . .” Tim shrugs. Kon glances back to him, and very briefly presses one of the orchid blooms against his own mouth. His face is still all flushed and his eyes are still a little soft, and it’s . . . it makes a picture, alright, even if it's not one Tim's specifically set up to take. Especially with the gold eyeliner and his blue eyes both matching the orchids. 

Tim didn't plan that, obviously, but he thinks it makes up for the sapphire versus ruby thing.

“Um . . .” Kon trails off, biting his lip. Glances down at the orchids from under his lashes. It doesn't make him any less of a picture, for sure. “So, um–do you wanna see the ‘something nice’ I got?” 

Tim blinks, immediately thinks of the most embarrassing option that Kon could possibly mean, and desperately tries to fight back a mortified flush at the idea. But, well–everything he can see Kon wearing is something he remembers buying him already, so . . . 

Oh god, he needs his brain to shut up right now. Immediately. Right now and immediately and forever. 

“Sure,” he says like a normal person, trying not to panic. “What is it?” 

Kon, thank god, pulls a little rectangular package inexplicably–and inexpertly–wrapped in newspaper comics out of the same coat pocket he tucked the jewelry box in. There's plain white string tied around it in a bow. 

Tim . . . blinks. 

If he didn't know better, he'd think Kon had . . . 

“I, um, got you something?” Kon says, and Tim stares blankly at the package. He–what? “For once, anyway. Well, I guess, uh, technically you got it for yourself, and actually this is kinda stupid maybe, you can literally just get yourself whatever you want whenever, obviously, but I just thought, uh–” 

“You got me something?” Tim repeats in surprise. Kon turns pink and shoves the package at him. Tim is too bewildered not to take it. 

“I thought it’d be, uh–fun,” he says, biting his lip and still very visibly blushing. “I mean–that we could have some fun with it. Y’know?” 

Tim stares at the package for another moment, then looks up at Kon. Alright, this maybe isn’t exactly the vibe he was going for here in terms of who’s paying for what and who’s giving things to who, but . . . well, Kon apparently used his allowance for whatever this is, at least, which gives him a reason to have wanted the allowance, so . . . he can work with that, he figures. Like, it’s an “in” to work from; a step in the process. 

He can’t tell what Kon’s gotten him from the shape of the package, though the edges are hard even though it doesn’t feel like it’s in a box or anything. “Have some fun” isn’t much of a clue, though he supposes it does imply something interactive. Maybe it’s a game of some kind, or–

Tim unties the bow and splits apart the clumsy seam of the comic-page wrapping paper with his thumb, tugging through its layers to reveal the package’s contents, and Kon flushes a little darker and watches him just a little bit nervously. 

Tim doesn’t actually know what to say. 

“I just thought, um, a real one’d probably take better pictures than a phone can,” Kon says sheepishly, slanting his eyes away and half-hiding his face behind the orchids. “I made sure the battery was charged and the guy at the store said it's got a lot of storage, I guess, so . . .” 

“You got me a camera,” Tim says blankly, which is the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him short of, like . . . no, it’s pretty much just the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. By far it’s the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. 

“You like taking pictures, right?” Kon fidgets a little, then smiles just barely shyly as he glances back at him. Tim's heart skips a few beats. Or more than just “a few”, maybe. “So, um–I thought maybe we could go do that . . . somewhere. You know, after dinner.” 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him a little stupidly. It’s not a particularly good camera, honestly–like, it’s a perfectly functional model for casual amateur use and a decently reliable commercial brand, but he’s got much better ones that are all professional-quality. He hasn’t used any of them in a while and most of them are admittedly a few years old now, but . . . yeah, this was a hundred bucks max, if that, and his cheapest camera was over five hundred. 

Note to self: raise Kon’s allowance. 

Also, apparently now his favorite camera is the kind of camera civilian amateurs just take random family photos on. Apparently that’s a thing. 

Tim really doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Kon not only remembered something he mentioned having an interest in, Kon bothered to actually get him something he thought he’d have an interest in. That is really, really not the dynamic he’s been encouraging here, for one thing. And also, why even would Kon do that? Like–really? 

“Thanks,” Tim says sincerely, turning the camera over in his hands and feeling incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “I love it.” 

“Cool,” Kon says, biting his lip around a smile. His face is still a little pink and he looks all soft and pretty like that, especially with the flowers still in his hand. Tim really was not prepared for Kon having “soft and pretty” in his repertoire. Like, that was not a thing he ever expected to see from his cocky, crowing brawler of a teammate. 

Kon’s only a brawler because he thinks he’s supposed to be, though, Tim’s pretty sure. Like–increasingly sure, at this point. 

He really, really needs to figure out how to get Kon to tell Robin more about his TTK. Or, like . . . anything about it, apparently. Just literally any single thing, at this point. 

“Thank you,” he says again, inspecting the camera assessingly and making note of all its functions and ports and the generally obvious basics. “We could go take some shots around downtown later, if you’re up for that?” 

Kon turns bright red, and Tim doesn’t understand for about half a second before remembering–the last time Kon had talked to him about taking pictures, he’d offered . . . 

Oh Jesus. 

Tim is either incredibly stupid or–actually, he doesn’t even know. Lucky? Embarrassing? The dumbest moron alive who didn’t even realize he was being flirted with again? All those things and several even worse ones? 

Kon had offered to let him take spicy pics of him the last time they'd talked about taking pictures, whatever “spicy” means to Kon–brash, impulsive, shameless Kon–and Tim’s the idiot whose first thought upon Kon following up that conversation by very literally giving him a camera was to go take pictures of fucking downtown.

He is the most useless “sugar daddy” to ever sugar. 

Well, to be fair, it is Gotham downtown, so it’s very–

“I like taking pictures of streets and buildings,” he blurts belatedly, fumbling to sound like just the oblivious idiot that he is and not some kind of weird fucking perv who’s trying to get Kon arrested for public indecency. Jesus, he’s stupid. “And people-watching is interesting too. You know, stuff like that.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and looks several ways at once, including both a little relieved and a little disheartened, which . . . okay, Tim would literally die if they actually went somewhere to take spicy pics tonight, so is unfortunately unavoidable. He’s not trying to make Kon not feel–attractive or anything, but he needs at least twenty-four hours to make a plan and also two or three or seventeen contingency plans before . . . anything like that happens. Ever. Even in theory. “Um–yeah, sure. That sounds cool.” 

“Cool,” Tim says, still desperately pretending to be an idiot. It’s not hard, on account of the fact that he very much is an idiot. 

Kon pauses for a moment, then perks up a little, seeming to think of something, and asks–“When’s dinner?” 

“Our reservation’s in forty-five minutes,” Tim says, double-checking the time on his phone just to be sure. “Well, forty-six. I figured that’d let us take our time walking over and maybe we could window-shop a little on the way.” 

And also shop-shop a lot, if Kon gives him literally even the slightest indication that he wants or needs something. Just if it comes up or anything. That’s all. 

Tim definitely did plan their route to the restaurant to cut straight through the middle of the downtown shopping district, either way. 

“We could’ve just met there, dude,” Kon says wryly, but grins anyway, glancing down at the orchids in his hand again. “Forty-six minutes, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Tim confirms. 

“And you like taking pictures of streets and buildings?” Kon asks, his grin turning just a little bit sly. Tim frowns briefly in confusion, not sure what the grin’s about. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Gotham has a lot of really interesting architecture and design. Like, it’s an old city, and one that’s been pretty resistant to updates in a lot of areas or just not had the money for those updates. So you get a lot of places with a lot of character and it’s basically the bastard child of gothic and art deco design with a side of industrial warehouse, depending on the part of town you’re in. Like, Crime Alley and the Diamond District have very different vibes, but they’re both very Gotham vibes, if you know what to look for. It’s–” 

Kon is grinning really widely at him, for some reason. Tim realizes he’s rambling like a moron and turns red. 

“Uh,” he says, repressing a wince. “Yes. Yeah. I like taking pictures of streets and buildings.” 

“Cool,” Kon says, and then he carefully packs the orchids back into their box and it back into the gift bag and transfers the chocolates and jewelry back into it too, then grins even wider at him as he hooks the bag’s handles over his arm and into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t drop the camera, babe.” 

“Wha–” Tim starts to say, and then Kon grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the closest alley, which is terrible survival instincts for Gotham, oh god, but before Tim can say anything about that Kon’s wrapped an arm around his waist just tight enough to just barely lift him off his feet and bolted straight up into the air with him. “Shit!”

Tim doesn’t drop the camera because he’s held onto cameras while falling off literal buildings before, but definitely only because of that. Muscle memory, or whatever. Also he’s been snatched off his feet by Bruce and Dick plenty of times and thrown off rooftops by multiple rogues and thugs over the years and these days gets regularly dragged around by Bart, all while holding very important things he could not afford to drop, so it’s not like either the sudden jolt or the effort to keep his grip on the camera are as disorienting as it otherwise would be. Just . . . 

Ugh, Tim realizes, absolutely unimpressed with himself upon realizing that the breathless feeling he’s having right now is not actually related to the swift and sudden increase in altitude, but is actually just because it’s Kon holding him. 

He is an idiot, isn’t he, he reflects resignedly. Just an actual literal idiot. 

Jesus. 

“Whatcha think?” Kon asks with a grin as he comes to a stop in mid-air with him. He stops very suddenly, but Tim notices a distinct lack of jarring with said stop, which implies Kon’s got his TTK around him again and probably completely around him, which means–

Oh god, Tim thinks, and very quickly makes himself stop thinking about that. 

“It’s cool,” he says, because a normal civilian would think flying was something interesting and unusual, but it’s hard to act too excited about a move Kon probably pulls on literally everyone he–

“I meant the view, babe!” Kon says with a laugh, and Tim . . . blinks. 

And then he looks down. 

They’re hovering a few thousand feet up, and downtown is already lit up bright in the early evening gloom. And Kon . . . 

“Streets and buildings, as ordered,” Kon says, grinning wider with a smug, cocky look on his face. 

Oh no, he’s hot, Tim realizes with dread, and then blinks again. Stares down at the city below, past the whipping wind and down into the busy streets and the bright, dazzling lights cutting through the murky gloom. He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, obviously, because of course he has–he’s been climbing these rooftops for years, and every night he runs across and swings back and forth between them and utterly fails to learn how to do more than a double backflip. 

One day, he promises himself distractedly, and then looks back at Kon. 

He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, but never just because someone thought he’d like it. Like–not like this, he means. Dick's shown him a few particularly special or exhilarating views over the years, yeah, but . . . definitely not like this. Not for a reason like this. 

And definitely not while peacocking all smug and pretty dressed up in clothes that he bought him and holding him close enough to kiss. 

Kon’s expression turns a little sheepish; a little soft. Not quite shy, but . . . 

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice pitched a little quieter, and Tim has the much worse and even more dread-inducing realization of oh no, he’s CUTE.

He swallows, briefly, and feels his face burn. 

“Yeah,” he manages in an almost-normal voice. “I like it.” 

Kon grins at him, brighter than any city light, and Tim barely keeps himself from dropping the camera after all. 

“Thanks,” he attempts awkwardly, making himself focus on the camera and resisting the urge to take an immediate shot of that city-light grin. 

Then he takes one anyway, because of course he does. Kon laughs in surprise, then makes a face at him teasingly. 

“Hey, you can buy this face in any cheap gossip rag, focus on the fun stuff,” he jokes, jerking his head towards the city below. Tim looks searchingly at him for a moment, and then for obvious reasons snaps another picture. Kon flushes a little again. They probably won't even come out from this close, but . . . 

“You’re the most fun I’ve had all week,” Tim says, which is definitely too honest but clearly necessary to make a point of saying. Kon turns redder, ducking his head and grinning around his bitten lip. 

“You don’t have to say that kind of thing to me, man,” he says, and it comes across almost like a reflex. Tim hates . . . yeah, just literally everybody Kon’s ever known in his whole entire life, actually? Like, pretty much everybody? Bart gets a break because he grew up alone in VR and is therefore terrible with people and the girls get a break because they haven’t known any of them that long, but everybody else can just take a long walk off a short gutter, in Tim’s opinion. 

Especially any “everybody” from Cadmus. 

Or Metropolis, at this point. 

“I’m not saying anything I don’t want to say,” he says simply, and goes to the effort to frame a few shots of the skyline so Kon will know he appreciates . . . well, not the angle, exactly, but the thought. 

Technically he is usually on top of a building when he’s doing this, so the angle is actually a slightly different one than he’s used to–not that he’s been taking photos lately, just–not the point, really. Kon got him a camera and brought him up here because he clearly thought he’d like it, and damned if Tim is gonna do anything to make him think he doesn’t. 

He has better cameras for things like this–aerial shots and night photography and long-distance and the like, and better cameras for closeup candids too–but he already knows these pictures are all going to be exactly what he wants them to be, even the ones that don't come out. 

Or especially those, maybe. 

He's not sure how he'd explain that feeling to someone else. 

Kon flies them around, staying out of sight behind the light pollution and among the shadows of the buildings, and Tim takes . . . a lot more pictures than he needs to, actually. He was just trying to make sure Kon knew he appreciated him thinking of him, but actually . . . 

Well. 

It’s fun, that’s all. 

It’s . . . been a while, kinda, since he got to spend this much time on just photography and nothing else. Or–any time at all, really. 

Not that this is nothing else, obviously, given that Kon’s holding him and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything besides that, but it is the kind of a view a standard civilian never gets, and it’s kind of nice to be flying for non-work-related reasons, for once. Like . . . novel, he guesses. A different experience. 

Technically he and Dick do “fly” together just for fun, sometimes, but that’s different. Like–so many kinds of different. It helps them in their work–keeps the rooftops familiar and them both in shape and in sync–but he can’t take photos when he’s trying to keep up with Nightwing across the rooftops of Gotham, and it’s not like Dick’s carrying him either. 

Also, it’s much less flustering and difficult to concentrate through, because again, Dick is not carrying him, and also Dick doesn’t do things like wear clothes he bought or do his eyeliner and paint his nails for him. Or, uh . . . anything like that. 

Also, definitely the “spicy pics” thing is not at all a thing, with Dick. Like, not even slightly, in any way whatsoever. And they’ve also never made out in a changing room or the back of a planetarium or– 

Look, there’s a lot of ways it’s different, okay? 

A lot of ways. 

“I'm not boring you, am I?” Tim asks a little bit sheepishly as Kon lands them on a ledge just behind one of the bigger gargoyles, tucked in tight in the shadows between it and the building it's perched on. “We can probably still fit in some window-shopping before dinner, if you want.” 

“Oh my god, dude, I promise we can do things you don't have to spend money on,” Kon says with a laugh as he lets him down on the ledge. “Though if it helps you technically did spend money on this, given how I got the camera and all.” 

“It's your allowance,” Tim says, because he wants to make sure Kon actually gets that. “You can spend it however you want.” 

“Well, I spent it how I wanted,” Kon says, and then steps closer into his space with a smile. Tim ends up sitting on the gargoyle’s back as Kon leans down to kiss him, and it's not like he's never kissed anyone while perched on a gargoyle before, but somehow it feels like something new anyway. New and electric, bright and easy and smeared with the city lights and thrilling in its shadows, and– 

Kon breaks off the kiss, though he keeps a hand on Tim’s arm, probably to make sure the squishy untrained civilian won't accidentally fall off the ledge and get splatted on the concrete. Tim barely holds himself back from chasing his mouth. 

“It's cool, anyway. Um, doing stuff you're into with you, I mean,” Kon says, looking a little soft and almost-shy again, and never mind, Tim not only needs to chase his mouth, he needs to set up a damn manhunt for it. “You're real cute when you get excited, man. I mean, uh–just–” 

The manhunt is going to require a very significant budget, Tim notes. 

Then he kisses him again, obviously. Kon melts down into it–into him, really–and wraps his arms around his neck, and Tim feels several kind of ways about it. Admittedly, it's the easier option with him sitting on the gargoyle and Kon leaning over him, but Kon's put his arms around his neck a couple of times now, and, well . . . 

That's just not something he would've expected from him, he guesses. Not “cool” or masculine or badass or . . . whatever, exactly, Kon thinks he's supposed to be. 

So Tim . . . likes it, he thinks, that Kon doesn't seem to think he needs to be like that around Tim Drake. 

Robin’s sure as hell never seen Kon in eyeliner. 

Robin's loss, Tim thinks. 

. . . maybe he's compartmentalizing a little too much these days, but still. 

Kon makes a very, very soft little sound between their mouths and then laughs, and Tim promises himself he won't stop at Gotham: he'll take over Metropolis for this asshole one day. Even if that means putting up with Lex Luthor and Superman. And also, like . . . everything about Metropolis. 

He'll figure it out. Supervillainy is still a long-term plan, so he's got time. 

Anyway, if he gives it to Kon after he takes it over he won't have to put up with it, so it's whatever. Sugar daddies do that kind of thing, right? Get their sugar-ees a city? 

. . . okay, definitely not. Like, very definitely not. 

“Okay date idea, then?” Kon asks as he leans back a bit and does a very bad job of biting back a smile, his face a little flushed and arms squeezing a little tighter around his neck. 

Tim will get him Metropolis if it kills Lex Luthor. 

“Very okay,” he says, smiling back at him. Kon grins, his face turning just a little bit redder, and then kisses him again. Tim has absolutely no complaints about that. Ever. He can’t even imagine a complaint he’d have about that, in fact. 

Worst case scenario, he’ll get them in at another restaurant if they miss their reservation. 

He really doesn't know what else he's supposed to do about how easy Kon blushes. 

They definitely spend too long making out against the gargoyle and Tim definitely lets himself get too riled up during it–and does not think about tactile telekinesis or any kind of related passive perception while he does–but by the time he’s the one pressing Kon back against the building, he really doesn’t care anymore. 

The fact Kon is even willing to let him do that when there is literally no way Tim could ever actually pin him anywhere without a way to sabotage his powers is . . . really, really distracting. Just–so distracting. 

Jesus, Tim thinks, breaking off just long enough to catch his breath for a moment. Kon pants softly against his mouth, which sabotages that even worse than kryptonite would sabotage TTK. 

Jesus, Tim thinks again, and then crushes their mouths back together. 

He doesn’t need to breathe that often. 

Kon makes a softer, breathier sound this time, and Tim does not let himself make it weird by letting his hands wander anywhere outside of second base territory. Frankly he’s not sure second base territory isn’t him making it weird, but Kon started it, so hopefully it’s not? Like–logically it’d follow that Kon wouldn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want touched, right? 

Well–hopefully, anyway. 

The air feels tight, Tim notices suddenly, like the feeling of sinking into deeper pressure when underwater but all at once, and then realizes–oh. 

Uh. 

Okay. 

“Um,” he says, and immediately the feeling of pressure vanishes as Kon jerks back and claps a hand over his own mouth. Which is mostly him pushing Tim back, given their position, but he does crack the brickwork behind him a little. 

Whoops, Tim thinks. 

“Sorry!” Kon blurts. “Sorry, sorry, that’s–sorry! I just, uh–got a little too into it. I won’t do it again.” 

“It’s really not a problem,” Tim says, with absolutely no idea how to take the idea of Kon getting “a little too into it” when kissing him, or the idea that getting a little too into it apparently involves getting wrapped up in TTK a lot more noticeably than making him bulletproof at the museum did. “I mean–it didn’t hurt or anything, I was just surprised.” 

“I–yeah, I know, it’s just–weird,” Kon says, still looking mortified. “So–sorry. That’s all.” 

“I don’t mind weird,” Tim says, because actually the idea of being temporarily at least as invulnerable as Kon is while making out with him implies being able to devote a lot more attention to said making out, as opposed to keeping half an eye out for snipers or rogues or random rooftop criminals. Not that he’d stop paying any attention to that, obviously, just–yeah. Well. 

It’s a little tempting, that’s all. 

“Uh–you don’t?” Kon bites his lip, still looking a little embarrassed. 

“It kind of just felt like scuba-diving, but with less equipment involved,” Tim says with a little shrug, keeping his tone light because “seriously, you have no idea how much I’d like to not be compulsively keeping an eye out for snipers right now” isn’t a very “civilian” thing to say. “And I’m not about to complain about you enjoying kissing me that much either way.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and flushes a little. “Uh–really?” 

“Really,” Tim says, smiling at him again and tugging gently at the lapels of his jacket to pull himself back in. Kon blushes, and grins, and meets him halfway for the kiss. The sensation of pressure wraps him up again, gentle but undeniable, and Tim feels several kinds of ways about it. 

Maybe even a little bit safe, or at least as safe as anyplace outside the Batcave ever gets. 

Tim knows there’s no such thing as being perfectly, completely safe, but getting all wrapped up in Kon’s TTK and kissed for it makes it hard to remember that. 

Very, very hard. 

They spend a much longer time making out this time. Tim is vaguely aware that they still have a dinner reservation to make, but . . . well, he did pad the time to allow for window-shopping, so even with the time they spent flying around taking pictures, it's probably fine? 

Yeah, no, they’ve definitely missed their reservation by now. Probably way past missed it. Just so, so far past missed it. 

Weirdly, Tim doesn’t care as much as he should, even though he really prefers when things go to plan and also needs Kon to feel appreciated and like he got properly spoiled and taken someplace nice. He’s going to have to figure out something else on the fly, though, because he really does needs Kon to feel appreciated and also needs the excuse to get him more used to getting money spent on him and–

Tim remembers that he needs to breathe more than he's currently breathing and breaks off the kiss. Kon half-chases his mouth with his own, audibly breathless himself. Tim is not equipped to handle Kon breathless. 

That might actually be more flattering than the TTK thing. Or, uh–flustering, maybe. 

Both, maybe. “Both” is probably accurate here. 

Jesus, Tim does not know what he did to deserve Kon getting breathless over something he’s done to him, much less all soft and pretty and–

They have definitely, definitely missed their reservation. Usually Tim has a better sense of time than that, but usually Tim doesn’t have Kon wanting to make out on a Gotham rooftop with him, Like, he thinks he can forgive himself a little bit of disorientation on that one, considering. 

. . . as long as Bruce never finds out he messed up that bad, anyway. Because Bruce would definitely not like hearing he’d messed up that bad, TTK or not. 

Probably especially involving the TTK, actually. Probably Bruce would not take “yeah I let Superboy get distracted enough to unconsciously wrap me up in his Kryptonian-level superpowers while he wasn’t in full control of them and actually, like, encouraged it, kinda? like, explicitly encouraged it, actually”. 

Yeah, Bruce would not like that. 

“Um,” Tim says, and clears his throat a little awkwardly. “So, uh–hungry yet?” 

“You could say that,” Kon murmurs, then flashes him a sharp, wicked grin with his eyes slit open just enough to fix on Tim’s mouth. Tim spares a moment to compartmentalize just enough to not lose his mind about that, then makes the mistake of licking his lips anxiously, sees Kon’s hooded eyes go hot at the sight, and immediately fails to not lose his mind. 

“Uh,” he manages, and then decides they don’t really need to get dinner just yet and maybe they could just, like–no, no, Kon is definitely not getting enough calories from that stupid barely-legal underground lab’s stupid definitely-not-health-code-compliant cafeteria, Tim is not gonna be a bad enough date to not get his date a respectable amount of calories. That is just not a thing that he’s gonna, like . . . thing, as a thing. Or whatever. 

Not like Superman’s been bringing Kon casseroles or anything, the prick. 

“Um, I–uh, might’ve let us get a little too distracted, sorry,” Tim attempts after a moment of mental fumbling, making himself push back from Kon a little and pulling his phone out to check the time. Yeah, they have definitely missed their reservation. Very, very thoroughly have they missed it. 

Dammit. That is not Bat-quality situational awareness. 

“You think that was just you, man?” Kon asks with a little laugh, just barely ducking his head and biting his lip. It is . . . very distracting. As is his face. And his hands, which are still loosely on Tim’s back, and his TTK, which is still loosely . . . basically everywhere, yeah. Just–way too many places for Tim to be rational about, basically. 

“I mean, I was the one who made the reservation,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly as he does his best to at least fake rationality. “So, uh, I should’ve been paying attention to the time. I can see if there’s someplace we can still slip in, it’s a little last-minute for a Friday but–” 

Kon kisses him again. 

Tim was saying something, he’s reasonably sure, but he couldn’t remember whatever it was with a gun to his head. A gun to his head while out of his suit and without Kon on the same floor as him, to be clear. 

Kon leans back and grins at him, all bright and pretty and cutting right through the shade and shadows of Gotham like a spotlight-signal lighting up the cloud cover. Tim remains vaguely aware of the fact that he was doing . . . something. At some point. In theory. 

God, Kon is so pretty. So, so pretty. And everything he’s wearing is something Tim bought him, coat and clothes and jewelry and all. Just–all of it, as far as he can see. 

Tim does not let himself think about what else Kon might or might not be wearing right now. Just–that way lies madness, and also Kon not getting a decent dinner and decent spoiling. 

. . . there’s probably some other ways Tim could spoil him, technically, if he just– 

Tim does not finish that thought. 

“You’re so fucking cute, daddy,” Kon says, still grinning just as signal-bright and pretty at him. Tim is not prepared for literally any of that and nearly melts right off the ledge into an incoherent mess of street pizza. 

“Uh,” he says, swallowing roughly. “We should–are you hungry yet?” 

Kon laughs, for some reason. Tim very quietly and carefully burns alive, and then Kon floats up a few inches and ducks around him and back out into the open air, leaning down to grin at him and reaching to–probably he’s intending to pick him up again, Tim’s brain is vaguely aware, but the rest of Tim is thinking more like hurr durr pretty boy, which is definitely why he ends up reaching up to cup Kon’s face in his hands and tug him down for another kiss, pushing himself up on his toes on the edge of the ledge to reach him easier. Kon makes a soft, breathless little noise, then laughs in delight and kisses him back. 

The wind is cold and sharp and the evening sky is all heavy dark clouds and hazy light pollution and Kon’s wearing clothes Tim bought him, some of which Tim even suggested to him, and he put on makeup and painted his nails to come see him and he’s got a gift bag of little things Tim picked out for him hooked in the crook of his elbow and he liked all of those little things, and they’ve not only missed but obliterated their dinner reservation, and they’re half-on a ledge high above the street and kissing and Kon is just so pretty.

And Kon also bought him a camera and brought him up here because he thought he’d like it and called him “cute”, which are all facts that Tim is definitely going to have to compartmentalize to fully process later, or else he really will melt right off the stupid ledge. 

The spicy pics thing, also, is a thing. The spicy pics thing is, uh–very much a thing. 

Tim is maybe just never gonna process that particular fact in, like, self-defense. 

Ever. 

. . . god, he’s going to have to process that fact at some point, isn’t he. God. That is . . . that is a whole thing that he is going to have to do. Like, effectively and well and throughly.

Maybe it’s not too late to just go supervillain right now, actually. Maybe Kon would be open to, like, minionhood or something. Lots of supervillains put their minions up in their lairs, right? That’s totally a thing, isn’t it? 

Ugh, no, Kon deserves a place he can really feel like is his place and also he has not laid near enough groundwork to get Dick to switch sides. Like, Alfred would, obviously. Alfred will be on-board the second the rusty crowbar and shrapnel bomb plan comes up and will probably have useful notes to add. But Dick is gonna require some more long-term finessing and Babs definitely won’t come if Dick doesn’t and– 

Kon laughs into the kiss and cups Tim’s face in return, which is incredibly distracting, and then squishes his face, which is incredibly annoying. 

“Hey!” Tim sputters, and Kon laughs again and leans back just enough to grin at him. 

“You are so weird, dude,” he says. “I can literally hear you thinking.” 

“. . . that’s not me being detached from the situation, I–” Tim starts, unable to repress a wince, and Kon just grins wider, grabs his wrists, and tugs him off the ledge and–oh, okay, that’s a weird sensation, Tim notes, because gravity does absolutely nothing at all to him until Kon’s pulled him into his arms and wrapped him up in them again all easy and secure. . 

So that’s . . . yeah, no, “incredibly distracting” isn’t actually gonna cover this one, considering. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking a couple of times. That. That is definitely not how Superboy holds Robin. 

Frick. 

“I just gotta keep you better attached, right, daddy?” Kon purrs–really purrs, his chest briefly vibrating against Tim’s–and then grins wider at him again with eyes that are, unfortunately, literally goddamn sparkling right now–thanks, gold eyeliner, Tim didn’t need those higher thought processes–before giving him another quick little kiss that Tim actually would like to turn into a four-hour make-out session and maybe also a sleepover and–

God he needs to remember how to compartmentalize. He really, really needs to remember how to compartmentalize. 

Also he needs to kiss Kon’s literal friggin’ brains out, the smug friggin’ asshole.

Mid-air makeouts are the worst possible idea Kon has ever inflicted on him and Tim would sooner fight Killer Croc without his utility belt than point that fact out to him. 

He winds his arms around Kon’s neck and kisses him back, and Kon makes this tiny little–not pleased, not content, but actually happy-sounding noise and kisses back harder. Tim feels gravity stop being a particularly relevant concern again and feels like he’s floating in deep, heavy water but also like he’s the lightest he’s ever been in his life, and it is . . . it is a feeling, alright. 

Kon is a menace. Kon is a problem. 

Kon is so, so damn cute. 

“You are an actual literal brat, baby,” Tim mutters slightly more feelingly than he means to, and Kon’s laugh comes out a little breathier this time and he ducks his head to the side and his face flushes and–

No. Nope. No. Tim needs to not learn anything new about himself or Kon tonight, or, worse, anything about him and Kon. That is just not a thing he has time for in his schedule. He’s got to fit in an anxiety attack and three full files’ worth of casework this weekend, for one, plus his science presentation and that make-up book report, and also come up with someplace else nice enough to take Kon to dinner tonight. 

“So, uh–dinner?” he says very quickly–self-defense, again–and Kon bites his lower lip and grins around it, his face still turned just a little bit away. Tim pretends they’re not effectively pressed together from knee to neck right now. Pretends valiantly. “I mean–um, if you’re hungry yet.” 

Kon laughs, ducking his head lower, the dangling gold teardrop hanging from his ear gleaming warmly in the murky electric city light. Tim goes through multiple stages of emotional processing to keep himself from kissing his neck right behind that earring and completely forgetting about not only dinner, but all his homework and casework and even the anxiety attack. 

Does Kon laugh this much around Robin? 

Tim really doesn’t feel like he does. 

He also doesn’t tell Robin very important things like the fact that he can make other people bulletproof on a whim and map out an entire mall just by standing in it, which is objectively much worse and potentially dangerous a thing not to do, but also Tim is already positive he’s going to miss that laugh like crazy every time he sees Kon with the mask on. 

Robin doesn’t get to see Kon like this at all, even when he lets the asshole eat both stupid boxes of cinnamon bread. 

“Dinner, yeah,” Kon says, grinning again and then taking off backwards across the sky, apparently unconcerned about their chances of hitting a building. Tim’s not really in a proper carry so much as just stretched out against him and wrapped up in his arms, but given the nature of how Kon’s powers work, an actual carry is obivously not really a concern, so . . . 

Oh, Tim realizes as Kon tips back just enough to be reclining in the air, still flying without any apparent care or concern for the aerodynamics of the situation or anything but staying more or less out of view of anyone on the street below. 

Avoiding the street view is good. 

The part where now he’s essentially laying on top of Kon is . . . less good, maybe. 

Maybe he won’t have to convince Kon to go supervillain, at least. Maybe Kon’s already there. 

“Where to, daddy?” Kon asks with a smirk, keeping one arm looped around Tim’s waist and folding the other behind his own head like he’s laying out in a lounge chair on the beach. Tim thinks longingly of smothering him and also of getting him to take down his TTK so he could bite a hickey or five into his neck. Maybe six. He could probably do six. 

Or seven. 

“Northeast towards Broad Street,” Tim says as he tips his head in the appropriate direction, then pulls up the camera again and snaps a quick shot of Kon’s smug smirk, which immediately breaks into a surprised laugh as the other flushes again. 

He takes a picture of that too. 

“You flirtin’ again already, man?” Kon asks with a sheepish little laugh, like the bastard has any room to talk. 

“The position’s pretty good for it, that’s all,” Tim says with a level of casualness he absolutely does not feel. Kon flushes darker and bites his lip again, still just barely grinning. Tim, ethically, has no choice but to take a few more pictures. 

“Oh my god,” Kon says, laughing again and unfolding the arm he has tucked behind his head to hide his eyes behind instead. Tim is maybe a little bit too aware of the line of his throat under the neck of his shirt, without his eyes and the sparkle there to be distracting him into a useless stupid mushbrained might-as-well-be-a-civilian, observationally-speaking. “I’m not a building, you absolute nerd!” 

“I said I liked people-watching too, didn’t I?” Tim points out reasonably, though mostly his brain’s occupied with the question of–“Hey. If you let down your TTK a bit, could a baseline-DNA human give you a hickey? Like, is that physically possible, or are you too Kryptonian for that?” 

“Oh my god,” Kon repeats, laughing harder even as the flush on his face spreads down his neck. Tim wonders how warm that might feel under his mouth. “I, uh–dunno, man. Maybe?” 

Tim silently resolves himself to finding literally any excuse to conduct that experiment and moves a hand to cup the side of Kon’s throat, eyeing it consideringly. Kon makes a slightly weird noise and visibly swallows, and Tim belatedly realizes that he’s paid literally no attention whatsoever to whether or not they’re about to hit a building or a flagpole or a roof this entire flight; he just assumed Kon had it handled. The Bat-paranoia kicks in and he glances up reflexively, and just as reflexively slides the pad of his thumb across Kon’s pulse. Their flight path is clear; they’re high enough to avoid most of the buildings in this area. Definitely still gonna need to keep an eye out for radio towers and billboards, but . . . 

Kon swallows again, the gesture a little bit rough this time. Tim feels the other’s throat flex against his palm. That sure is . . . that sure is a thing that Tim feels right there. That invulnerable throat flexing right there against his palm, and maybe not necessarily having to be invulnerable, if Kon didn’t want it to be. 

. . . . . . he already said he didn’t have time to learn anything new about himself tonight, dammit.

[alvojake]

The Summoning | K.SN

「paring」 : demon!sunoo x fem!virgin!reader 「word count」 : 10k

「synopsis」 : sometimes you can't even trust your friends or you'll be tied down to an altar as a sacrifice for a demon, but what if this demon offered a deal in exchange for your life?

「genre」 : suggestive/smut(not fully), dark romance, supernatural au, dark, horror/thriller, angst, slight crack, maybe a tinge of fluff??

「warnings」 : blood, demon ritual, the reader is being used as a sacrifice, cursing, cult activities, murder, sunoo is MEAN, talk of corruption, mind reading, threats, manipulation, mentions of partying and drinking, choking, petnames (princess, slut, whore, sir...), degradation, teasing, marking, biting, possessive behavior, fingering, lmk if I missed anything!!

𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 | 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙

When you walked out of your apartment hours earlier to hang out with your ‘friends’ you hadn’t expected to be drugged and tied down to an altar. Yet here you were, hands and legs bound tightly by ropes as they dumped some kind of liquid all over your body. Your eyes were screwed shut trying to keep any of it from getting in them. 

Just when you thought they were done you felt more cascading down your face causing your breath to hitch in your throat, heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes opened slowly when you felt the last of it drop onto your skin only for panic to override your senses when you realized what it was they just poured all over you.

Blood…

Your stomach turned, feeling like you were about to be sick, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes. Looking up you met the eyes of two of your so-called friends, no longer in their casual attire but now dressed in a black robe, the hood pulled over their heads.

“Why are you guys doing this? I didn’t do anything wrong!” You cried out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks, “please we can talk about this!” Pleas spewed from your lips, but the words fell on deaf ears.

“Gag her.” Someone instructed one of the younger males that stood closest to you. You continued to let out small cries of ‘please’ hoping that they would let you go. The sharp sting that bloomed on your cheek as your head jerked to the side stopped your incessant pleas before a head roughly grabbed your hair, yanking your head back.

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled before grabbing the cloth that someone was handing him, harshly tying it around your mouth, successfully muffling your cries. 

As you tired to look around the dimly lit room you cursed yourself for not taking your mother’s words to heart. Maybe you really did trust too easily, but that's how you’ve always been, you always wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt. Letting them prove themselves instead of your listening to others words, which in some cases you really should have listened. No matter how many times you have had your trust broken you just never seemed to learn, so maybe, just maybe if you had finally listened to your mom, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. No you’d be back home in your cozy little apartment probably watching some lousy show curled up on the couch with your roommate.

Instead you laid here, tied to an altar for some unknown reason, covered head to toe in blood and listening to some kind of mantra you didn’t understand. Sobs started to rack your body, tears rushing down your cheek washing away some of the blood. Thrashing against your restraints you cursed yourself for being so stupid, but you also cursed the people you called your friends for tricking you. Rage started to trickle into your mind as your movements became more violent, curses falling from your lips only to be muffled by the gag. 

Just then a strong gust of wind swept the room, blowing all of the candles out and all of your movements stopped. Fear embarrassing your mind once more as you frantically looked around trying to figure out what was happening. 

The chanting that once filled the room was gone, leaving an eerie silence. You felt uneasy, unsure of the weird feeling you could feel creep up your spine. 

What in the world was going on? You were in a closed off room. There was no way in hell that a gust of wind that strong could get in. Yet here you are, in complete darkness, your eyes having a hard time adjusting.

“Did it work?” You heard one of the girls ask off to your right causing your head to whip in her direction ready to ask what was going on despite the gag in your mouth. However, the sudden pressure of something, or someone, breaks you out of your thoughts, your body going rigid. Your eyes slowly moved back to see what it was.

Glowing red eyes welcomed your gaze and a scream erupted from your lungs, tugging on your restraints once more. When the candles around you relit you were finally able to see just who it was that was on top of your body. Through your teary vision you could make out a male, his hair a dark red, his skin was pale and were those horns? 

Sunoo looked down at you, amusement gleaming in his dark orbs relishing in the look of pure terror that painted your pretty face. His head tilted to the side, a small smirk tugging on his lips at the sight of the tears that still flowed from your eyes. Your eyes never left his as he studied your features, the way your eyes were bloodshot due to crying, how even under the gag he could see your bottom lip trembling.

Movement in the corner of his eye reminded him that there were still others in the room. His lip twitched as he saw them all bow around the altar. 

“Oh, great one-” “Get out.” Sunoo’s voice was cold as he kept his gaze on you, watching as your eyes grew wide realizing that he was trying to get you alone. A few of those around the room looked up, confused by Sunoo’s words.

One of the guys stood to his feet, meeting Sunoo’s dark gaze that had fallen on him, “but we-'' In a blink of an eye the weight on top of you was gone and Sunoo stood in front of the male, hand plunged deep in his chest. You watched in horror as he coughed, blood spilling from his lips, eyes looking at the redhead in shock.

With a swift movement Sunoo retracted his hand, pulling the heart out of the male’s chest. Eyes glowing red once more as he looked over his shoulder. “I hate repeating myself.” He hissed as the body in front of him dropped dead. Everyone around you scrambled to their feet with screams, rushing to get out of the room. You watched in horror calling for one of them to help you heart pound against your ribcage making you feel lightheaded. Thanks to the cloth over your mouth all of your words came out muffled as you continued to sob.

Sunoo looked down at the still beating heart in his hand, the organ slowly dying in his palm as it realized that it was no longer able to do its job. With a click of his tongue he tossed it off to the side before turning back to you, his gaze falling on you once more.

The severity of your situation finally weighed down on you as he walked towards you, why were you fighting anyways? It’s not like you were magically going to get out of your restraints and there was no knight in shining armor to save you, so why are you still fighting? 

Sunoo watched in curiosity as you slowly stopped fighting against your restraint, silent sobs fell from your lips, eyes screwed shut. “Aww did you really just accept your fate? Where’s the fun in that?” He pouted as he traced a finger along the side of your face before hooking it around the cloth in your mouth, pulling it down. Your eyes snapped open meeting his ruby red orbs, why would he just suddenly-

“Because you’re an interesting creature.” He answered your question as if he just read your thoughts, making your eyes go wide.

“Did you-” “Just read your mind? Yes.” Sunoo cut you off as he tilted his head once more, taking in your features now that there weren’t any interruptions in the room. He watched as your chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath you took, hearing your heart beating crazily under your ribs.

Now you see normally Sunoo wasn’t one to waste any time with his sacrifices, becoming too annoyed with their incessant whining too quickly. He would just kill them swiftly, though he always stopped to watch the way the life drained from their eyes as he ripped their hearts out much like he did earlier. He would then take their souls back with him to the underworld and call it a day, but there was something about you. Something that drew him in, making him want to know more, wanting to figure out what this pull was.

“Are you going to kill me?” Your voice came out quiet and hoarse from all of the screaming and crying. It still brought Sunoo out of his thoughts, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. You watch him with glossy eyes, his gaze making you feel very overwhelmed especially since he wasn’t saying a word. Without so much as a sound he raised his hand, snapping his finger releasing your limbs from their restraints. Tilting your head back you realized that the ropes had disappeared, your gaze then fell back on his unsure for the first time in your life if you could trust him or not.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when his hand grabbed your face roughly, leaning in dangerously close. Close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face, his eyes flashing red causing your breath to hitch in your throat. 

Sunoo smirked sadistically as he watched your eyes go wide, meeting his own, “I won’t kill you. On one condition.” He looked into your eyes, seeing the way that you silently pleaded with him. A rush of excitement rushed up his spine knowing that he was finally going to have a little bit of fun. To be frank he was growing tired of the same old tedious loop that he was constantly stuck in, he wanted something different. Something fun. Something new. 

The little part of his job was that he was able to know just about anything he wanted about his sacrifices just by looking at them. They were all virgins, the purest form of souls and boy did his kind love the taste of them, but Sunoo? It was far too bland for him, no he wanted something more sinful. Then just like that the wheels started turning in his mind, he’d probably get his ass chewed out by the higher ups, but he couldn’t give two shits, not when he was finally gonna get something he longed for.

He made it his mission to take your sweet little innocent soul and tarnish it. Corrupted you until you were anything but pure, then he’d make his final move. He’d kill you, taking your soul back with him as a trophy of his achievements. 

Sunoo knew how naive and clueless you were so he really didn’t have any worries about you agreeing. He was going to use one of your weakest points to her greatest advantage. So his grip tightened on your jaw causing a small whimper to leave your lips.

“I’ll let you live if, and only if, you agree to follow my every command.” He mused, taking in the way your eyebrows scrunched together. 

“That’s it?” You asked, confused, but Sunoo knew as soon as those words left your sweet, plump lips that he’d have you right in the palm of his hand.

“That’s it.” He confirmed, nodding his head before letting go of your face allowing you to sit up. The redhead watched as you tried to piece together his words in your head. Was that all he really wanted? Was for you to listen to him? How could that possibly be? But the moment that you met his eyes he knew what conclusion you had come to.

“Okay… I’ll do it.” He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride fill his chest as those words fell from your mouth as you tried to wipe the tears from your face, only to smear blood in the process.

A devilish smile spread across his face which you mistook for a simple smile and with a snap of his fingers a paper scroll appeared out of thin air, surprising you. Where had it come from? Ignoring your confused expression he laid the paper in front of you, watching as the contract wrote itself. However, you were far too busy trying to figure out how he made it appear to see the ink filling the page.

“Alright then princess, all you need to do is sign.” He instructed you, snapping you out of your daze and you quickly skimmed over the paper seeing that it pretty much said what Sunoo had already told you. By the time you got to the bottom of the page you realized that you didn’t have a pen to sign with.

Meekly you looked over at Sunoo and he just waved the quill pen in his hand before holding his other hand out. Confused, you looked at his hand before meeting his gaze once more. “Give me your hand.” His voice made you shiver before slowly and carefully placing your hand in his. In quick movements he pricked the tip of your finger with the pen earning a yelp from you as you ripped your hand away from him, looking at him with wide eyes.

“What was that for?” You questioned as you cradled your hand to your chest, eyes watching as he rolled his. 

“You’ll need to sign it with your blood.” He told you like it was something you should have already known. With a small pout you took the pen from his hand and quickly signed your name on the bottom line of the page. A smirk tugged on Sunoo’s lips as he watched how quickly you pretty much signed your freedom away, all because you thought ‘what is the worst he could do?’ The answer to that was that he could very easily make your like a living dream or your worst fucking nightmare.

Once you were finished you quickly handed the scroll back to the red-haired male, looking at him expectantly. He took a step away from you, giving you a smile, “Then I’ll see you later princess.” Just then another gust of wind swept the room causing you to close your eyes.

When you opened your eyes once more you found yourself back in your bedroom, sitting in bed as if nothing had just happened. Was it all really just a dream? Your eyebrows scrunched together, bringing your hand up to caress your forehead, but stopped when you saw the red and purple skin on your wrist.

You knew it wasn’t a dream, that you really just made a deal with the devil himself. Slowly removing the blanket from your body you let your legs dangle over the edge, still trying to wrap your head around what had just happened. 

Walking into the bathroom you made your way over to the sink not even bothering to turn the lights on. Turning the tap on you hoped that maybe washing your face with some cold water would make you feel better, but even as you rubbed the white soap studs on your face questions still infiltrated your brain. When you go done you quickly dry your face before walking out of the bathroom, towards your bedroom door.Peeking your head out you took note of just how quiet the house was. Jungwon must be asleep by now so you decided against better judgment that you wouldn’t wake him up. Shutting the door once more you walked over to your bed, laying face down first hoping that sleep would help clear your mind, except… it didn’t. If anything you were left staring at your ceiling all night lost in your thoughts.

Jungwon stood in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand, his phone in the other. The sound of dragging feet caused him to look up only to find you walking in. A yawn escaped your lips as you rubbed your eyes, your hair was an absolute mess. Pieces were sticking up while others stuck to your forehead, it quite frankly looked like you just walked out of a tornado. He stifled a laugh with his coffee causing you to look up at him with a pointed look.

“Shut up, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” A groan slipped from your lips as you massaged the crease in your forehead. He smirked while wiggling his eyebrows, causing you to raise yours, “you’re weird.”

“I’m weird? You’re the one that was out for god who knows how long.” Jungwon rolled his eyes and you stopped dead in your tracks, small clips of last night flashing in your mind. “Where were you anyways? You never showed up to that party.”

“I…” You trailed on not really sure what to tell him, not without sounding like a complete maniac. “I don’t remember actually.”

Jungwon looked at you with a skeptical gaze, spilling on his now lukewarm coffee, his nose scrunching. He knew you weren’t one to get drunk at a party, you were normally the driver for them. So for you to get so drunk that you completely forget everything that happened, was completely out of character seeing as you hated the feeling. 

“Everything okay?” He asked, causing you to hum as you walked to the cabinet with the cups in them. 

Everything from last night replayed in your head, from them tricking you into some abandoned church, to signing some contract with that guy. Was he even a guy? Then you remembered how they all probably thought you were dead. What was going to happen when you had to go back to class on Monday? And what about the deal you made? Was he really going to make you follow his every command?

Then you started to remember everything he did. He couldn’t be a human, there was no way in hell that he was, not with what he did. How could someone so easily stick their hand in another person's chest? Or what about you being back in your room, like nothing had happened?

“Did you get drunk enough to get a tattoo?” Jungwon snickered, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You looked over at him with wide eyes, confused. “What?” 

Jungwon just shook his head, a small smirk forming on his lips as he pointed to his chest right under his collarbone. You don’t have tattoos, they weren’t ever a thought in your mind either so with rushed movements you sat your cup down before making your way into the entrance hall where you had a mirror hanging.

Once you saw your reflection your eyes went to the spot that your roommate had pointed out. There right underneath your collarbone was a tattoo, upon closer inspection you could tell that they were words. However, you couldn’t quite make out what it was saying because it seemed to be in a different language that you definitely didn’t understand.

Running your fingers over it you felt a chill go down your spine, the skin was completely smooth not a single sign of irritation. Which meant that it had to have been there a while, but that couldn’t be the case seeing as you have never seen this before just now. Where could this have come from? Did it happen last night?

You had gotten so lost in your thoughts that you completely missed Jungwon teasing you about how you’d probably have to get it covered up. The dark-haired male mistook your confusion for panic, seeing as if your parents found out they’d have your head served on a silver platter, but your parents were the last thing on your mind at the moment. Your fingertips were still rubbing the skin when you noticed the skin getting warmer, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Hey are you still going out to eat with us before the party tonight?” Jungwon asked, remembering that Jake and Sunghoon were going to be over later, though his words fell on deaf ears. Concerned he pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked over to you, were you really that concerned about a tattoo? He walked over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, but quickly backed away when you jumped and swung your hand at him.

You both stood in shocked silence, staring at each other with wide eyes. Never once had you reacted like that and Jungwon no longer thought that it was the tattoo, he started to wonder what really happened last night. 

You try to regulate your sporadic heart before running your shaky fingers through your hair, “I’m just going to stay home.” Then you walked around the male not giving him a chance to say a word.

Jungwon just stood there confused as he watched you disappear into your room, the door shutting softly. He had never seen you so jumpy before nor has he seen you so out of it like you just were. Though he figured that something must have happened last night, he wasn’t going to press you for information so he just decided to leave it.

He just shrugged his shoulders before pulling his phone out letting the guys know that you wouldn’t be going before walking off to his room planning on getting some homework done before the guys showed up.

You had spent the majority of the day in your room trying anything and everything to get your mind off of what had happened last night and the strange mark on your chest. You tried to read, but everything seemed to remind you of that mysterious man. Tried working on homework, but kept messing up on all of the problems so you gave up. Tried to listen to music, but it never seemed to be loud enough to drown out the thoughts.

With a groan you just flopped on your bed staring at the ceiling trying to piece everything together, but then you heard your phone vibrate on your nightstand. Your body froze, you had completely forgotten about the device. 

What if they already figured out that you weren’t dead? They wouldn’t try to kill you would they? 

A chill went down your spine at the thought, but you knew you’d have to face them sooner or later. However, much to your relief when you opened your phone you just saw that it was the boys in the group chat.

Letting out a huff you threw your phone off to the side not even bothering to check the plethora of other notifications that you had. You figured that you would just cook dinner for yourself then watch a movie or something until Jungwon got back.

So that's what you did, you got up and made your way into the kitchen searching through the fridge and pantry for something to cook. Remembering that you still have a few packs of your favorite ramen left you opened the cabinet they were normally in. Only that they weren’t there, just the empty packaging.

You then heard footsteps in the hall so you quickly peeked your head around the corner seeing Jungwon slipping his shoes on.

“Hey Won.” The sickly sweet tone in your voice sent a chill down his spine as he slowly turned to look at you with a nervous smile, “Tell Jake that he owes me ramen or he’s a dead man the next time I see him, ‘kay?”

The poor boy just quickly nodded his head before telling you bye and walking out of the door. If there was one thing that Jungwon knew better than to mess with was your ramen, now Jake on the other hand had a bad habit of eating her stash and not replacing it.

So the first words out of Jungwon’s mouth when he got into the car were, “You’re a dead man, Sim Jaeyun.”

Jake turned around in the passenger seat to look back at the younger male, confused by what he meant, until Jungwon explained that he needed to stop eating your ramen if he wasn’t going to buy more. Jake swore up and down that he was going to buy more before literally blowing your phone up with apologies and pleads to not strangle him. Which of course went unnoticed by you because you had left your phone in your bedroom.

It had to be way past midnight and you were still perched on the couch with a bowl of popcorn at your side while you watched yet another movie. Thankfully after about two movies your mind started to calm down and you were finally able to distract yourself. You put a few more pieces of popcorn in your mouth after mumbling something that had happened on the screen.

Your body went rigid when you felt fingers brush along your jaw before grabbing your face. Sunoo smirks at your reaction before leaning down enough to have his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Are you not cold?” His breath against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, you recognized his voice almost immediately.

His grip on your face loosened a bit allowing you to turn your head to meet his chocolate orbs, however, the words died on your tongue. Your eyes searched for him, for what? You weren’t entirely sure, but unlike the first time you met him you were scared. Scared wouldn’t even come close to it. No you were intrigued. Intrigued by what he was, what he does, how he speaks, how he sounds, how he smells, how he tastes. 

Your whole body shivered at the thoughts that raced through your mind and Sunoo’s smirk widened as he listened to each and every one of them. He chuckled and the sound left your brain fuzzy.

A small squeak of surprise left your lips as Sunoo’s ring-clad fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing softly. “I bet you enjoy walking around like a little slut, don’t you?” His voice dropped a lower octave as you tried your best to not let any sounds escape your lips. “Walking around half naked and letting your roommate see, you love the attention.”

A soft sigh fell from your lips as Sunoo’s free hand brushed over your exposed collarbone, moving down to the top of your breast that was exposed. You closed your eyes trying to ignore how hot his touches were making your body.

“H-He doesn’t care, we agreed-”

Sunoo’s grip tightened on your throat causing your breath to hitch, “Agreed on what exactly? Hmm? That you can walk around like a prostitute while he eye fucks you all day long only to go and rub one out in his room the moment he could?” A strangled cry fell from your lips as he harshly grabbed your boob in his hand. Sunoo smirked as he watched the way you were rubbing your thighs together, “I bet you even let him touch you huh, just like a little slut.”

You shook your head the best you could with his hand snuggly wrapped around your neck. A gasp then left your parted lips when he cupped your heat through your shorts. You bit your lip as he pressed harder into you feeling your slick soak through the layers of fabric.

“Do you enjoy being talked down to that much princess?” He chuckled as he ghosted his lips against your jaw, watching in amusement as your hip bucked into his hand when his finger pressed down on your clit. A moan escaped your lips when he pressed down on your hips, keeping you in place as he continued to rub your clit through your shorts. “You’re such a needy fucking brat.”

“Plea-” Your words caught in your throat as his hand tightened around your neck making you feel lightheaded. 

Sunoo watched you with a smug smirk, but he wasn’t fully satisfied. No, there was something he wanted to hear from your lips. Letting up on his pace he moved to your ear, eyes never leaving your body.

“Say my name slut,” His voice was rough as he bit down on the shell of your ear. You opened your mouth to tell him that you had no clue what his name was, but then it flashed in your mind as if you’ve known it for eternity.

“S-Sunoo.” Your eye nearly rolled to the back of your head when he picked up the pace of his fingers. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and your mind fogged over as you felt your high quickly approaching. And just like that it was gone.

A whine left your lips when he moved his hand away from your core, but his other hand stayed firmly around your throat. Sunoo’s warm breath fanned the side of your face causing a chill to go down your spine as you squirmed under him. His lips kissed your jaw softly before nipping at the skin right under your ear and a sweet moan left your lips.

“This is only the beginning princess, don’t get used to it.” Then with that he released his grip and moved away from your body. You quickly turned on the couch to ask him what he meant by that only to find yourself completely alone in the living room.

Letting out a frustrated huff you turn back around on the couch fixing your clothes trying to focus on the movie. Then the front door burst open scaring the shit out of you, nearly causing you to knock the popcorn off of the couch.

Jungwon stumbled through the front door with a very, very drunk Jake on his arm. He grumbled about how he ought to just leave him outside. When he walked into the living room he saw you sitting on the couch staring at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” He asked you softly as he moved further into the room and you just nodded before looking over at the passed out boy next to Jungwon.

“I’m fine, but he doesn’t look too good.” You stifled a laugh as you watched Jungwon practically throw Jake down on the loveseat. Jake let out a pained grunt before laying his head back and falling asleep. 

“He’ll be fine, he’s lucky I didn’t just leave him there.” Jungwon rolled his eyes before grabbing two of the smaller throw blankets that were sitting on the shelf by the entrance, throwing one on Jake before walking over to you. “He’s a dumbass and forgot his house keys and his roommate is out of town until Thursday.” 

You giggled against your hand, because it’s not like it was a first time occurrence. Jake always seemed to get overly excited about things and always forgets something.

Jungwon couldn’t help but smile at the sound that left your lips as he sat down next to you. You shifted over a little bit before laying your head on his shoulder and he covered the both of you with the blanket.

“What were you watching?” He asked, causing you to look at the tv screen seeing the credit rolling. You hummed trying to remember but with everything that had just happened you completely forgot what you had put on.

“Uh, just some romcom.” You bit your lip as you reached for the remote hoping that that was what you had been watching. Thankfully that was exactly what you had been watching causing Jungwon to laugh.

“That’s a first, you're normally binging any of the horror movies you can while I’m gone.” He teased as you laid your head back down on his shoulder.

You shrugged, “I wanted something different.”

Jungwon just hummed as he laid his hand on your bare thigh causing your breath to hitch, the skin under his hand tingling. This wasn’t anything new between you two, you were known for being close with each other but never once did you feel like this when Jungwon did something like that. 

“You okay?” Jungwon asked, worry laced in his words as he looked over at you and you just quickly nodded. Without another word you found another movie and played it trying to ignore the feeling you were getting from the way Jungwon’s thumb rubbed your inner thigh, and how you wished it was Sunoo’s.

That next morning you had hoped that you could at least sleep in for a little bit before getting around before school the next day, but you were rudely awakened.

“Y/NNNIE wake up!” Jake’s voice paired with his body landing on you knocked you completely awake. A groan fell from your lips as you pushed his face away from you still smelling a hint of alcohol on his breath.

“God dammit Jake go brush your teeth!” You whined trying to get him off of you but he weighed a lot and you didn’t have the strength to push him off. So he just stayed there snuggled up to you and you groaned, “Won please!” You called out for your roommate only to hear him chuckle from the hall before walking away.

With a huff, you just gave up trying to get the older boy off of you and just laid there. Jake just smiled before lying there comfortably. That was until you pinched his shoulder, hard. 

“OUCH! What was that for?!” Jake whined as he sat up, off of your body. You just smirked before getting out of bed, grabbing your hoodie that was hanging on the back of your desk chair.

“There’s a list of reasons, but we’ll just go with the fact that you still owe me ramen.” You stifled a laugh watching as his face contorted in horror before he quickly ran out of your room. Scoffing, you rushed up to your door, peeking your head out, “You better come back with my ramen Sim Jaeyun!” 

You walked into the kitchen seeing Jake standing on the other side of the island with a nervous smile. Any step you took to walk closer to him, he would step away from you, becoming a game of cat and mouse.

“What if I told you I wasn’t the one that ate it?” Jake’s voice shook as he quickly dodged your outstretched arm, racing to the opposite side of the counter.

“Jake, I swear to god I will climb over this island.” You hissed, glaring at him and he just chuckled. However, as soon as you started climbing on the counter he let out a screech before taking off towards the living room.

“SHE’S GONNA KILL ME!” He cried out darting to hide behind the couch as you jumped off of the countertop. Stalking into the living room you could hear Jake begging you to forgive him and that he promises to get you more.

Though the moment that the room went silent Jake felt his nerves spike, carefully getting up, he peeked over the top of the couch but didn’t see you anywhere. Until he felt a sudden pressure on his back before he fell flat on the ground with a groan. You grabbed his arm before pulling it behind him until he cried out.

“Ow y/n that hurts!” He whined as he tried to wiggle out from underneath you, but every time that he moved you would pull more on his arm causing his movements to stop.

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you eat my food.” You grumbled as you sat fully on his back, keeping him in place.

Jungwon walked into the living room only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight, “What the fuck…?”

Jake lifted his head at the sound and smiled widely when he caught sight of the younger male. “Won, please help me.” He begged the dark-haired boy who just stood there with a raised eyebrow.“You got yourself into this mess and I’m definitely not going against her.” Jungwon pointed to you as you looked at Jake with a sinister smirk. He then turned and started walking away ignoring Jake’s cries for help. “How am I the youngest one here?”

“I guess there is supposed to be a new student,” Jungwon told you and he scrolled through his Instagram feed, stopping on a few of the girl’s posts to like them causing you to scrunch your nose.

“Anyone say who it was?” You took a sip of your coffee as you both walked into the classroom. It's damn near the end of the semester so why start so late? 

“Nope just that it was some guy.” Your roommate just shrugged his shoulders before you sat down at your shared table, dropping his bag to the side. Taking a seat, you set your coffee to the side only for Jungwon to snatch it and take a drink resulting in you giving him the world-class nastiest side-eye.

“You’re lucky you’re cute Won.” You grumbled as you pulled your laptop out of your backpack along with your notebook, getting everything ready for class. However, just as you were about to open your laptop a shadow cast over you causing you and Jungwon to look over.

Your face dropped when you realized who it was that was standing there, anger bubbling in your gut. Joonwoo stood there with a nervous smile, hands clasped in front of his body.

“Hey, y/n could we possibly talk after class?” He asked in hopes that he could work out some deal that wouldn’t result in you dying seeing as that’s what everyone else wanted. Though when you rolled your eyes and told him no he felt his heart drop.

“Y/n plea-” “What about no, do you not get Joonwoo?” You cut him off harshly looking at him with a raised eyebrow before leaning on the table, “Right, that’s a foreign word to you isn’t it?”

Jungwon almost choked on the coffee as he looked at you with wide eyes, had that been why you were so freaked out the other day? What did he do to you? Thoughts spiraled in Jungwon’s brain as he glared at the other male.

“Aww c’mon y/n don’t be like that, we just wanna talk.” Another more higher-pitched voice chimed in and you glared at Haeun as she walked up to the table, sitting on the edge. 

Your glare deepened when she started to mess with your papers so you snatched them out of her hand, “and I don’t wanna talk to people like you, so bye.” Your words caused both of their eyes to widen, they really thought that you would go. 

“Listen here-” “No you listen here Haeun.” You growled, standing and getting in her face, your voice low, “Unless you want the entirety of the university to know what you did and who you mess around with I suggest you leave me the fuck alone.” 

You may have always trusted so easily, but that didn’t mean that you were gonna allow those who wronged you back in. No, once that trust is broken, there is no fixing it.

“Yeah and what proof?” Haeun rolled her eyes, putting distance between the two of you and you just sat back down in your seat. Arms crossed over your chest you just smirked at her.

“I have my ways, trust me.” Though your voice was steady internally you started to panic a little, you had no idea how you were going to get any of the said proof. That’s when a familiar shade of red hair caught your attention.

There at the front of the classroom talking to the teacher, was Sunoo. Looking over he caught your eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes then flickered over to the two that were standing next to you and a look of disgust graced his feature making you giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Haeun asked bitterly, causing you to just look at her with a smug smile, you then pointed to the front of the room. Haeun rolled her eyes again making your eyes narrow wishing they’d get stuck in the back of her head, however, the satisfaction of seeing the horrified looks on their face was more than enough.

Sunoo’s glare was enough for Haeun to jump off of the table and drag Joonwoo away with her. You stifled a laugh as you watched them scurry away before looking over at Jungwon who was glaring in their direction. Your smile slowly faded as you realized that he heard the whole thing. Mentally cursing yourself you met his eyes when he looked back over at you.

“What the hell happened that night?” There was worry in his tone, but also a tinge of anger. You bit your lip as you tried your best to avoid his gaze, “y/n.”

“Can we talk about this later Won?” You gave him a pleading look not really wanting to talk about what happened in the middle of a classroom where anyone could hear you. Jungwon sighed before nodding and facing the front of the class where Sunoo was talking to the professor.

Now that you could actually get a good look at him you noticed that he wasn’t dressed anything like he had been those nights ago. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater which baffled you because it was late spring, how was he not hot? Another thing that threw you off was how sweet he was acting with the teacher. 

Sunoo could feel your eyes on him and even with all of the insistent chatter in the room all he could hear were your thoughts. A small smirk tugged on his lips as he listened to you lose yourself in thoughts of him. When the professor excused him after showing him his seat, Sunoo smiled sweetly before locking eyes with yours momentarily. His eyes flashed red quickly, but it was more than enough to have you squirming in your seat.

For the remainder of class the only thing on your mind was Sunoo and boy was the demon enjoying it. Listening to you fight your thoughts as you watch the way his hand grips his pencil, or when he intentionally rubs his shoulder before letting his fingers trace over his neck much like he had done to you the other night.

He had to bite his lip to suppress the smirk that was fighting to spread on his lips as he listened to the lewd thoughts that started to race through your mind the second you remembered what had happened Saturday night.

As soon as the bell rang you quickly gathered your stuff, shoving it in your backpack. Sunoo watched in amusement as you ushered your roommate out of the classroom, eyes flickering to meet his before you disappeared out of the room.

“A game of cat and mouse hmm?” Sunoo twirled his pencil on the tip of his finger, the skin growing warmer, “doesn’t she know she’ll lose?” His eyes flashed red as the pencil incinerated, turning to dust that blew around the room.

During your lunch break, you had decided that cafeteria food didn’t sound all too appealing and you really didn’t want to go home for a short amount of time just to have to turn around and come right back. So you went with your plan b and just grabbed something from the vending machine, the only problem? You couldn’t figure out which of the snacks you wanted.

“You always did really like the cookies.” The sudden voice caused you to jump before your head whipped around just to find Joonwoo standing there.

Rolling your eyes you turned back around, feeding your money into the machine. You clicked a few buttons before watching as a bag of chips fell to the bottom. Bending down you opened the small compartment and grabbed your snack out before standing straight, looking right at Joonwoo.

“Why do you keep bothering me Joonwoo?” You crossed your arms over your chest glaring at him, “Did you really think that I wouldn’t notice you following me around like some love-sick puppy?”

Joonwoo stood there with a nervous smile on his lips, his hand reaching around to scratch the back of his neck, eyes averting yours. He wasn’t even really sure what to tell you, nor what he should ask you. 

“About the other night-” “What about it? Don’t say some stupid shit like ‘Oh it was a mistake we definitely didn’t mean to tie you to an altar as a sacrifice for a demon’ because we both know that it wasn't a mistake.” Your tone was bitter, causing the boy to jump as his eyes went wide, though you weren’t quite done, “You know I had completely trusted you guys, you and Haeun were my first friends here besides Jungwon yet as soon as I got a little too comfortable you used me? So no I really don’t want to hear any of your bullshit okay? I just want you to leave me the hell alone, got it?”

Joonwoo stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish searching for water. He wasn’t really sure what to say at that point, because he was going to apologize and try to beg for your forgiveness. However, now it looks like that wasn’t going to be an option so he just decided to go with the next plan.

“You do know that the moment the others find out you're alive they’ll kill you?” His words sent a chill down your spine, of course, you knew that. You had expected it, but to be quite frank you didn’t feel a single bit of fear, why? You weren’t entirely sure.

“You nor your filthy followers won’t be laying a finger on her.” His voice sent a litter of goosebumps all across your skin as you felt his hand snake around your waist, holding your hip firmly.

Joonwoo’s eyes went wide as he looked at the demon that now stood protectively behind you, then down to you. Despite your racing heart, you kept a poker face with Joonwoo, raising an eyebrow at him.

“B-But we summoned you, you’re supposed to grace us.” The boy in front of you stammered, pointing his finger at the redhead.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow at the male, “First put that disgusting thing down before I rip it off.” His lips curled as he looked Joonwoo up and down before continuing. “Second, maybe you stupid mortals should have thought about who you were summoning.” Then in a blink of an eye, Sunoo stood in front of Joonwoo, his hand wrapped around his throat cutting his oxygen supply off. “I don’t play by the rules,” Sunoo smirked as he watched the boy struggle to breathe.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in your chest knowing that you had Sunoo right behind you, protecting you and oh boy did that excite you. Sunoo on the other hand was absolutely loving how naive you were, how easy it was to play with you, to bend you and before too long he’d have you shaped perfectly just for him.

However, you remembered that you were still in school and there were cameras everywhere and someone could possibly see what was going on.

“Sunoo, there’s cameras.” You warned him, shifting on your feet suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of being caught. The redhead, however, could care less about it and continued to choke out the poor boy who was pleading with his eyes. When you realized that he wasn’t letting go you rushed up to him, grabbing his bicep. “Sunoo let him go.” Your voice was low while you continued to try and spot the cameras.

Sunoo glanced over at you, catching the worry on your face as you looked around the area. With a roll of his eyes, he shoved Joonwoo away with a ‘tsk’.

“Get out of my sight, rat,” Sunoo growled and Joonwoo quickly scrambled to his feet and raced down the hall. He then turned towards you and that’s when you realized just how close you were to him and quickly backed away. Sunoo smirked at your reaction before his eyes flashed, sending a rush of heat through your body.

You could feel the heat pooling in your gut and cursed yourself for getting so turned on so easily. Something about him was starting to drive you insane and you needed to get away, quick. So without another thought, you started to walk away, narrowly dodging his outstretched hand.

“Where are you going princess?” He taunted you, but you could hear the annoyance in his tone.

Turning with a nervous smile you just pointed behind you with your thumb, “Gotta get to class, bye!” And with that, you quickly dashed down the hall trying to create as much distance as possible between the two of you, only breathing when you made it to your next class. Sitting down you placed a hand over your racing heart, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, “What the hell is wrong with me…?”

You had spent the rest of the day trying your best to avoid Sunoo in any way possible even if they meant you accidentally dragged Jungwon into the girl's bathroom. The poor boy was mortified when the girls inside started to freak out, quickly apologizing and rushing out. You couldn’t help but laugh as he dragged you down the hall to your next class.

“Won, I’m sorry.” You apologized between fits of laughter and he just gave you a nasty side-eye.

However, now that you were finally home after a long day at school then having to work a short shift at the game store. It was all very exhausting for no reason in particular. 

Stepping out of the shower you wrapped your towel around your body before walking over to the mirror, wiping the condensation off so you could see your reflection. Your eyes immediately went to the marking on your chest, fingers brushing over it softly.

You still had no idea what it said and it did bug you a little bit but you weren’t going to let yet another thing occupy your mind right now. So you quickly pushed it to the back burner and grabbed your underwear to slip it up your legs after drying your body off. Once your shirt was on you started using another towel to dry your hair off.

Humming to yourself you walked out of the bathroom, switching the lights off before walking into your room.

Sunoo laid on your bed one of your books in his hand mindlessly flipping through it until he heard the door shut. Looking up he watched as you walked further into the room, hands busy drying your hair. 

His eyes then trailed down the length of your body taking in the way that your tits sat under the thin fabric of your shirt and how your legs were on perfect display as the shirt hiked up.

Finally looking up a small scream left your lips before you smacked a hand over your mouth, your heart racing in your chest as you met Sunoo’s eyes.

“Y/n is everything okay?” Jungwon asked from the other side of the door, causing Sunoo to smirk. Part of him wanted the younger boy to walk in and find him on your bed, but the other, stronger, part of him wanted Jungwon completely out of the picture.

“Everything's fine, Won, it was just a bug.” You called out to him, moving your hands to your side in the process. Your eyes never left Sunoo’s even as he sat up on the bed, motioning for you to come.

Your heart wanted to move because you knew what he could do for you, but your brain kept you in place out of fear of what he could do to you. However, Sunoo grew annoyed rather quickly when you stayed put, your wide, doe eyes staring at him.

“Come, now.” He growled, his eyes turned that very ruby red that made you weak in the knees.

Slowly you made your way over to him, your lip trapped between your teeth as you bit on the sensitive skin. Though as soon as you were close enough Sunoo wrapped his hand around your arm pulling you onto the bed.

A gasp fell from your lips as your back hit the soft mattress. Sunoo hovered over you, his body pressed against yours. You could feel the heat rising up your neck, painting your face a deep shade of red. Sunoo leaned down, pressing his body more against yours and your breath hitched in your throat. His scent invaded your senses making your head spin, but when his lips brushed over your jaw you felt your brain malfunction.

“You remember our deal don’t you princess?” His tone held a warning and of course, you remembered the deal, it was the reason you were alive. However, it was still instilled in your brain that he wouldn’t actually mean every word. Oh how wrong you were.

His hand that was on your hip trailed up your waist before stopping right above the collar of your shirt. Hooking his finger under the fabric, pulling it down, and tracing his finger over your collarbone. Right over the marking.

“This right here is proof enough.” He pulled back and looked down at you as you stared back at him.

You swallowed thickly, “proof of what?”

He chuckled before latching his lips to your neck, biting down on the skin, “that you belong to me.”

A small moan escaped from your parted lips as his knee brushed against your core. You quickly bit your lip to muffle any other sounds as he continued to mark up your neck and the small part of your chest that was exposed.

Sunoo felt a sense of pride bloom in his chest at your little sounds, but he wanted to hear more. He wanted more, he wanted you to be loud, to scream his name, but most of all he wanted your roommate to know.

Sunoo wasn’t stupid, he knew that Jungwon liked you. Sunoo knew that the boy had longed to be with you but was always too scared to make the first move. He wanted Jungwon to know that he was too late, that you already found your place under someone, that the someone wasn’t him.

His hands found your hips pulling them down, pressing your core against his thigh. A mewl left your mouth as you grabbed his forearm. 

“Sunoo.” His name rolled off your tongue like butter. You wanted to push him away, scared that Jungwon would hear something and come to investigate, but the other part of you wanted to pull Sunoo closer and let him have his way with you.

The redhead smirked against your skin as he listened to your internal thoughts. Listening to how the lust slowly started to overtake your mind until you were completely consumed. 

You rolled your hips against his thigh trying to gain more friction as whines fell from your lip due to Sunoo’s assault on your neck. He bit down on your sweet spot causing your body to shiver and a moan relatively louder than the rest to tear from your lungs. He continued to abuse that spot until he was sure it was going to be the darkest one as you rutted your hips against him.

You whined when he moved his leg away from your body, but the sound was quickly caught in your throat when his hand moved down to press against your cunt.

“You’re so wet already, are all virgins this desperate?” He moved away from your neck to look at you, but as soon as his eyes met yours your hands flew up to cover your face. “Uh-uh, princess.” Sunoo removed his hand from your pussy before pulling your hands from your face, pinning them above your head. You stared at him with wide eyes, your bottom lip trembling as he smirked. “I want to see your pretty face while I make you go stupid with just my fingers.” 

Sunoo watched in amusement as your face turned a bright shade of red, but you just nodded your head. He chuckled before shaking his and leaning down closer to your face.

“Use your words, do you understand slut?” His gruff voice caused a small whimper to leave your lips and your body felt like it was on fire.

“Yes sir.” You weren’t sure what compelled you to say that, but by the sinister smirk on Sunoo’s face, you knew he liked it.

He let go of your hands and you left them lying by your head until his hand came in contact with your clothed core once more. A mewl fell from your lips as he pressed on your clit, your hands going to his shoulders.

Your head fell back with a moan as he slipped his fingers past your underwear, feeling your slick folds. He leaned down nipping at the newly exposed skin of your neck as he outlined your slit with his finger, collecting your slick before pressing down on your clit.

“Ah fuck!” You cried out a whole new sensation filling your body, sure you had touched yourself before but this was new, different. Your back arched off of the bed as he slipped a finger into your soaked hole. You bit down on your lip to muffle the sounds that threatened to leave and you balled Sunoo’s shirt into your fist.

“Such a dirty mouth, just like this little pussy of yours.” Sunoo smirked against your skin, picking up the pace of his fingers, “I’ve barely done anything and you’re already about to cum, what a filthy whore.”

His words burned in all of the good ways making your head feel fuzzy, however, when he added another finger you were sure you were about to combust. You were sure your lip was bleeding with how hard you were biting it to try and muffle your sweet sounds that Sunoo wanted to hear.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, “better stay quiet if you don’t want him to know what a little slut you are.” Sunoo sped up his movements, testing how much you could take before you’d actually break. A wide smirk spread across his lips when he brushed over your sweet spot causing you to clench around his fingers and a breathy moan finally leaving your now parted lips.

“Sir I wanna cum, please.” You whined out as your fingers dug into his shoulders.

Sunoo chuckled darkly before pumping his finger in and out of your pussy at a harsh pace. Lewd, wet sounds filled the room as you cried out weakly still trying to stay quiet. His fingers hitting your sweet spot had you almost toppling over the edge.

“Then cum princess,” That’s all it took before your jaw fell slack and your eyes rolled back a whine tearing through your throat. Sunoo wanted to burn the image in his head forever as he continued to pump his fingers into your sopping cunt.

He so badly wanted to torture you until you were begging him to fuck you, but he knew that he had all the time he needed. So he pulled his fingers away from your needy hole causing you to whine at the sudden empty feeling. 

You wanted to beg him to fuck you but you were also scared, you had never done anything like that before and it was horrifying. On the other hand, though it was also exciting because if it was going to be anything like you just felt now, you want it and more.

“Sunoo-” The redhead cut you off as he placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth leaving you to look at him with wide eyes.

“There’s no need to rush princess, we do have a lifetime after all.” He smirked but something was mincing about it that made your stomach turn. You opened your mouth to say something but the lights flickered and when you looked again, he was gone.

You groaned before flopping back on the bed, chest heaving with every breath as you stared blankly at the ceiling. Everything was going a hundred miles an hour in your head but the number one question you had for yourself was…

“What the hell did I get myself into?”

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 : @heesitation @riftanswhore @luvyong2z @heeslut4life @fromkamal @mari-marimar @topichoon @strxwbloody @yeonzzzn @marimariiiiiiii @m3chigo @seoniwoo

(If your user is bold and purple it means I couldn't tag you for whatever reason :( )

[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part three

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: satoru doesn't understand why you aren't the one to wake him every morning. he becomes moody in your absence, haunted by a fear that isn't fully realized. satoru spends his days confused as he wanders the grounds in search of you. he has no idea what to expect when he finally gets you alone. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, intense emotions, suggestive topics (mention of flashing & teen masturbation), meal skipping, satoru has a panic attack

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 3,486

𝜗𝜚 an: part three!! come get yall's food lol

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p4┊

“Who do you want to marry when you grow up, Satoru?” you’re smiling at him when you ask, looking up from the dandelion that rested in your small grip; wispy white seeds blowing away with the wind. Satoru watches the fuzz carry on into the open field from where the two of you were sitting, his own wispy white strands tickling his neck from the random gust of wind causing a shudder to ripple through his small form. 

“Satoru, are you listening to me?” you giggle, covering your mouth as a blush creeps up his chubby face. 

“Of course I was,” he insists, cheeks getting brighter as you continue to giggle at him; you were used to Satoru getting distracted by the littlest of things. You pick up another dandelion, scooching closer to his face before giving it a hearty blow and Satoru frantically waves his hands in front of his face - trying desperately to vanish the fluff in front of him. “I was listening,” he states, exasperated. “You just didn’t give me time to think,” he pouts and your giggle fit kicks in again. “Stop it!” he begs, crossing his arms in a huff. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you tell him, reeling in your humor and straightening out your face. “You don’t have a favorite Princess already in mind?” you ask, daydreaming about his romanticized future. You were always there while his parents talked about all the possibilities Satoru had to look forward to. Even in their young age many of the Princesses were ‘radiant beauties’ who would make ‘perfect wives for a lucky Prince’. You all but sighed imagining the lavish wedding full of blooming flowers and a flawlessly flowy veil. 

“No,” he scoffs at that idea, “Only girls care about that mushy stuff,” his fists dig into the dirt to distract himself from the blush that he couldn’t seem to shake off his cheeks. 

“Not even a little bit?” you ask him, hiding your knowing smile by biting your nails. 

“Only sometimes,” he concedes and you perk up a little; still cautious about riling him up again.

“What do you think about?” you subconsciously lean in closer, worried his words would get carried away with the wind. 

“That it won’t be fun….” he pauses, pulling strands of grass out from the ground while he readies himself, “Without you there.”

“Of course I’ll be there silly,” you’re quick to remind him. You wouldn’t miss his wedding for anything. Hell, practically the whole world would be watching and you’d be no different; cheering for the Prince as he found his Princess; securing their place as soon to be King and Queen of the kingdom. 

“Not in the way that I’d want,” he sighs, opening his fist and letting the pile of grass fall back down onto the ground. Your eyebrows furrow, unsure what to make of his statement. You notice how crestfallen he looks though, and you move onto the next thing to busy his thoughts with. It’s easy, it always has been easy to distract the Prince; but every so often you see his lips purse and eyebrows knit as if he’s remembering an unpleasant thought. 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru wakes up early the day after the ball; alerted to the strange man in his room opening his curtains at the first sign of dawn. “Who are you?” he asks, voice full of unease while he watches said man cross his room back to the door he arrived through. 

“Peter, your highness,” the man bows to him, “Breakfast is awaiting you in your private dining room,” he scurries off, leaving Satoru even more confused. Anxiety quickly starts to eat at the features on his face as he sits up, deep in thought. Where could you possibly be? He couldn’t remember you requesting time off…. perhaps you had fallen ill? His thoughts did a number on his heart, feeling his pulse quicken and his chest vibrate from the heavy thumps the organ was producing. He shakes his head, slowing his thoughts and thus his heart, focusing on getting dressed to make it to breakfast. He all but runs throughout the palace, bare feet pattering against the marble floors while he makes his way down the winding halls until he arrives at his destination; hastily pushing open the doors of his dining room. He sees Peter again, standing against the wall like all servants were trained to do before pulling out a chair for the Prince. Satoru’s vision blurs. You had never not let him know your schedule. If you weren’t going to be there for his day you always told him. Always. Usually weeks in advance too. His palms perspired and he rubbed them on the fabrics of his pants. “Please, eat well, Princ-” Peter talks and Satoru immediately cuts him off.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Satoru tries to steady his tone but his voice shakes and Peter clears his throat before excusing himself, leaving his questions unanswered. He should know better than to get all worked up over something he has no information on yet, but he ignores his meal anyways and heads back to his room, his appetite suffering from the anxiety gnawing on his insides. 

𝜗𝜚

Peter had a hard time getting Satoru ready for the day, the stubborn Prince making it purposefully more difficult the longer he went without the information he seeked. The poor servant does his best - sticking out Satoru’s backhanded comments and incessant teeth sucking as he grew more and more frustrated with the man. He still goes to his classes for the day, not without waving his hand at Peter as he follows him around like a fruit fly to an orange; desperately trying to get the man off his back, 

“Fetch me my tea and biscuits early,” he snaps, frustrated even before putting brush to canvas as his art teacher squirms - not used to such a volatile attitude from the Prince aimed towards a servant. Peter jumps from his tone, rushing to please the fuming royal. When Peter comes back with the wrong biscuits Satoru is quick to insult him, calling him a ‘bumbling idiot who needs to put his head on straight so he can go and find you to smooth over his mistakes’. Peter perspires heavily, bowing repeatedly and apologizing before seeing himself off, desperately trying to think of which biscuits the Prince was referring to as the correct ones.  

During his dance lessons Satoru starts to grow dizzy - seeing Peter’s face every time he spun around in his direction did little to settle his stomach. He held no ill will towards the man - but the longer he went without seeing you the harder it was to quell his anger. The fact Peter seemed clueless to your whereabouts was doing him no help either. “I need a glass of water,” Satoru stops his teacher, removing his hand from her waist and making his way to the door. Peter calls after him when his body makes it past the threshold but Satoru doesn’t look back and Peter gives up the chase before it even starts. Exhausted from a day of following the grumpy Prince around. 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru doesn’t know what to expect when he enters the kitchens, but your sunken shoulders and red eyes was definitely not one of them. “Thank God,” he says, alerting the busy kitchen staff to his arrival. He strides across the room, making his way towards you with a look of relief on his face; knowing that you were still in the palace settled his nerves just a little. Your face looked anything but relieved - your figure tenses upon seeing the Prince and your throat tightens watching him make his way towards you. You’re frozen, unable to move when you feel a harsh pinch at your side. You turn to see your mother, eyes communicating clearly with yours; you needed to make yourself scarce. Your heart skips a beat and you hardly notice you’re holding your breath. Once the Prince was almost directly in front of you, you jumped to action, setting down your paring knife and hastily leaving through the back door of the kitchen.

Satoru doesn’t have any time to call out your name, his mouth opens in an attempt but the swinging door of the kitchen is already stilled by the time he processed what happened. His head tilts, not believing it. Your mother interrupts his thoughts with a polite bow, “Prince Gojo, how may we be of help?” Her smile is gentle but her eyes are wild while they search the Prince’s features - trying to read what his next actions might be. He studies her own features just as much as she does his - taking in her full cheeks and narrow eyes. You resemble your father more, but you have your mother’s nose and his heart constricts again at the realization you had walked away from him.

“Just a glass of water, ma’am, thank you,” he all but whispers.  

𝜗𝜚

“Stop talking about my wedding!” child Satoru stomps his foot at you. The two of you were in the middle of an intense game of checkers when you were feeling a bit giddy about the conversation that occurred during breakfast. 

The Queen had droned on and on about the beautiful Princess of a neighboring nation to the two of you. You ignored the food under your nose as the Queen described the unknown girl; curly blonde hair with beautiful bright blue eyes, with a passion for the piano. You sighed in awe, already fantasizing about the lucky Princess - pondering if she liked chasing frogs like Satoru and you did, or if she preferred the comfort of the indoors. Your elbows hit the table while you imagined the other little girl in your head and the Queen was quick to snap at you. “Manner’s child!” your girlish smile fell as your hands hit your lap, apologizing for disrespecting her.

As you were about to king yourself, you stopped, mentioning the Princess before the moment you stacked your piece onto the other, irritating the ever competitive Satoru. “Just king yourself already!” he groaned, wanting nothing to do with the conversation you were striking up. Surely you had to be doing it just to rub in your impending victory. 

“She would look so good in your family’s color,” you sighed, continuing the game while you fantasized yet again about the Prince’s perfect future. A girl with blue eyes and fair skin like Satoru surely would look amazing in the Gojo’s signature blue. 

“I don’t care!” he shouts, visibly irritated by the conversation’s topic. You shake your head, assuming he was just being a boy about it; refusing to entertain the idea of a wife and a whirlwind romance. You didn’t know and you wouldn’t ever know but Satoru didn’t like the idea of a picture perfect wedding and a throne to call his own because he just wanted to play with you forever. It was childish, sure, but he was a child when he first realized where his thoughts were on the matter. He hated the idea that you would eventually become like a picture on the wall, always there in the background but never to be seen or heard from. It wouldn’t be until he was a little older that he realized being married doesn’t sound all that bad if you really enjoy their company. If he could be himself and they could make him laugh. ‘That wouldn’t be too bad’, he told himself.

As you both grew together, his body went through awkward phases - causing strange urges he couldn’t seem to satiate for the longest time - always missing something he couldn’t quite place until the day he accidentally saw the supple skin hidden under your skirt. Things really started to heat up from there and he spent far too many days ‘sick’ in his bed with his fists under the covers. Of course you would be there afterwards with a cool towel to wipe the sticky sweat from his face after checking up on him. It was then he realized there must be more to a wife than simple friendship.

𝜗𝜚

Satoru’s days pass without much purpose, He essentially ignores Peter upon realizing the man was utterly useless, choosing to dictate his own day much to everyone’s dismay. He skips scheduled lessons, lets his food go cold during meal times, walks aimlessly around the gardens, and most of all checks in the kitchen for your face. He doesn’t see you any of the countless times he checks and he scoffs louder every time he peeks his head in just to see your figure missing among the sea of silver pots and pans.

Satoru ‘excuses’ himself from his untouched dinner on the last day of the week, heading to the stables and saddling up his own horse before taking off down the field and into the forest he took you through just two weeks before. Riding his horse had been the only solace for him while his thoughts seemed to eat him from the insides. The uneven earth beneath the two of them managing to ease the rising tide of his emotions for the time being. He spent a while out in the forests bordering the Gojo’s land, finding the winding path capable of maintaining his attention and giving him no time to ponder the reality he was facing back at the palace. He doesn’t want to head back but his bones start to ache and his mouth begins to parch so he makes his way to the stables, hopping off his stallion as he got closer to its open doors.

It’s there that he stops abruptly, seeing you for the second time that week. Satoru couldn’t recall a time he went that long without seeing your face. You hadn’t noticed him yet - too busy dragging a bale of hay twice your size into one of the many stalls the stable held. You were out of breath, covered in dust and sweat, your hair falling out of its ribbon that you used to keep it back and your face red from the constant strain of overworking your muscles. He decided to take a different approach from when he saw you in the kitchens, abandoning his horse to sneak up behind you, grabbing a strand of your ribbon and pulling it away, causing your hair to cascade down. You shoot up, turning around and seeing the Prince directly in front of you. The two of you were so close that your noses almost touched and you stood, frozen in fear yet again. Your heart beat rapidly; joining the chaotic rhythm Satoru sported the moment he finally saw you after all these days apart. “Let me help you,” he murmured, messily collecting your hair into a bundle at the back of your head, concentrating hard as he tied the ribbon tight into place. “There,” he purred, petting your head as he tried to smooth out any bumps and you felt your resolve just about shatter from the tender touches of his slender fingers against your skull. 

“Prince Gojo,” you almost dry heave when you finally speak, “That was inappropriate,” you speak so softly, not believing in the words that come out of your mouth. His eye twitches at your words, taken aback from the title you used with him. The two of you were alone and yet you saw it fit to call him that? The title he begged to be removed from your vocabulary even against his parent’s demands. The one you never used in an empty room such as this. 

“Why haven’t you been waking me each morning?” he asks, dumbfounded even by his own words. He wanted to ask what was with the disgusting title. He wanted to ask why you practically ran when he saw you in the kitchens. He wanted to ask why his best friend all but vanished from his life only to be inhabiting the halls he walked for hours, searching for you. You don’t meet his frantic eyes when you mumble something about taking on new responsibilities and he doesn’t mean to but he shouts, “Why would you do that?!” He isn’t sure he can swallow down the crashing waves of acid threatening to spill from his pretty pink lips due to the way you were staring down at your shoes instead of into his pleading eyes. Betrayal is hot on his mind and accusations sit heavy on his tongue when you don’t respond but he collects what little control he has left; unwilling to accept you could be so indifferent to him. “What could possibly cause you to act like this?!” his voice is shaky and his eyes turn glossy waiting for your response. 

You want nothing more than to cling to his body, to feel the protection of a man with choices in his life but you can’t cling to him and none of his choices are his to make. His whole life had been paved for him the moment his head crowned and the Gojo’s welcomed their baby boy into the world. You reflect on the Queen’s warnings and focus on the truth of the matter. Satoru had no say in his life; bound by rules and customs created long before his tentative eyes could take in the size of his fortress. One day he would be required to marry - against his wishes if it came down to it because as the only heir he had no choice. You weren’t just saving your parents from a life on the streets or yourself from being forever shunned as the girl who dared tried to dirty the Prince - you were saving Satoru from the heartache of watching that happen to you. The words you were about to say needed to be said. No matter how loud your pulse was in your ears threatening to make you go deaf. “I grew uncomfortable with our closeness,” his eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, immediately scoffing but you continue on, “It’s inappropriate and wrong and it is dirtying your image.”

He is completely aware of how loud he becomes this time, “I don’t care about my image!” His legs feel like jello from how terrified your words make him. You almost lose all your logic upon seeing his tall body collapse in on itself, his shoulders slumping and knees buckling as his world turns upside down. He looks like a frightened child and you want nothing more than to embrace him and tell him you didn’t mean any of it. But you have to. For you. For your family. For Satoru. You have to mean your next words. 

“I care, Satoru. I care that people think you might like me-”

“And what if I do?” His face is unusually red when he says this. You realized later after he walked away that this was his way of finally speaking the unspeakable out loud. The thing the both of you knew yet neither of you mentioned. The tension that turned the air thick and made it hard to breathe without him. He had revealed his heart that beat solely for you. 

“I don’t feel the same,” his world collapses at your words but he doesn’t show it. His face finally steels and his jaw sets. He says nothing. He gives you nothing. Choosing to walk away and get back on his horse rather than get on his knees and beg you to admit that you don’t mean the words you say. 

𝜗𝜚

His ride through the forest follows the same path; his horse jumping over the same thick roots in the ground and weaving through the tall trees that hid the estate from wandering eyes. Instead of the usual peaceful breeze of every ride he’s had before, the wind seems to knock the air from his lungs instead of filling them; causing him to cough and splutter as he desperately tries to fill his failing organs. His body racks with sobs and his tears hit the white mane of his favored horse. He doesn’t bother to wipe the snot from his nose when he can hardly keep himself steady; refusing to stop in fear he may lay down onto the earth and never arise again. 

Against his better judgment, Satoru’s body is found lying on the dank forest floor at around half past midnight. The servants sent out to find the Prince are in awe at the pitiful scene in front of them: laid flat on his back, staring up at the starry sky between tree branches, face swollen from hours of crying, and body shivering from the unforgiving temperatures of the night. They scoop him up without a fight and carry him back. He doesn’t bother to explain himself to the servants.

No one comes to visit him once he’s finally tucked into bed. 

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p4┊

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(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)