#i don't need her to be ace as well she can fuck who she likes not my business

[atalana]

supergiant you can't keep toying with my heart like this re: aro mel

[shippy-from-apocalypse]

Soulmates can be Fun and they have some REALLY creative prompts, that being said they're usually not my Cup of tea

I get frustrated because they have SO MUCH potential (and when they're really explored it can make GREAT stories) but mostly it stays surface level

Curious, I haven’t really seen any real trend among aspec people and the ship tropes they do like, however I think I kinda seen a trend in what they dislike. So in the tags tell me if you’re aspec (ace and/or aro) and if you dislike soulmates, and I mean the most straightforward romantic non subverted kind (but if there are versions you like feel free to elaborate)

[sweetbunpura]

Filled with Static...

Summary: Yuu was already fed up before coming to Playful Land and now that it's over... She has some very choice words for she has reached her boiling point...

Sorry in advance~

Yuu watches with hollow eyes as Fellow and Gidel depart without having to face the consequences of their actions. Everyone jokes around her about what they just went through, but static is rapidly and quickly filling Yuu's ears. She moves away from the group and makes her way down a street, unaware of the sound of footsteps behind her. A hand lands on her shoulder and she's quick to slap it off.

"Ow, rude much?"

Yuu turns to see Ace with his arms crossed. "What?"

"Just wanted to know why you took off like that."

"Why do you care?"

"Wow, jeez." Ace scoffed. "I knew you were snippy from the start, but I thought that would've cleared up. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? What's the big deal!?" Her voice echoes throughout the small area of the docks. "Ace, are you fucking blind as well as a total fucking moron!?" She jabs her hand to where Playful Land used to be. "We almost got turned into puppets and sold off because of you guys!"

"Hey, we got out in the end!"

"No, we didn't. If Fellow hadn't gotten that phone call, we'd be goners." The others have stopped a few feet away, but Yuu ignores them. "And you're cracking jokes about it."

"Well, destroying the park was-"

"I mean about the whole thing, you brainless baboon." She snarls. "From the start, you ignored all the fucking warning signs that said you should stay far away from this man. Did Azul tricking you not ring any bells in that empty head of you?" She tapped her finger against Ace's forehead. "And even when you were told that the warning signs were blaring red, you still ignored them."

"Hold on." Ace growled. "Why am I getting signaled out?"

"Oh it's not just you, Ace." She points behind him. "It goes double for those cacophony of idiots."

"Wow, rude, Yuu-chan..." Cater mutters.

"I get that you guys are like this. It's all fun and games to the ones who can use magic." She shakes her hand in a mocking way. "But this is just another scar on my body that I do not need." She pulls up her sleeves to show the overblot scars...as well as a new wooden looking scar on her wrist. "You guys think this is a joke, when it's not. You're risking my life with your guys shit."

"You came with us!" Ace argues.

"Cause I had to make sure my useless excuse for a fucking cat didn't keel over and die!" Yuu shouts and begins shoving Ace. "You. Treat. Me. Like. I'm. Expendable." She pushes him back. "I'm a living being too, jack ass, what I have done to warrant being treated lower than dirt? Every time this happens, and I almost lose my life in the process... how many more times is this going to be an almost before it actually happens?"

The red head narrows his eyes and snorts. "If you hate it here so much, why don't you just go back home?"

"Ace..." Lilia tries to say but is cut off by Yuu socking Ace in the face and sending him to the ground.

"NEWS FLASH, ASSHOLE!" The look in Yuu's eyes are murderous. "I'VE BEEN TRYING TOO! YOU GUYS CAN JUST CALL UP YOUR FAMILY OR SEND THEM A QUICK TEXT TO CHECK UP ON THEIR WELL BEING! YOU'RE A PORTAL AWAY FROM HOME! I HAVE NOTHING, I GOT NOTHING, I HAVE NO FAMILY HERE AND I AM REMINDED OF IT EVERY DAY BY YOU GUYS AND BY CROWLEY!" Tears well up in her eyes. "I've had it here. I'm gone. I'm leaving NRC, I'm getting far away from you guys." She turns to leave and rubs her eyes. "Enjoy the rest of your fucking lives."

"Yuu-chan!"

"Shrimpy!"

"Herbivore, come back!"

"Potato!"

"Henchhuman!" Grim tries to follow after her only to lower his ears and back up as she shoots the darkest glare she can muster at him. "I'm....I'm..."

Yuu disappears into the morning crowd that had gathered to learn what the commotion was about. She did not return to NRC that day...rather Crewel had found her, curled up outside his temporary house.

"Oh, Pup...." He pulls his coat off, wraps it around the crying young lady, and helps her inside.

[harunayuuka2060]

Chubby MC: ...

Ace and Deuce: ...

Ace, Deuce, and Chubby MC: YOOOOOOOO!!!

Ace: You're working as a server?

Chubby MC: Yeah. Well, I'm an all-rounder here.

Chubby MC: That means I also take care of the punks who dare to try to mess this place.

Deuce: Do they pay you a competitive salary though?

Chubby MC: It's good. The owner's a nice, old lady. She pays me just fine.

Chubby MC: What do you want to get, by the way?

Ace: Oh. Everything's on the menu.

Chubby MC: Huh. You're rich now?

Ace: Let's just say I'm, *slicks back his hair*

Ace: "Climbing the corporate ladder".

Chubby MC: Arrogant bitch. How about you, Deuce?

Deuce: I'm a sergeant now.

Chubby MC: Nice.

Ace: Why didn't you call him an arrogant bitch?

Chubby MC: Because Deuce was never a bitch.

Ace: We graduated and all and you still have favoritism? Fuck you!

Deuce: Ace, I can arrest you for that.

Chubby MC: Yeah. Arrest this motherfucker.

Ace, Deuce, and Chubby MC: *laughs*

Ace: Damn shit- So you really run the whole place, huh, except being the owner.

Deuce: It reminds me of when you once worked in the school cafeteria.

Ace: Yeah. You handled hundreds of orders.

Deuce: And then you blew up when someone yelled at you to hurry up.

Ace and Deuce: *laughs*

Ace: Ah, good old days.

Ace: Anyway, you married now?

Chubby MC: No.

Deuce: Why not?

Chubby MC: Well, I don't look like someone somebody would fall in love with.

Ace: ...

Ace: You're trippin'.

Deuce: Yes, I agree with Ace. You're the type of person anybody would love to be with.

Chubby MC: You mean in a "platonic" way.

Ace and Deuce: ...

Chubby MC: See?

Ace: Er, how about Jade?

Chubby MC: He has a fiancee.

Ace: Oof. Okay, you're going to be alone.

Deuce: *whacks him*

Chubby MC: *has arrived home*

Vivienne: *is waiting for them*

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: Where's Jade?

Vivienne: There's something he needs to deal with, but he promised he'll be back before midnight

Chubby MC: Ah.

Vivienne: ...

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: What do you want to eat?

Vivienne: King Crab.

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: Good. That's what I bought.

Vivienne: *cracks the crab's leg with her sharp teeth*

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: *puts the scissors away*

Vivienne: You have excellent cooking skills.

Chubby MC: Thanks.

Vivienne: ...

Chubby MC: *noticed her staring*

Chubby MC: What?

Vivienne: ...

Vivienne: I'm curious… You seem like a tempting bite.

Chubby MC: ...

Chubby MC: What?

Jade: Is this everything?

His mother: Yes. Thank you, Jade.

Jade: You're welcome.

His mother: By the way, how's your relationship with dear MC?

Jade: *chuckles* We've been doing well.

His mother: I'm glad. Your father is becoming impatient, you see. If I hadn't intervened, he would've forcibly brought MC here.

Jade: Thank you for doing that.

His mother: You're welcome~.

[yuyu1024]

Vanilla

Pairings: Seonghwa × y/n

Genre/tags: non idol, fwb

Warning: 🔞🔞🔞 smut, fluff, pet names (babes, baby, love etc.), cursing, mention of fingering, unportected/protected sex, kinks (size, breeding, tits, etc)

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 1.2k

Disclaimers:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: just smut. Just had an idea becausw of that clip.. 😆 i swear im a good person.

Anyways. Have a nice day

----------------------------------------------------

You fell asleep in the car. Wooyoung is driving, San is at the passenger seat at front while you and Seonghwa are at the back.

You do get car sick a little especially if its a long drive so you force yourself to sleep whenever you are travelling. But you are glad Seonghwa is sitting next to you and so he can be someone you can lean on when you don't feel the best. Coz you know, for sure he will do whatever it takes to make you feel better.

Hmm...sometimes a little too better.

***

While Wooyoung and San are busy arguing at front, talking about something who is right or wrong when it comes to planning this short trip, Seonghwa is busy making sure you forget about feeling dizzy. He knows that the magic of his fingers in your pussy will be the trick to get your senses up high.

"So fucking tight..." He whispers as he pretends to fix the blanket you have on both of you, to cover the sinful act underneath. "But you take my fingers so well..." he smiles as he dig deep in you, like knuckles deep.

"Hmmm..." you try to control your breathing and make sure you are quiet. "Faster..." you push your body closer to Seonghwa as he puts his free hands over your shoulders so that you are leaning on his body. "Faster..."

"Baby... they will hear it if I go faster... you're so fucking wet." He whispers, bending his fingers in your to prove his point. You can literally hear your wetness. You are so glad that the two are playing some music. It helps with thr cover up

You close your eyes, enjoying the friction and the motion inside of you whilst hugging his torso for support. He is pushing in and out of your pussy slow but deliciously.

"I'll go and buy snacks... you guys want any?" Wooyoung asks as he parks the car.

"I want everything." San answers all smile. "But I need to go to the bathroom first. I need to pee really bad."

"Okay... go there first then just follow me to the food section." Woo says

"A bottle of water and lemonade for us... potatoes, hotteoks and dried squid." Seonghwa answers

Wooyoung looks back and sees that you are sweating and looking a bit pale. "Is she still not feeling well?"

"She's doing better... she just does not want to move yet coz she still feels dizzy..." Seonghwa answers. "I'll keep her company while you two buy food and drinks."

"Okay. I'll put the AC on blast to cool her down..." Woo did that. "Text us if you think of anything more that you need okay?"

"Sure."

And then the second, Wooyoung and San slam their doors shut and make their way to the bathroom and the foodcourt, you finally opened your eyes and mouth to let the loudest moan you've been holding on for the longest minute.

"Fuck!" You gasp pushing the blanket off your body, revealing Seonghwa's busy hands finger fucking you. "Damn it...fuck...so fucking good... aaahhh..."

Your hips kept moving along with his movements. You can't help but spread your legs even more for him to see your wet pussy.

You don't even give a damn if a someone walking pass by the car might see you. Though you know you are safe as the car is tinted and its so bright outside that they won't even have time to really adjust their vision.

"You're such a good girl keeping quiet..." he kisses you on the forehead and then your lips. "You're so naughty wanting me to go faster... do you want Wooyoung and San to hear us? Do you enjoy having the idea of us getting caught? Hmm...?"

You grab him by his face and suck the life out of his mouth. Seonghwa really knows how to turn you own and make you feel so naughty. The way he speaks to you and his choice or words. Simple yet very effective for someone vanilla you. "God, I can't wait to put my dick in you once we arrive at the hotel..." he hits the spot in you as he speaks, "And I would fill you up with my cum and make sure you'd come home with wanting more..."

"Yes! Please!" You cry. "I want you in me..."

"You do?" He smirks and then playfully bites your tit. "You're not scared? I didn't bring any condom with me..."

"I don't care. Just.. ahh!" You take a deep breathe as he picks up his pace "Seonghwa...more faster... please.... I need to come... I'm going crazy!"

"Sssshh.... don't worry... I'll give you what you need." His smile is so evil. But so alluring.

You can't believe it that your friend, one of your bestfriend will be the guy who would wreck you like this. The guy who will give thrill into your sex life. The guy you are willing to be fucked by without protection even though technically you two are not dating.

You're just... fucking.

"S-seonghwa... please!"

He then pulls his fingers off you, getting a whine from you. However, that didn't last long as he positioned you to face him and looks at you like you are about to be devoured.

He goes to put both your legs over his shoulders to have more access and dive his face to your pussy.

"Holy fuck!!" You groan as you felt his tongue go ham over your wet folds. He eats you like its his breakfast, lunch and dinner all together. "Fucking fuck!" You throw your head back, holding on to whatever you can grab on and cry your climax like you've never climaxed before.

This is one heck of an orgasm. You leaked and at the same time cried with tears of satisfaction.

"You're so delectable..." he says licking his lips that is glossed up by your cum. "Let me clean you up baby..." he finds a small towel in his bag and wiped you up. "I don't want them to see your juices... its all mine to taste and see..."

"My... underwear..." you say, catching your breathe as you fix yourself up.

"What underwear?" He tilts his head, biting his lower lip.

"Seonghwa..." you giggle as you hit him om his chest. "Give it back to me..."

He shakes his head. "No baby..." he leans in and kisses you on the lips. You can taste yourself as he pushes his tongue in your mouth. "I'll return it... once I'm done planting my seeds in you tonight... I need to see you get mind blown later..."

"I'm always mind blown when we fuck... you know that."

He arches one brow and looking at you with suched pleased look. "Oh baby, it's different when it's raw... you'll like it even more..."

"I can't wait."

He kisses you on the corner of your lips once more before he puts the blanket back on you. "I'll text you my room number and code later."

[loveandleases]

Full Disclosure, I went through PAGES of tags to find the Pregnant-by-Chris!MC asks so I could revisit the angst, and it also got me wondering. How would the ROs react if MC ended up pregnant with their kid? And with regards to the F!ROs and trans ROs, how would they react if THEY got pregnant by MC? I'm down with this going in a fluffy or angsty direction, as you gathered from my search for the previous asks about it, so answer however you like!

Oh noo. I swear I'll get to work on the masterpost so you can find things easier, it's been a long time coming and I need to stop procrastinating. I feel like I did this ask before...but I'm not positive. So I'll do it again with how the RO's have developed. Below the cut~ (Tagged with pregnancy for those who don't want to read.)

❤️ Cam - Ec-fucking-static. At first. Cam would be so pleased because finally his own family. Not that MC and Em weren't already. He would give all of his love to his child, unlike what he got from his parents. Then there would be the problem. What if he's just like his parents? What if he's unable to love them the way they need or support them when they need it. MC would have to have an honest heart-to-heart with him.

💙 G - Very nervous at first. There are a lot of things to consider such as school and childbirth. Is their current living space even safe for a kid? And what if MC or G has more than one kid, it's possible. G would need a bit to kind of come to terms with it. Once they have, G is golden. They're happy and don't bother to try and hide behind their cool demeanor.

Now if ex-G/MC had gotten pregnant. It would be so painful for them, because would MC want to be in the picture or would MC allow them to be. If the breakup still happened and MC had gotten with Chris, G would fight with everything they have to see their child, or to give MC the chance to see them. (it's bittersweet)

💚 Kara - So she would be scared more than anything. Happy comes way later, once she's sure this is what she wants. Because for Kara, she doesn't really get to make her own decisions so much of her life is decided for her. If her first real big decision is having a kid, she's going to ace it. First off by having a chat with her parents (who would to overstep), then MC's parents. About what is allowed and isn't. The grandparents don't get to dictate the pregnancy, the childbirth, the child. If they want to be involved then they will be expected to abide by Kara and MC's wishes or be cut out. That simple. (She will buy too many baby clothes ahead of time, it will be a problem)

💛 M - What!? Excuse you, whose pregnant? With a baby? Like an actual human being? How did this happen!? (This is M's reaction regardless of whose pregnant. )MC has to remind shocked M how in fact that did happen. In which case M turns blood red and refuses to look at MC until they've calmed down.) M is going to go through 5 stages. 1 being shock, 2 being really shocked 3 understanding 4 go back and repeat step 1, 2 and 3. 5 acceptance. Leading them all the way to joy. M will take a good bit before they get through those steps, but when they do they're happy, nervous but happy. M isn't sure how to deal with kids. If they have one should they just go ahead and have another too? M will want to call their mothers' immediately. Get some info about raising a kid and what to expect. They will order far too many books about kids and what to expect when you're expecting. (take their computer for their own good)

💜 Isaac - They very well might have a breakdown, and it's not due to not wanting to have a kid with MC. It's more of knowing that you're not promised forever, as someone who lost their mother. Isaac is going to take it hard. Because she will never get to see her grandchild, and Isaac will never get to have that moment with her. Now onto how they feel outside of that, Isaac will struggle. Because they realize they have something else to lose, and to someone who is afraid of committing due to that it's not an easy situation to be in. They would need reassurance, that this is what MC wants. That they'll work hard, and together will do their best for their child. Isaac wants to be there for everything, every checkup, every milestone. All of it. Proudest parent ever.

🖤 Ardent - The amount of breeding jokes to be told : 14. The amount of tears shed: Over 50. Which he will deny with every breath. They're happy tears. Happy to have a family with MC, happy for his niece to have a cousin to navigate the world with. He is too happy, so cocky. Rubbing MC's belly, giving it so many kisses. He did that, him! Can you believe it? Not to mention, Cupid is going to have to take classes now. That's the first step, Cupid learning how to behave around babies. Ardent is very big into reading, he will overread though. Like MC is going to learn the nitty gritty just like he is. Oh, and they'll probably have to move if they're currently living in the apartments. To a place with an actual yard, the kind his parents had back in Greece. MC will be spoiled, because Ardent will cook every meal. He will ensure MC doesn't have to life a finger, or even Cupid if they feel like they can't. He would be a great dad, plus he has been saving up dad jokes. I apologize ahead of time.

[asteroshearts]

My Type

Oh no! Nanami's wife is just Itadori's type!

Or the story of how, upon meeting Nanami's wife, Itadori just can't take his eyes off her.

Nanami x Reader

Tags: this story was referenced here, but can be read completely alone, she/her pronouns, discussions of body types, Itadori's a bit of a pervert here (but he doesn't actually see anything!! Nanami, however, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), typical anime flashing

Hey Ken: How are you feeling?

You: Like shit My fever got worse after you left

Hey Ken: I'll be home soon. Please take ibuprofen, drink lots of water, and rest as much as you can. I'm finishing up now.

You: I just checked our cabinet We ran out of Bufferin UGHHHH I feel terrible I fucking told Daiki from accounting that he should go home if he was coughing but he said it was fine AND COUGHED IN MY FACE And now look at me

Hey Ken: We're out? I'll pick some up on my way home while I grab our other groceries. Please wait for me until then. Take a nap if you can. You're just going to get more exhausted thinking of the idiots in your office.

You: I looked online, delivery is going to take over an hour I'm getting dizzier I don't want to wait I'm going to go to the Matsukiyo near us to get it myself

Hey Ken: What?

Hey Ken: Don't go. I'll pick it up.

Hey Ken: Darling. Read my messages.

Hey Ken: Pick up the phone.

(10) Missed Calls

Several moments ago…

Itadori already thought that today got off to a weird start.

To begin with, it wasn't Ijichi in the driver's seat to pick him up today, but Nanamin. It also wasn't the Jujutsu Tech standard vehicle, but a nice, sleek, and expensive Porsche.

"W-Woah! Nanamin!" Itadori called then. Eyes wide and bright at the polished paint that glistened in the heavy sunlight. "Nice ride!" he said giddily, running his fingers across the aerodynamic doors. Popping his head up toward Nanami's window, he said, "This must've cost you a fortune!" And he thought that Gojo-sensei spent crazily.

"It was a gift," Nanami flatly said. The boy gaped at him like a fish. But who would just give away a car like this? They had to be really close — or maybe he had saved some rich guy and he thanked Nanamin by giving him a brand new car! The boy's eyes shone. Maybe one day he could get a nice gift like — "Get in." The doors unlocked.

"Hiya, Ijichi-san! Must be nice not driving for once, huh?" While marveling at the car's clean interior, he hopped into the back seat, feeling the leather under his hands and the cool blast of the AC hit his sweaty hair after being in the summer sun.

"Good morning, Itadori-kun," the dark-haired man said with a nervous smile. The car rumbled beneath them as Nanami turned the engine back on. "Nanami-san is surely giving me a nice change of pace — "

"Our duties will not change," Nanami stated, turning the wheel. "Ijichi-san is still required to do his job, as well as you, Itadori-kun. Don't get distracted." The pink-haired boy pouted in the backseat. "It just so happens that I have urgent errands to run after this, so time is of the essence."

Turning into an alleyway, Nanami smoothly hit the brakes and put the car into park. "Let's go."

Luckily for him, the curse was a low-level one mostly used for teaching Itadori the ropes, and the two of them managed to exorcise it in record time. For someone who was just thrust into the world of curses several weeks ago, he was doing well. As well as anyone could in his situation.

The boy was still a bumbling newbie, but he had a good head on his shoulders and was a strong opponent for most curses that they dealt with on a daily basis. Lips twitching into a frown, the blond thought that if Gojo didn't poison the youth's mind, surely Yuji would continue having a nice and mature head on his shoulders.

Nanami had to drop Ijichi off at his next assignment, but other than that, all he needed was to drop Itadori off at the college and then he could return to his sick wife. Paperwork still needed to be done, but luckily he could finish that at a later time. Unfortunately, last night you had a major headache and showed signs of an upcoming sickness this morning.

He had just barely convinced you to not do remote work and just take the day off to rest instead. However, as he checked on his messages with you, he found out that you were insisting on double — no, triple mask to go to the pharmacy yourself. All while you had a 37.5-degree fever.

He tried to call you once, thrice, and all of them were left for voicemail.

Cursing inwardly, Nanami leaned his head back on the headrest. Normally, the blond man was the arbiter of restraint and level-headed thinking, but all of that went out the door at the mere thought of his sickly wife dragging herself out in the street to get some medication. Why did you have to be so stubborn?

"My apologies, Itadori-kun." Nanami pushed up his glasses. "I need to take a detour before I drop you off at your dorm. I apologize for the inconvenience."

The boy blinked owlishly. "Oh that's alri — GH!"

Without another word, Nanami quickly turned left, jolting the teen to the side from the momentum, increasing the speed of his vehicle, and raced down the streets.

Within five minutes, Itadori felt like a dog left in the car as his "owner" raced into the nearest grocery store to grab medication, vegetables, and grains for the upcoming, proverbial storm. Even as the cashier tried their hardest to ignore the intense stare of the tall blond man before them, every second that ticked by as they scanned his purchase felt like hours.

As soon as he nearly threw his money on the tray and took all of the grocery bags under his toned arms, Nanami was off again, shifting into drive and ignoring the speed limit all the way back home.

Nanami could've nearly run into his apartment's chain-link garage doors if it had lifted any slower, allowing him access to his own underground parking before he landed in his designated parking spot within three seconds.

Racing out the car, he took all of the grocery bags over one muscular arm and was prepared to run off until he remembered he had a teen in the backseat.

"Itadori-kun," he said hurriedly. "Can you — " The man stopped himself short.

He originally planned to tell the boy to wait for him in the car, but caught sight of the boy's skin gleaming with sweat, reflecting one of the garage's low lights. Summer was brutal right now, with insane humidity that made Itadori's hair damp as if he had just taken a dunk in water. Even though the parking garage was cooler than it was outside, it was still unbearably hot, not to mention cruel, if he had forced the teen to just sit here and deal with it. Itadori had already waited in the hot car when he went out to grab groceries, and although he rolled the windows down, suddenly Nanami remembered all of the articles of puppies and toddlers dying in the back of cars during the summer.

Sighing, the man pushed his glasses up. "Behave yourself. Come with me."

"Ken?" Eyes wide, you held the door open. Keys were lifted up in the air in the man's hands, but you had beat him to the chase and opened the door before he managed to get the key in the keyhole. "Oh! I didn't know that you were bringing a guest." Stepping back quickly, you realized another person was standing behind your husband. "If I had known, I would've worn a surgeon mask!" Alert, you said. "Hold on, I'll go grab one right now — !"

"No need. We'll make this fast." He was about to take a step forward, but then realized that the student hadn't moved an inch ever since you opened the door. "Itadori-kun?"

As still as a statue, pink slowly rose from the boy's neck all the way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't rip his gaze from you for even a second. Although your hair wasn't done and your face was covered, he could tell just how beautiful you were.

Furthermore, you looked just like the pin-up models he had in his room — you were just his type! Your little chemise barely ended at the middle of your thigh, and although everything important was covered up, it left little to the imagination with how the fabric hugged your waist and hips. As you held the door open for them and leaned forward, the loose triangle top of your nightgown was teasing him with the exposed curves and valleys of your chest.

You were too hot!

"Itadori-kun," Nanami repeated, irritated.

Way too hot for Nanamin!

"Nanamin! You didn't tell me that you were married!" Eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets, Itadori almost thought they had gotten the wrong apartment when you had just opened the door. While his mentor was an attractive man, it was like a mountain and a molehill to the teenager. Not to mention that this strict and serious ex-salaryman was hitched! To a babe no less!

Certainly, you didn't marry for personality!

He couldn't imagine what your daily life was like while Nanamin talked about doing the bare minimum and never smiled.

Raising an eyebrow, Nanami followed Itadori's stare to your state of dress. You weren't even wearing your indoor slippers, and you were absolutely breathtaking even if you had a dark clay mask over your face. He wasn't an idiot, and he could feel his blood vessels pumping harshly. Trying to remind himself with mantras of how Itadori was just a stupid, hormonal teenager, and you could dress how you wanted, and that he especially couldn't beat up Itadori. Pinching his nose bridge, the man couldn't even look at the boy. "My personal life and my work life are completely separate. I wouldn't anno — !"

"But you don't even wear a wedding ring!" Itadori insisted.

"Why would I wear my rings when my daily job involves fighting and getting messy?" Nanami rhetorically asked, stepping through your door with all the groceries in one go. "Wedding and engagement rings are investments, and I'd be damned if I lose my rings and be forced to inflate the wedding ring industry any more than I already have."

Grinning, you beamed at Itadori. Only you really know how seriously Nanami took the "three month's salary on rings" tradition, especially on his sorcerer's salary. "Now you know, Itadori-kun! If you catch him committing adultery while he's out without his ring, you'll shank him for me, right?" Placing both of your hands on your husband's waist, you laughed when you playfully tried to shake him. Of course, that didn't do much. Your man continued to stand there like a stone statue, as if you tried to rock a brick wall while he remained wholly unamused.

From your weak roughhousing, all that managed to do was drop your spaghetti strap from your shoulder. With your dress threatening to slip, Nanami sighed and quickly stood in front of you, blocking your body from Itadori's gaze. He carefully and slowly pulled your shoulder strap back up your body before you managed to flash the poor teen. When you looked up, his brown eyes met with yours.

Gently rubbing your bare shoulder with his large hand, he asked, "I thought you said you were going to Matsukiyo?"

"I was," you rasped out, voice raw from all the coughing you did. "But then I took one step outside and it was too damn hot." Laughing weakly, you said, "I slunk back like a vampire the second the humidity hit me."

The man sighed deeply, and his shoulders dropped in relief and exhaustion. While he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off from worry, he was glad that you ended up not going out after all.

"Why didn't you pick up my calls?" he said deeply, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

"I was making okayu with kombu," you explained. "Sorry," you said genuinely, "that's all I managed to make for our dinner today."

"I'm upset that you cooked in the first place," Nanami scolded. "You should be resting. I said I'd take care of it. Why were you in the kitchen when the hot fumes could make your fever even worse?" Turning away from his nagging, you pouted.

"I'm hungry though…" you mumbled, far too much like a spoiled child, and Nanami was sure, in some way, that you were spoiled, of his making too. He always prioritized you and let you have your way. "And I already ate the miyeok guk you made."

"You could've ordered delivery," the man countered.

"Nothing interested me there."

Inhaling deeply once more, Nanami tried to calm the upcoming headache he felt. There was no point in arguing with you, not when you were coughing and sick like this. "Stay here. I'm going to whip up a bowl of okayu to have with your medicine," the man ordered before he picked up a blanket you had draped over one of your couches and wrapped you in it like a burrito. When you opened your mouth, your husband only sternly repeated, "Stay."

Playfully rolling your eyes when he left to go to the kitchen, you puffed out your cheeks in mock irritation. Closing the door to your apartment so the AC couldn't escape anymore, you turned to the teen who was standing awkwardly in your home.

"Aw I'm sorry," you said, voice sounding like sandpaper again. "You know, Kento's kinda strict, but I assure you he's a good man," you said gently. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

"M-Me?" Itadori sputtered. "I'm not the one taking care of him! He takes care of me! Um…" The boy grew demure when he realized he had no way to address you.

"Oh," you realized you didn't introduce yourself. "I apologize! I totally forgot! I know you since Ken talks about you and Ino all the time, but I didn't realize you didn't know me!"

Itadori gasped. "He talks about me?!"

"Of course! All good things!" you assured. "Even though Kento seems like a meanie, he's a genuine person and wouldn't exaggerate, so he wouldn't praise you unless he absolutely meant it." You knew that this was the teen that hosted Sukuna, the King of Curses. It was a heavy burden for someone who wasn't even an adult yet, and your heart grew heavy at the thought of this boy's fate.

"Before I forget…" Quickly, you ran to your bathroom and cleaned off your clay face mask before you returned with your bare face wet and a cloth Pompompurin headband keeping your hair out of the way. "I need to introduce myself."

Now Itadori was sure that you two were married with the way you introduced yourself nearly identically to your husband. With your back straight and shoulders squared, hands flat, and arms straight at your side, you closed your eyes and bowed.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Itadori-kun." You acquired your business card out of thin air and held it out for the boy. "My name is Nanami [Name], and I'm a senior project manager at Yurukawa Corp. If you or your friends ever get tired of exorcising curses and want to look into engineering, you can ask me!"

Huh?

It was too silent.

When you rose and looked up, you realized that your husband had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Standing in between you and Itadori, your husband's stern expression could freeze hell over as he stared down at Itadori with a frown, arm outstretched and his hand held up — right where Itadori's eyes would've seen your cleavage when you bent over to bow.

"Itadori-kun."

"Y-Yes!"

"We are going. Now."

The car was completely silent the entire way to the dorm rooms. Quickly shifting the car into park, Itadori jumped at the sudden stop.

No one said a word. The entire ride felt like the air was heavy enough to drown in.

"Itadori-kun." Nanami's eyes were hidden by the reflection in his glasses.

"…Yes?" the boy squeaked out, pressing his index fingers together.

"Never ogle my wife again."

[whimsimille]

KEMPS!

Minsung x Fem! reader

Summary: Where Minho uses sex and rough words to forget how shitty his life is. It all works pretty well until he meets two people that can only ruin his game.

alpha x alpha x alpha

Word count: ~ 10000

Warnings: angst with happy ending, ptsd mention, coping mechanisms, sex, smut, +18, toxicity, use of alcohol and drugs, knotting, piv, creampie, roughness, dom and sub undertones, f and m receiving, oral, anal, dp, light bondage, breeding kink mention

-------------

"When will I see you again?"

"There we go again."

Every time, the same scene played out: him tying off the used condom, thumb and forefinger working in sync while his gut churned with familiar self-loathing. His tanned legs slid from between the cheap cotton sheets like a lizard escaping midday heat and his shirt, reeking of cigarettes and bearing the evidence of pink lipstick on its collar, returned to its place along with what remained of his dignity.

"You didn't answer my question," she insisted, sitting up with her breasts exposed to the stale air. Her nose, red-tipped like she was fighting back tears, twitched as she caught his scent beginning to sour. "Why do you always run away like this? Is it because I'm a lower-class omega? Because I work at a convenience store instead of some fancy office?"

He had a headache, the kind that started at the nape where his undercut needed a trim and crawled upward. The kind that made his eyes throb as if someone was performing brain surgery with a rusty hammer. He needed to go home. He needed to go to her. He needed a scalding shower to burn away the shame. He needed to stop fucking thinking.

"Listen carefully because I won't repeat myself," he drawled while adjusting his hair in the mirror. "I'm not interested in seconds. I don't do repeats. I thought I made that crystal fucking clear. Or should I draw you a diagram?"

"But Minho-ssi..." she started, biting her lower lip in a way that probably worked wonders on lesser men.

"Cut the honorifics bullshit, Marina. We just fucked; we're not at a business meeting." He yanked his belt through the loops. "Got any coffee in this shoebox you call an apartment? And aspirin. Definitely need aspirin. My head's fucking killing me, and your omega pheromones aren't helping."

"Kitchen," she responded, finally pulling the sheet up to cover herself as if modesty had suddenly become a priority. Her nose wrinkled involuntarily as her own bitter strawberry pheromones filled the room, mixing with his acidic alpha scent to create something that smelled like regret. "First door on the right. We're out of sugar though. And for the last fucking time, it's Melissa. Not Marina, not Mariana. Me-li-ssa, you entitled knothead."

"Perfect. Sugar's for people who can't handle reality." He fished out the crumpled pack of Marlboros from his back pocket, tapping one against his wrist. "Don't wait up, sweetheart. Or better yet, don't wait at all. Find yourself a nice beta who'll remember your name and buy you flowers or whatever the fuck it is you're looking for."

And he wasn't lying, not even a little. Despite the fact that this omega—Melissa, definitely not Marina or whatever the fuck he'd been calling her—could do things with her tongue that would make a Catholic priest renounce his vows and had a laugh like wind chimes in a summer breeze, Minho simply didn't keep dead weight in his deck. Melissa was nothing but a two of clubs in a hand that needed aces.

It was like a game of Kemps, the same one he played on Sunday afternoons with his friends drunk on soju in Chan's apartment. In the game, four players formed two pairs, each receiving four cards from the French deck. The objective? Get four matching cards before the opponent, discreetly signaling your partner to shout "Kemps!"—a wink, absently scratching your nose. If you were wrong and shouted without your partner having four matching cards? You lost points, just like in real life you lost your sanity. If you missed your partner's signal? More points lost, like the nights of sleep he lost thinking about persistent ex-lovers. It was a game of observation, timing, and strategy.

In the game, as in life, Minho was an expert at this. A pair of toned legs here, full lips there, a cheeky smile elsewhere—he picked up the cards that caught his attention and handed useless ones to the other players. Players like Hyunjin, with his preference for frustrated betas with colored hair, or Felix, who had a thing for alpha literature students who wore thick-framed glasses and quoted Bukowski between one orgasm and another. Minho had been doing this with men and women for years, receiving his cards—their sweaty bodies writhing beneath him, their moans, their phone numbers saved as "NEVER answer"—and discarding those that never made sense with his game. Simple. Quick. Practical. Avoided hysterical screaming at three in the morning, endless crying, ex-lover sex fueled by regret, pathetic relapses fueled by cheap vodka.

But then, on some October night, with the smell of burnt caramel not so characteristic of an alpha and jazz playing softly, there was his jack, the highest card in the deck after the ace. The jack that passed from hand to hand each round like a curse, disrupting the flow of the game until the next round started and the card kept circulating, destroying strategies and ruining plays that seemed perfect on paper. Everyone had to deal with it eventually, but no one wanted to play that card.

That night, as you moved above him with the precision of a hunting feline—hips undulating like waves breaking on the beach, slender fingers tightening around his throat until he saw stars—you had become his jack. The card he held so tightly that the corners were starting to crease, even when he should have discarded it long ago.

Serious relationships and monogamy were never his style. How could he be? His mother taught him that lesson at 8 years old, after swallowing an entire box of Rivotril and writing an apology, not to him, but to her ex. He still remembered the sound her nails made scratching the wooden floor while she convulsed, glazed eyes fixed on the ceiling as he screamed for help. But for you? For you he had tried. Really tried.

"Stay," he whispered, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his fingers traced meaningless patterns on the condensation-slick window. His reflection looked pathetically hopeful. "Just... stay for breakfast this time." A pause. "I make decent scrambled eggs."

You shifted on the bed. "Define 'decent.'"

"Edible enough not to kill you," he replied with a laugh that sounded too raw, too honest. "Maybe even good enough to convince you to come back for seconds."

It turned into months of domestic bliss—or his twisted version of it. Months of biting back territorial growls whenever you walked in carrying traces of other wolves' scents. "Just work," you'd say with that infuriating half-smile, and he'd nod like the lovesick fool he'd become. He ignored Chan's concerned glances over soju shots, Changbin's muttered warnings about alpha-alpha relationships being psychological warfare. Tried playing the reformed playboy even when some omega calling herself @sexygirl22 slid into his DMs with explicit photos and "Remember last week's quickie in the club bathroom?" while you danced barefoot in his kitchen, humming "Somebody to Love" and making condensed milk pudding like some domestic deity.

"This pudding..." His finger traced the edge of the mold, stealing a taste of caramel. The gesture was so childlike, so unguarded, you had to suppress a fond smile. "Tastes exactly like my grandmother's."

"Your grandmother made pudding?" Like a flower in bloom, your legs opened naturally as you leaned over the counter. A few centimeters up, the hem of your shirt—it was actually his, stolen a week ago—rode up, exposing that constellation of freckles on your hip that he loved mapping with his tongue.

"Every Sunday after lunch," he answered, eyes fixed on the exposed bit of skin. "She used to say that sweets made with love tasted different."

It's that in the beginning it was simple: you rode him like you were born for it, scratching his chest and whispering obscenities in his ear that would make even a demon blush. It was about smoking a joint on the balcony at three in the morning, your skilled fingers rolling the joint while he kissed your thighs still trembling from orgasm, waiting for the knot to deflate. "I'm getting addicted," he would murmur against your skin, and you both knew he wasn't talking about the weed. It was about the sacred ritual of watching you dress in the morning: first the black lace panties, then the bra that made your breasts look like works of art, the thigh-high stockings he loved to remove with his teeth, the jeans that hugged your curves like a possessive lover. It was about how you never asked about the scars on his left wrist but kissed them with such reverence that sometimes he found himself crying after you left.

"Why do you do that?" he asked one night, voice thick, his fingers digging into the sheets.

"Do what?"

"Kiss me... like that. Like they're not scars. Like they're not..." he swallowed hard, "ugly."

"Because they're not just scars. They're part of you."

Until it became something different: he stopped you from running out after sex one Sunday morning, pulling you by the waist for another round in the jacuzzi. That's when he discovered you were a teacher at a school in the south zone and taught literature to rebellious teenagers, while he was heir to a chain of five-star hotels spread across Asia. That you loved Seoul with its violence and chaos, the underground bars and narrow streets full of people, while he longed for the peace of Jeju, with its deserted beaches and the smell of tangerines in the air. That you had three rescue cats—Sylvia, Virginia, and Edgar, all named after dead writers—who were your fur children and that, surprisingly, he developed a genuine affection for these creatures, even when Sylvia vomited hairballs on his shoes.

It happened when you stopped being a scheduled fuck and started pulling out, one by one, his fingers from the little bag he always kept next to his heart. You never even said anything, never stopped him from leaving and always left the door ajar, because you hated trapping people and making them feel obligated to stay.

"You can go, if you want," you would always say, wrapped in messy sheets. "You don't have to stay."

And maybe it was exactly that—that frightening freedom, that lack of demands—that made him want to stay. Until he didn't want to anymore.

That's why he bailed.

With your makeup all over the bathroom counter and your underwear discovered beneath the bed like evidence from a crime scene, he couldn't stand you taking up space like a terminal illness. Couldn't stand your caramel perfume and alpha pheromones impregnated in the pillows, your toothbrush next to his, you parading naked through the 300 m² penthouse as if you owned the place. Hated you burying your face in his neck when he woke up screaming at 3:47 in the morning.

"Shh, I'm here," you would murmur, running your fingers through his damp hair, your lips brushing his temple. "It was just a nightmare."

But the real nightmare was the dangerous glimmer of hope he began to see reflected in his own eyes every time he shaved while you played in the bathtub, humming "Here Comes the Sun" by The Beatles.

One day, his hand froze mid-stroke with the razor, watching your reflection dance in the fogged mirror as soap bubbles crowned your head. With the sun creeping through the window and painting your eyelashes gold, Minho's fingers twitched around the razor handle. His phone buzzed in the counter (probably that cute bellboy from the Peninsula Hotel confirming their afternoon rendezvous, or maybe the yoga instructor sending another photo of her impossibly flexible poses). He should check it. Should definitely not be watching you emerge from the water like some fucking deity, all glistening skin and grace.

His thumb hovered over the screen, already pulling up his contacts list. Delete them all. Ask you to be his. Only his. The thought made his stomach turn even as his pulse quickened and he gave up.

At the sound of his loafers, you lifted your head while he perched on the edge of the tub like some lovesick fool, watching droplets trace paths he'd memorized with his tongue.

"Keep staring like that and I might start charging admission," you drawled, reaching for the shampoo.

"You're going to make me deaf with that caterwauling, little alpha," he shot back. "And since when did you become such a Beatles fanatic? Thought you were more of a 'We Will Rock You' kind of bitch."

"First of all," you said, pointing the shampoo bottle at him like a weapon, "the Beatles are fucking transcendent, you philistine. Second," your lips curved into that infuriating smirk that made him want to bite them bloody, "you were the one moaning 'Yesterday' in your sleep last night. Right after you called me 'baby' and tried to spoon me."

"That's bullshit and you know it," he snarled, but his ears burned red at the tips. "I don't fucking cuddle."

"Oh really?" You stretched languorously, water sloshing against the tub sides. Wet toes brushed his thigh, leaving wet prints on his expensive slacks. "Because I distinctly remember you nuzzling my neck and whimpering when I tried to move away. Face it, Min," you purred, and the nickname sent a jolt straight to his groin, "you're going soft on me."

"Keep dreaming, sweetheart," he managed, even as his throat closed around the lie. "I just needed something warm to stick my knot in."

"Mhmm," you hummed, unconvinced. Your foot slid higher up his thigh. "That's why you sent flowers to my work last week? Because you needed somewhere to stick your knot?"

It was like watching an orange tree growing in the middle of his chest: first just a timid sprout, then branches spreading between his ribs, until the roots began to intertwine with his veins and arteries. And when the first white flowers bloomed, perfuming his entire circulatory system with possibilities, he knew he needed to cut it at the root before the fruits ripened and he found himself addicted to the bittersweet taste of your presence.

"Minho! What the actual fuck? It's four in the fucking morning, and you're here smelling like a distillery had an orgy with a perfume store."

"Still looking like a snack, my little alpha. Even with all these..." His hand made a vague gesture at your new appearance, "changes."

You watched as he staggered slightly, his bloodshot eyes trying to focus on a fixed point. Fragmented memories of a yellow taxi and questionable decisions in dark alleys flashed through his mind like a silent film. That you were different—unrecognizable, maybe—was the only thing that was certain. Your hair, now long and sprinkled with platinum highlights, framed your face in a profane halo. The thorny tattoo serpentined down your neck, disappearing beneath the loose collar. Beneath the typical caramel, you had a masculine, woodsy scent that made him sick to his stomach.

"You know what's funnier? I always knew you would do this. Always knew you'd leave me and then show up at my door wanting to stick your knot in some hole. It was just a matter of time, wasn't it, Lee Minho?"

Sylvia, that four-legged traitor who had always preferred him to you, was now rubbing against his ankles while trying to reach her favorite human. You pushed her away with your foot.

"Let's... let's talk properly, love. Smoke a joint, whatever. Like the old days, remember?" His hands were shaking so badly he had to shove them in his jeans pockets. "We always solved everything after..." A laugh escaped his lips. "Fuck, why is it so hard to talk about feelings without being high? Must be... dunno, must be the age, right?" The taste of blood in his mouth intensified. This time, he had bitten his tongue.

You let out a scoff—a sound that seemed to have been torn from the depths of your throat with a rusty hook. "Age?" Your head tilted to the side, and for a moment, Minho saw his mother in that same movement—moments before she swallowed the pills. "You were twenty-fucking-seven when you stood in the middle of Changbin's birthday party, so wasted you couldn't even spell your own name, and announced to everyone that I was, what was it again? Oh right! 'just another desperate hole begging for your premium alpha cock.' All because I had the audacity to ask if we could try being exclusive. Remember that night, Minho? Or did you drink that memory away too?"

As you eventually allowed Sylvia to come closer, he saw the cat rubbing her muzzle against your ankles as though she was aware of the precise location of the pain.

Love should heal, shouldn't it? Should stitch together the parts that were never united, fill the voids that echoed inside the chest like empty rooms from childhood. Minho knew this better than anyone—he had been sexualized his whole life, used and discarded like a broken toy.

"You don't have that right," you continued. "You don't have the right to show up here reeking of whiskey and..." Your hands gestured in the air, searching for words. "And talk about 'old times.'"

Minho swallowed hard, watching how your fingers now trembled against the doorframe—not from nervousness, but from contained rage that made your knuckles turn white.

Until his lungs pleaded for air, he had tried everything to fill the void you left: cigarettes. Strange bodies in his bed that never reached the right places, hands that tried to stitch him back together but always using the wrong thread. Like thieves in the dark, all stealing pieces from each other, but never finding what they were really looking for.

"Just let me in, yeah?"

A sob escaped his throat before he could contain it, words tangling in his mouth. Sylvia was now sitting between the two of you, her tail moving in a hypnotic rhythm.

You had been the only one to see through the cracks, the only one who didn't try to fix him like he was a puzzle to be solved. The only one who understood that sometimes a cat's rough tongue on the heels could mean more than a thousand empty words of comfort.

But he wouldn't, couldn't show you how much he loved you. Sex and dirty words were safer territory, familiar ground where he could pretend this was just another meaningless encounter.

"Do you still have that purple vibrator?" The words slurred out as his alcohol-heavy tongue caught on his canines. "You could use it on me today, yeah? Make me beg like I used to?"

Like a desperate merchant hawking counterfeit goods in some back alley, it was pitiful how he still attempted to use sex as currency. As if his body, marked with the fingerprints and teeth marks of countless strangers, was the only thing of value he had left to barter with. As if you still wanted that particular damaged merchandise. You had long since learned that his empty promises and fleeting affections were not worth the price.

"I guess old habits die hard, huh? Still the same horny kitten as always, Minho-yah."

At the sound of that old endearment, Minho's narrow hips jerked forward involuntarily, his lean body betraying him like a puppet with tangled strings. A bead of sweat traced the sharp line of his jaw as the lavender scent of his arousal began to saturate the air, mixing with the sour notes of whiskey and desperation.

"Just... just one more time," he begged. "I promise I'll disappear after. I swear on my mother's grave..." A sob ripped from his throat, more wolf than man. "I just need to feel you one more time. Need to remember what it felt like when someone actually gave a fuck about me."

It was almost poetic, you thought. The way Lee Minho could transform desire into pathology, how his lust manifested in muscle spasms and empty promises whispered through teeth that probably cost more than your yearly salary. His eyes, usually a warm chocolate brown, had taken on a reddish tinge that reminded you of blood diluted in water.

"Get out of here, Minho." You clutched Sylvia closer, her warm body and steady purring acting as a shield against the tsunami of alpha pheromones he was trying to drown you in. Her claws pricked your skin through your thin shirt. "Before I call the police."

"You'd never. You care too much; that's always been your problem."

"Try me." Your fingers found your phone in your pocket. "The last bus passes in ten minutes. But I think you'd prefer if I called your private driver. What was his name again? The one who always brought you aspirin and clean clothes after your... episodes?"

Minho's hand flew to the collar of his leather jacket, adjusting it with trembling fingers. "I don't need your fucking pity."

"I know you don't, Minho." You sighed, watching his shoulders hunch forward like a wounded animal. "But I also know you probably left another black credit card in the lost and found of whatever overpriced bar you were drowning in tonight. I bet you left without any cash. Again. Just like that time at The Rose, when you tried to pay for your cab with your Rolex."

"How the fuck..."

"Love, everything okay?" A sleepy voice emerged from the shadows of the apartment, warm and rough like honey mixed with gravel. The powerful scent of freshly ground cinnamon and handcrafted coffee filled your apartment and permeated the door, causing Minho's nostrils to uncontrollably twitch.

"Fucking hell," Minho muttered under his breath, watching as a figure emerged from the shadows.

Dyed an impossible shade of midnight blue that seemed to swallow what little light remained in the hallway, the man's hair stuck up in wild tufts, as if he'd been wrestling with insomnia rather than sleeping. A thin, silvery scar bisected his right eyebrow. Despite his cherubic cheeks and full lips, there was something lethal in the way he held himself, the casual violence of a loaded gun left on safety.

"Who the actual fuck are you supposed to be?" Minho's words slurred together.

The stranger's bare feet made no sound as he crossed the distance between them. Silver rings caught the fluorescent light as his hand found your waist, fingers splaying possessively across your hip.

"Han Jisung," the man's voice was deceptively soft. His tongue flicked out to play with the silver ring in his lower lip, a gesture that drew Minho's attention despite himself. "And you must be the infamous Lee Minho. The one who thinks it's acceptable to harass people at four in the morning because his wolf is feeling lonely."

The air grew thick with competing pheromones, your caramel sweetness, Minho's lavender, and Han's cinnamon colliding and transforming into something acrid and metallic, like blood left to oxidize. Minho's temple throbbed visibly, and he chewed the inside of his cheek until copper flooded his mouth.

"Christ, is this what you're into now?" Minho's eyes raked over Han's form--the scattered tattoos visible beneath his thin tank top, the messy blue hair, the multiple piercings. "Trading in a pure-bred for some street mutt with a DIY paint job?"

Han's scent soured, turning sharp enough to make your eyes water. "Babe," he addressed you without taking his eyes off Minho. "Should I call the cops, or would you like to watch me teach this trust fund pup some manners? Because I'm really curious if he's as tough when he's not marinading in scotch."

"Oh, sweetheart," Minho purred, stepping close enough that his breath ghosted over Han's face. His fingers played with the collar of Han's shirt, twisting the fabric like he was testing its breaking point. "You've got quite the mouth on you. Makes me wonder what other tricks you know." His gaze flicked to you over Han's shoulder, lips curling into something cruel. "Always did have a weakness for strays with attitude problems, didn't you, love? Tell me, does this one beg as prettily as I used to?"

Han didn't back down, but you saw how his fingers contorted—not into fists, but like claws ready to tear apart.

"Get. Your. Hands. Off." Gripping Minho's wrist, Jisung twisted it until he heard the gratifying sound of tendons being stretched to their breaking point.

What happened next made your breath catch in your throat. Minho—proud, arrogant, never-submissive Minho, who once told an alpha CEO to go fuck himself with a golden spoon—let out a sound that was pure, instinctual submission. His head tilted, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat where fading hickeys told stories of nights you didn't want to imagine. 

The gesture was so fundamentally wrong, so against everything you knew about him, that for a moment you thought the expensive whisky had finally corroded something essential inside him. But then his eyes found yours across the space between you—wide, confused, and terrified—and you saw it: his alpha, for only the second time since you'd known him, recognising another as superior. It had been with you the first time. Normally curled in that angry smirk, his lips quivered.

"What the actual fuck..." With surprise, Jisung's eyes grew wide, and the scar through his eyebrow stretched taut. His grip loosened fractionally, more from shock than mercy. "Did you just..."

"Ah," Minho's voice cracked, desperation bleeding through as he fought to regain control. As he attempted to balance himself against the wall, his hands trembled. "So the puppy has fangs after all. Want to show me how to use them properly, Han Jisung-ssi?"

It played out like a slow-motion car crash, stunning in its destruction. Jisung slammed Minho against the wall with enough force to make the cheap prints rattle in their frames. Something dark and broken slipped out of Minho's lips as his forearm pressed against his throat.

"So fucking predictable," Minho rasped around the pressure on his windpipe, his pupils blown so wide the brown was almost swallowed by black. "All you baby alphas..." His fingers found Jisung's bicep, nails, leaving crescent moons in the flesh. "So easy to provoke. So desperate to prove yourselves. Tell me, blueberry, how many others have you pinned like this?"

"I said," Han snarled, pressing harder until Minho's breath came in wheezing gasps, "shut that pretty mouth before I shut it for you. You reek of spoiled lavender and mommy issues, street pup. Did she not hug you enough? Is that why you're here, trying to ruin what isn't yours anymore?"

Following that, there was too much movement to follow—a haze of tattoos and high-end clothing. Suddenly Minho had reversed their positions, pinning Jisung against the wall. Han grunted in surprise at the impact, his teeth clicking together so forcefully that you winced with pity. 

In an attempt to humiliate the wolf who had dared to assert its superiority, Minho's thigh pushed upward between Han's legs and degraded him. Trembling but determined, his fingers tangled themselves into Han's blue strands.

"Who's the street pup now?" Minho tilted his head, letting his lips brush the shell of Jisung's ear. "So docile suddenly. Where's all that protective alpha posturing? Or does it only work when you're trying to impress my leftovers?"

What tore from Jisung's throat wasn't anything you'd heard before—not in your years of teaching children, not in nature documentaries about wolves, not even in your darkest nightmares. Kind of sound that made your bone marrow freeze and your hindbrain scream danger. At a frequency that made your teeth hurt, the cheap metal numbers on your door vibrated. A picture frame crashed to the floor.

Your own alpha stirred beneath your skin like a serpent uncoiling, recognising the precipice of violence you were all balanced on. 

Sylvia pressed herself against your arms. Her tail lashed the air like a whip, pupils blown so wide the green was just a thin ring. You knew, with the bone-deep certainty of prey watching predators circle, that this wouldn't end with just bruised egos and wounded pride. The territory—you, this hallway, perhaps even this entire narrative—had already been marked with invisible blood.

"That's enough! Both of you, stop this-"

But the words died in your throat as Jisung moved. One moment he was pinned against the wall; the next he was pure kinetic energy unleashed. His body curved like a question mark before springing forward, teeth finding the vulnerable juncture where Minho's neck met.

The sound that followed would haunt your dreams for months: wet, obscene, like overripe fruit being crushed under combat boots. Blood, startlingly bright against Minho's shirt, bloomed like a macabre watercolor.

—-----------

As soon as Minho stepped out of the rehabilitation center, his fingers began the routine dance of coffee, lighter, and cigarette. His eyes, still heavy from group therapy, focused on the cracks in the concrete while he tried to juggle the cheap coffee cup and red Marlboro. A curse that reverberated throughout the alley was evoked by the hot liquid that trickled down his hand.

"Fuck's sake, I can't even do this right," he muttered, licking the coffee that dripped between his fingers.

It was a total and utter catastrophe for him. First, Seungmin had shown up at his apartment at 6 AM with some green tea mixed with ginger and honey that looked more like rat poison. "For detoxing," he'd said, pushing the steaming cup into his hands. Then, Bang Chan practically broke down his door, dragging him out of bed while yelling something about "corporate responsibility" and how the shareholders were concerned about his erratic behavior. As if he didn't know the hotel franchise was crumbling under his fingers since you left him.

To top it all off? Jisung was the embodiment of his headache. An irritatingly attractive alpha who had the gift of making his blood boil—and not necessarily in a good way.

Since the incident that led them to the police station (and subsequently to the emergency room, where Minho needed five stitches in his neck and had to pray the bite hadn't been right on his scent gland, linking Jisung to him in a way that gave him chills just thinking about it), the judge had sentenced them to five months of group therapy. Two hours per week sitting in a circle with other "violence-prone individuals," as Dr. Park—a beta who always smelled like old socks—liked to call them.

And now, to make matters worse, whenever he had the chance, Jisung liked to rub his scent gland against yours right in the middle of the room, masking your natural scent. It was as if he wanted Minho to witness firsthand how you had moved on—the way he adjusted his motorcycle helmet every night after the session, his fingers lingering on your nape; how he whispered stupid jokes in your ear that made you laugh in that way that used to be reserved just for Minho; how he made sure to leave visible marks on your neck, transforming everything that once screamed "Minho" into cinnamon and a blue-haired alpha.

"Hey, princess, still haven't learned how to drink coffee without making a mess? Or do you need me to teach you how adults do it?"

Eyelids fluttering, Minho closed his eyes. After four months in this therapeutic hell, his fingers, now bitten down to raw flesh, involuntarily contracted, imprinting his palms with tiny crescents.

"Jisung, I thought we'd agreed to keep our distance outside of sessions. Or is your memory as short as your self-control?"

"Yeah, but then I saw you here alone," Jisung approached. The smell of cinnamon and coffee invaded Minho's personal space like an unwanted heat wave. "And I thought: 'What a waste.' All this drama, all this tension... for what?"

Carelessly, Minho propped one foot on a crushed trash can and leaned against the filthy alley wall. The cigarette hung loose between his chapped lips, smoke dancing in lazy spirals around his face.

"Go fuck yourself, Han."

"Your ex 'little alpha' is doing that quite well," Jisung responded, running his tongue over the piercing in his lower lip provocatively. "Thanks for asking."

Minho clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The taste of cheap coffee still burned his tongue when he raised his eyes to face Jisung. There was something there, hidden in the shadows of those puppy eyes, that almost made Minho choke on the smoke—something hungry, dangerous, electric. Jisung seemed to be planning something behind those long eyelashes, and Minho recognized the familiar crossroads: run or face it.

He should run, of course. Especially after Han had made his alpha behave like a submissive puppy with a simple touch to the wrist. But Minho never had a sense of self-preservation, and if he was going to die today—if Jisung decided to finish what he started that night, now that you weren't here to stop him—well, maybe it would be an appropriate end to all this mess.

"What do you want?"

Old combat boots scuffing the concrete, Han stepped forward. Gently, he reached for the cigarette trapped between Minho's lips. The touch was brief, but it sent electric shocks down his spine, as if someone had connected his nerves to a car battery. Han's eyes, dark as spilled coffee, never left Minho's as he twirled the cigarette between his fingers before crushing it under his sole.

"Sleep with us," Han said simply. "One night."

Time seemed to freeze. Minho felt his toes curl inside his shoes, as if searching for something to grip onto. Like a bird in a cage, his heart pounded against his ribs, and his tongue felt too heavy for his mouth.

"What the fuck?" The laugh that escaped his throat sounded hysterical even to his own ears. "After all that shit at the police station? After the stitches?" Unconsciously, his fingers brushed the scar on his neck.

Han shrugged. "You think I don't notice?" He moved closer. "How your eyes follow her during sessions? And how you stare at me when you think I'm not paying attention? How your pheromones change when I'm around?"

Minho knew your story with Jisung—it was impossible not to know. In the corridors of the rehabilitation center, the whispers reverberated like poisonous snakes. How you, the beloved suburban teacher, had started frequenting Han's studio to cover old scars. How the tattoo sessions turned into confessions, then into coffees shared in paper cups, then into stolen kisses against walls covered in faded flash tattoos. How Han had restored each broken piece of you—not with empty words or grandiose promises, but with small gestures: americanos left in paper cups with your name always intentionally misspelled, colorful post-its hidden with silly cat drawings, nights spent simply holding you while the world collapsed around you. How he spoke of you with a kind of reverent love that made Minho want to vomit—because he only knew how to express affection through bruises and cutting words.

But if Han loves you so much, why is he here offering you up like a piece of meat?

"You're sick."

Han tilted his head. "Maybe. But so are you. And her..." He paused, letting the word hang in the air like smoke. "She wants us. Both of us."

"Spare me this bullshit," Minho spat the words. "You talk like she's your property. Like you can just throw me into your bed like a new toy and expect me to..."

"Don't be naive," Jisung interrupted, taking another step forward. Tattooed fingers found Minho's chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact. "She has more free will than both of us combined. And knows exactly what she wants." His thumb traced Minho's lower lip, collecting a drop of blood where he had bitten too hard before bringing the same finger to his mouth. Minho almost moaned at the sight. "Just like I know exactly what you need. What all three of us need."

"You don't know shit about what I need."

"No?" Han teased, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "Then why are you trembling?" His fingers moved up to Minho's nape, playing with the short strands there. "Why is your heart beating so fast I can feel it from here?"

"Tell me then," Minho challenged. "What does someone as fucked up as you think I need?"

"Mutual destruction," Jisung murmured against his ear. The cold piercing made Minho's earlobe twitch. "The kind that burns everything to the ground and rebuilds something better from the ashes. The kind that only three equally broken people can create."

A sound escaped Minho's throat. His hands found Jisung's chest. He didn't know if he wanted to push or pull, if he wanted to punch that irritating smile or taste it.

"You're poison," Minho whispered, his nails digging into Jisung's chest through the thin shirt. "The kind that kills slowly."

"And you," Han smiled against his skin, "are too thirsty to care about the antidote."

-----------------------------

Your diaphragm fluttered like a moth stuck to your ribs as you let out a deep breath. Main focus? Not choking on the saliva accumulated behind the gag.

There you were, tied and exposed like an avant-garde artwork on Minho's carpet. With the city lights watching your debauchery like voyeuristic stars, the floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of Seoul's horizon.

A muscle in your left thigh spasmodically contracted, making the rope sink deeper into your flesh. It was a map of knots—legs folded and bound in a way that made you think of the origami cranes Minho used to fold when he was nervous. The hemp rope bit at two precise points: just above the ankles, where the bone slightly protruded, and at the top of the thighs, where the flesh was softest.

The metal spreader bar kept your legs open. Your pussy was exposed to the cold air of the penthouse and to the hungry gazes of both men.

From this height, you could almost convince yourself that the entire city was watching. Your wrists were bound with soft leather cuffs (Minho's contribution, always valuing luxury when it came to his house and sex toys), connected to the bar in a way that made your shoulders project backward, presenting your chest.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

It all started on one of those nights when the air conditioning failed intermittently, making an irritating noise that competed with the sounds of the city outside. A casual observation escaped your lips while you watched the shadows dance on the ceiling, alcohol uninhibiting your tongue and bringing up memories of Minho in therapy sessions—the way he would shrink in his chair, fingers drumming nervously against his knee, eyes jumping between you and Jisung like an anxious pendulum.

That specific night, you were sprawled on the Italian leather couch that Jisung so hated ("Who the hell spends so much money on furniture that sticks to your skin in summer?"), one leg hanging off the edge while the other rested on the back of the couch. The ice in your whiskey glass had long since melted, diluting the amber liquid into something more palatable.

Sitting on the Persian rug, Jisung's restless fingers were causing the strategically placed tears in his black jeans to further fray. The smell of caramel and cinnamon mixed with the residual aroma of cigarettes he had smoked earlier on the balcony.

"Jesus," you murmured, running your tongue over your dry lips. "Do you remember how he trembled? Standing there against the wall, with your hands on his neck..." Your voice failed for a moment. "Like a damn kitten lost in the rain. God, in all these years, I never saw Minho crawl back to anyone like that. Not once. I always... always gave him space to run when he needed it." A bitter laugh escaped your throat. "Never thought that after a whole year he'd still believe the door would be open, you know? That he'd still find..." You gestured vaguely with your free hand, searching for the right words. "...warm milk waiting."

Jisung tilted his head to the side, and he had that glint behind his eyes—that same look you saw when he was about to do a particularly painful tattoo on someone. "A kitten? What an... interesting choice of words, love."

You propped yourself up on your elbows so quickly that your head spun, alcohol and adrenaline making your heart stumble. Every vertebra in your spine screamed in unison as warning signals crackled through it. Shit. Shit. Shit."Ji, fuck, that's not what I—"

"Is that what you used to call him?" He interrupted while crawling towards you like a predator. "When he was between those thighs of yours?"

When Jisung's fingers found your ankle, your throat became parched. Just enough to remind you that he could, but not enough to cause pain, his thumb pressed the pulse point there.

"I bet it was." His other hand slid up to grab your knee, spreading your legs, "I bet you whispered 'kitten' when he had his tongue buried in that pussy of yours. That you told him what a good boy he was while he tasted you like you were the last drop of water in hell."

Since then, after each group therapy session, Jisung would extract your confessions like venom from a wound. Methodically deconstructed your sanity while fucking you against any available surface—the bathroom wall, the car's backseat, the kitchen table where you were supposedly meant to dine like normal people. He fed that part of you that you tried to keep locked away, the bitter and vindictive part that yearned to see Minho undone by both your hands. The words poured from your mouth unfiltered—how Minho's arrogant alpha became docile under your touch, the way his spine arched when you squeezed his throat ("Harder, please, harder"), how he begged for more when you fucked him with that ridiculously large purple dildo hidden in the second drawer of the dresser. How he moaned your name when you forced him to cum for the third time in a row, his muscular thighs trembling.

"Tell me more. How did he sound? How did he squirm? I want every dirty detail."

You swallowed hard. "He... he trembled. His whole body shook when he was too close. And he bit his lips until they bled, trying to hold back his moans. Sometimes... he cried."

"And when you tied him up?" Jisung played with the elastic of your panties, making small circles that made you squirm. "Did he fight against the ropes?"

"No," you answered, your voice breaking into a moan when he suddenly sank two fingers inside you. His thumb found your clit, making your thighs shake involuntarily. "He... God, Ji... he stayed completely still." Your nails dug into the leather couch when he curled his fingers inside you, easily finding that spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Fascinating," Jisung laughed, the low sound reverberating against your skin while he felt you getting even wetter around his fingers. "The great alpha Minho, reduced to a submissive and desperate kitten. I can almost see him now, tied up and begging." His fingers sped up their rhythm, making you arch your back. "Do you think he'd do the same for me?"

"Ji..." You arched against him, your fingers burying in his dark hair, pulling slightly. "Please!"

His smile was pure sin against your skin. "Please what, love? Use your words."

Out of your mouth came the thoughts in a torrent of desperation. "Can we... Can we fuck him? It's just sex! One night!" Your voice trembled, betraying the desperation you tried to hide under a facade of casualness. "Just... just once. Please! I need to feel him again. I need to see you destroying him too."

"Shh..." His fingers continued their merciless assault inside you while his other hand rose to squeeze your neck lightly. "It's okay, baby. I thought you'd never ask. We'll make our kitten meow so pretty for us."

---------------------------------------------------

Minho didn't bother with his belt, fingers trembling slightly as he unzipped his trousers. He reached in, fabric rustling against skin as he freed himself from the confines of his designer boxers.

"You remember how she's good with her mouth, right?" Jisung's voice was honey-thick with anticipation as he sprawled on the sofa, legs spread wide, one hand absently tracing patterns on the armrest.

"God, yes." Minho's throat bobbed as he swallowed, kneeling beside your head. His fingertips ghosted over your temple, barely touching. "She doesn't just do it—she worships. Makes you feel like you're her whole fucking world." The muscles in his thighs twitched as he shifted closer. "You have no idea how I missed seeing such a pretty alpha like this."

"Show him then, darling.” Jisung commanded. "Show him what that mouth can do."

Minho's hand trembled slightly as he reached for the gag. The buckle clinked softly as he worked it loose, his breath catching when your lips parted automatically.

Honestly, Minho wasn't in the right headspace to think. After a terrible day at the hotels, he was thinking about how he would cherish every moment of this one night ever since he got home and was counting down the minutes until you and Jisung arrived. This last relapse. This final chance to have the duke in his hands before handing him over to Jisung definitively.

Due to the ball gag, your lips were red and swollen and glistening with saliva.

"There's that pretty little mouth," Minho breathed, tossing the gag aside. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, spreading the wetness there. "Fuck, I missed this view."

He still kept some photos of you on your knees in front of him, lips stretched around his cock. Most were carefully cropped, faceless and anonymous—they could be anyone's lips, anyone's throat. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the reality of you here, now, looking up at him with those eyes that seemed to strip away every layer of his. He slipped his thumb between your parted lips, a soft groan escaping when you immediately began to suck, your tongue swirling around the digit the way you knew drove him mad.

"Open that pretty little mouth for me," Minho purred.

Without thinking, you opened your mouth and offered a silent sacrifice. As Minho pulled his thumb away, the velvet-steel heat of his cock replaced the metallic tang of the freshly removed gag, leaving your taste buds free of its lingering effect. A single drop of precum pearled at the tip, and your tongue darted out to catch it, earning a sharp intake of breath from above.

Minho was longer than memory served, thick enough that your jaw already ached. The familiar weight of him filled your mouth inch by devastating inch, while his hand cradled your cheek with deceptive tenderness. Your eyes watered as he paused halfway, not from discomfort but from the overwhelming sensation of having him here again, real and solid and trembling ever so slightly.

A groan tore free from his throat as his head fell back.

"Fuck..."

Jisung laughed from where he sat, drinking his whiskey. "Yeah, well, wait until you feel her tight cunt again."

The crude words sent a bolt of electricity straight to your core, making you clench helplessly around nothing but want.

When Minho drew back, his cock dragged against your tongue in a slow withdrawal that had your toes curling against the carpet. He thrust forward with the same measure, but you could see the tension coiling in his thighs, the way his abdominal muscles jumped beneath smooth skin. His gaze raked down your body like physical touch, lingering on the slick folds. The sight alone made his cock twitch against your tongue.

He couldn't remember any of the times when he was the one who dominated—it was always you who reduced him to incoherent pleas against the silk sheets. It was always you who destroyed and rebuilt him as you wished, piece by piece, moan by moan, until nothing remained but a broken alpha begging for more. It was always you who made his wolf—the same one that growled at anyone who dared challenge him in the hotel corridors—wag its tail and lower its ears, submissive as a newborn pup. But now, with the ropes biting into your wrists and Jisung commanding your every breath, he couldn't deny that this was more exciting than any fantasy his feverish brain could have conjured during the long nights without you.

As his hips started to move more purposefully and each thrust struck deeper than the last, his fingers became more taut in your hair. The wet sounds of your throat working around him filled the room, punctuated by his increasingly ragged breathing. Your nose brushed against the dark trail of hair leading down from his navel with each forward motion, inhaling the musky scent of arousal and expensive cologne that was uniquely Minho.

"Look at how well she takes it," Jisung observed. The ice in his glass clinked as he took another sip. "Such a good little cocksucker. Always knew exactly how to make you fall apart, didn't she?"

Minho's response was lost in a choked moan as you hollowed your cheeks, tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive underside of his cock.

Words slipped out between clenched teeth as he cursed in Korean due to the slight constriction that caused him to hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, fuck, I can't—" His voice cracked as you swallowed deliberately around him again. "She's still so-nghh... So fucking good."

Just before heat filled your mouth, you felt him pulse against your tongue. With a broken sound that could have been your name, he came with fingers that squirmed in your hair, gripping you almost painfully. Oversensitive and quivering, you forced him through it, draining every last drop from his dick until he had to back off.

"Jesus Christ," he staggered back a little and panted. Between your lips and his softening cock, a thin strand of cum-infused saliva stretched before shattering. "I forgot how fucking good you are at that."

Jisung's low chuckle made Minho’s vertebrae tingle in anticipation. "Oh, we're just getting started, aren't we, kitten?" Approaching from behind Minho, his footsteps reverberated on the hardwood floor. "Now scoot."

Minho obliged with the grace of a chastised cat, crawling a few paces away on hands and knees, his designer slacks dragging slightly against the floor. Only then, through the post-orgasmic haze that clouded his vision like morning mist, did he notice Han had undressed. Perhaps he'd blacked out for a moment and lost track of time.

"You doing okay, baby?”

As Jisung pushed deeper than Minho had ventured, you nodded enthusiastically around his cock, your eyes watering. Hissing through gritted teeth, your throat tightened around him. Minho watched in awe as the music sent chills down his spine.

"Fuck yes, look at her take it." Jisung's voice was rough with pleasure as he gripped your hair tighter, the slight pain making your cunt clench. "Such a good little slut for us, aren't you?"

Minho couldn't tear his eyes away from where Jisung's cock disappeared between your swollen lips. A drop of your arousal slid down your inner thigh, and his own spent cock twitched with curiosity. Your hips moved restlessly, searching for friction that wasn't there, and the diamond plug caught the light.

Unable to resist any longer, Minho crawled between your spread legs. Your scent hit him like a physical force—familiar yet somehow more intoxicating than he remembered. His tongue darted out to catch that glistening drop of wetness, tracing it back to its source.

Both men shuddered at the moan you uttered around Jisung's dick. Jisung looked back over his shoulder, pupils blown wide with lust as he watched Minho worship your dripping cunt. That wasn't the damn plan, but you were making such beautiful sounds that it made him reconsider.

"Well, well," Jisung purred, rolling his hips forward until you gagged slightly. "Looks like someone's eager to taste what's mine." His free hand reached back to tangle in Minho's hair, forcing his face closer to your heat. "Go ahead then, kitten. Show me how badly you've missed this pussy."

Minho needed no further encouragement. His tongue delved deep, gathering your wetness like a man dying of thirst. Above him, Jisung's thrusts grew more erratic as your moans vibrated around his length.

"That's it," Jisung groaned, his grip tightening painfully in both your hair and Minho's. "Make her cum on your tongue while I fuck that pretty throat raw."

You clenched again as you gagged. The sight made both men groan in unison.

While two fingers twisted inside you, locating that secret place that caused lightning to dance behind your eyelids, his expert mouth plunged deeper. Legs shaking as they clamped around his head, your spine arched off the floor like a bow being drawn. The tendons in your neck strained against skin as you fought for breath around Jisung's length.

Minho's free hand traced idle patterns on your hip, thumb pressing into the hollow there as if to anchor you to earth. He remembered how you used to fight this—how your alpha pride would make you bite your lip bloody rather than surrender. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were lost in a haze of sensation, caught between Jisung stretching your throat and Minho's wicked tongue.

"I missed those little sounds you make," Minho whispered against your inner thigh while his fingers never stopped their relentless assault inside you. "Remember how you used to fight it? All that alpha pride... But look at you now, dripping all over my chin like the prettiest little slut."

Your only response was a desperate whimper around Jisung the vibrations making him curse and grip your hair tighter. Minho's palm spread across your lower belly, feeling the muscles there coiling tight as a spring. He could read the signs in your body like a familiar book - the flutter of your walls around his fingers, the way your toes curled against the carpet, the endless slick that coated his chin and neck.

It should be impossible, actually. You were an alpha, technically more prepared to lubricate less than omegas and less sensitive, but that was never an obstacle for Lee Minho. He had a talent and he was going to rub it in the blue one's face.

"There we go," he purred, voice rough with want as his fingers found that perfect rhythm. His tongue flicked rapidly against your clit. "Show Jisung what he's been missing. Show him how pretty you look when you fall apart for us. Bet he's never seen an alpha gush like this before."

Unstoppable and overwhelming, the pressure increased like a tsunami. As Minho's tongue pounded viciously against you and his fingers struck that spot with devastating accuracy, your thighs trembled uncontrollably. Above you, Jisung's grip tightened in your hair as he felt your throat contracting around him, your gag reflex working overtime.

"Holy shit," Jisung groaned, watching transfixed as Minho buried his face deeper between your thighs, his nose grinding against your button while his tongue worked magic. "Is she actually going to—?"

“Yeah. Just watch, blue.”

Your muffled scream cut him off as the dam finally broke. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the saliva on your chin as you came hard around Minho's fingers. He moaned against your pussy, the vibrations prolonging your pleasure as you gushed over his hand and face. You thrashing beneath him, totally undone and beautiful in your surrender, made his own cock harden once more. He didn't stop, though, working you through each aftershock until you were sobbing around Jisung's length, your whole body trembling.

"Such a good girl," Minho praised, his tongue darting out to catch another drop of your arousal from his bottom lip. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he swallowed, savoring your taste like a man starved. "Always so fucking perfect for us. Still tastes like honey and sin."

"You okay, baby?" Han's voice was velvet-soft as he ran a loving hand down the center of your chest, fingers trailing fire under your tied arms and over the plane of your stomach. "You never let me see you like this before."

"Never saw her absolutely drenched like this before, did you?" Minho wiped his chin with the back of his hand, though his face remained gloriously debauched. A drop of your arousal caught the light as it rolled down the column of his throat, disappearing beneath his collar. "Takes someone who knows exactly what buttons to push."

“Funny how you think you know her better after abandoning her for two fucking years, kitten."

Minho's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, catching the light like a cat's in the darkness.

"I may have left." A cruel smile played at the corners of his mouth. "But at least I knew how to make her fall apart properly when I was here. Every." His tongue clicked against his teeth. "Single." Another click. "Time." His head tilted to one side, challenging. "Can you say the same, blue boy?"

Han’s scent turned sharp enough to burn, filling the room like smoke. "Continue running your mouth like that," his fingers traced patterns on your hip, but his eyes were fixed on Minho's throat. "And I'll show you exactly how I can reduce your precious wolf to a whimpering mutt while I spank that pretty ass of yours until it matches your fucking pride."

Your throat burned deliciously as you swallowed, tasting the remnants of both men on your tongue. Both of them turned back to you as you shifted, the ropes biting into your wrists. "For fuck's sake," you managed to rasp. "Shut up, both of you. Less alpha posturing, more fucking. I didn't get on my knees and let you both use my throat just to watch you measure dicks like teenagers."

"Uhm... Sorry, baby." Jisung's chuckle reverberated through his chest. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, thumb pressing against your swollen bottom lip. "Since it's this dumb alpha's special day," he shot Minho a look that made the older alpha blush, "I'll let him decide if he wants his knot in your tight little ass or that pretty cunt. Okay?"

With eyes darting between your dripping core and the jeweled plug that winked teasingly between your cheeks, Minho's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"I want..." his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one knee to the other. "Both." His fingers flexed at his sides, itching to touch Jisung but not daring. "Please, I need both."

One sharp look from Jisung—just a slight narrowing—and a disapproving click of his tongue was all it took. It was like watching a proud statue fall apart—the change happened instantly. Minho's shoulders curved inward, the proud line of his spine melting into something more pliant. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

Almost apparent, the aroma of cinnamon, lavender, and caramel wrapped itself around Minho like silk strands.

"Cunt," he finally whispered. "Please... I choose her pussy. Want to feel her squeeze around my knot like she used to."

A slow smile spread across Jisung's face. "Good kitten," he purred. His fingers tangled in Minho's dark hair, tugging just hard enough to sting. "Pussy it is. What do you say now?”

“T-Thank you.”

“There you go.”

Jisung's hands were surprisingly gentle as he worked at the knots, each brush of his fingers against your sensitized skin making you shiver. With a whisper, the rope slipped away and gathered on the ground like discarded snake skin.

"Up you go, pretty thing," Jisung whispered as he assisted you in standing up, his palm extending over the small of your back.

Your legs trembled like a newborn fawn's, muscles still quivering from the aftershocks. The room swayed and tilted like a ship in a storm, reality blurring at the edges until Jisung's bruising grip on your hip became your only anchor to consciousness.

Leather greeted your heated skin with a shock of cold that drew a hiss from between your teeth. Jisung's knee pressed insistently between your thighs, spreading you wide enough that the muscles burned. Behind you, Minho's breath hitched in his throat—a sound caught between a whimper and a growl that made your inner walls clench with need. The jeweled plug shifted inside you as Jisung toyed with it.

"Such a greedy little thing," Jisung worked the plug in torturous circles. "Look at how she's clenching around it, Minho-yah. Both holes just begging to be stuffed full, aren't they?" The metal caught the dim light as he finally eased it free, your body fluttering helplessly around the sudden emptiness.

Cool liquid dripped between your cheeks in a meandering trail that made you arch and whine. Jisung's fingers followed, spreading it with the patience of a man who knew exactly how to drive you mad. His knuckles brushed against your entrance with each pass, a teasing promise that had your thighs trembling.

"Here." The single word carried enough command to make both you and Minho shiver.

You heard rather than saw Minho scramble to take the offered bottle, his desperate pants filling the room like a prayer.

"Such a good boy for me," Jisung praised, and you could feel the way Minho's entire being seemed to light up at the words, his scent sweetening with pleasure. "Now get that pretty cock ready. Our girl's been so patient, hasn't she? Look how she's dripping for us both."

With a roughness that sent thrills down your spine—because this was still Han Jisung, still your beautiful, commanding alpha—he manhandled you onto the couch. Your back hit his chest with enough force to drive the air from your lungs, his heartbeat a rapid drum against your shoulder blades. Slick and burning hot, he nudged at your entrance with an insistence that bordered on desperation.

"Gonna split you open so pretty," he growled against the shell of your ear, teeth catching the lobe hard enough to sting as he lined up. "Show our little kitty exactly how an alpha takes care of what's his."

A broken sound escaped your throat as he breached you, the stretch bordering on too much. Sweat gathered at your temples, rolling down to pool in the hollow of your throat where your pulse fluttered.

"Holy fuck," Minho whimpered, his fingers twitching against his thigh as he watched you take Jisung to the root.

As Jisung tipped the last of the whiskey to your lips, the amber liquid burned a trail down your throat, and the crystal tumbler clinked against your teeth. "Gorgeous, isn't she?" His hips rolled experimentally, the new angle making your vision blur at the edges. "But we're not done yet, are we, kitten? Show me just how badly you want to wreck her."

Minho's hands shook as they settled on your thighs, fingertips leaving crescent-shaped marks as he spread you impossibly wider. Already slippery and swollen from his previous attention, the head of his dick pressed against your folds, a string of precum binding him to your heated flesh.

"Please," your voice cracked around the word as your fingers dipped between your legs, spreading yourself. "Need you both. Need to be filled completely." You crooked your fingers, showing him exactly where you wanted him, clenching around nothing. "Show me you haven't forgotten how to make me scream, Min."

What was left of his control was destroyed by the use of his nickname.

As if he had run for miles, Minho's chest heaved as his breath came in tattered pants that muddled the air between you. In an attempt to resist the urge to simply pop a knot in midair, the muscles in his forearms tensed up.

"Such a needy little thing.”

Behind you, Jisung's hands slid up your ribcage, leaving trails of fire in their wake before cupping your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked. "Stop teasing her. Unless you want me to take over completely and show you how it's done."

The threat in his voice made Minho's hips snap forward, the head of his cock finally breaching you. The stretch was exquisite—too much and not enough all at once, burning and perfect. Your walls fluttered around both men as they filled you completely, the dual sensation making your toes curl against the leather.

"Fuck," Minho choked out, his forehead dropping to rest against your sternum. "So tight. So perfect. Can feel you both. Can feel how well you take us."

Your fingers found their way into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as you felt him tremble. The touch made him shudder violently, his hips stuttering forward another inch as a broken moan escaped his throat. "Move, kitty," you commanded softly, tugging at his hair just the way you remembered he liked.

Minho's eyes devoured every inch of you with an almost feverish intensity, pupils blown wide as his hips snapped forward with urgency.

"Please," he rasped, voice cracking like autumn leaves underfoot. "Need to—shit, need to mark you. Make you mine again." His canines lengthened visibly, pressing against his bottom lip until tiny droplets of blood welled up. His inner wolf screamed for possession as it thrashed against its chains—you ought to be writhing beneath him in his bedroom, your scent blending with the remnants that, two years later, still clung obstinately to his sheets, taking his knot until the memory of any other touch vanished.

"Such pretty begging," Jisung purred, his breath hot against your ear. His free hand snaked around to grip Minho's throat, thumb pressing just hard enough to make the older alpha's breath hitch. "But you forgot something important, didn't you?"

No kissing, no claiming.

The movement caught Minho's attention, drawing his gaze up to where Jisung watched them both with predatory focus. Something molten pooled in Minho's stomach as the younger alpha's lips twisted into that devastating half-smile.

Slowly, Jisung brought the crystal tumbler to his own lips, throat working as he swallowed. A single drop of amber liquid escaped, meandering down the sharp line of his jaw. Minho's tongue darted out unconsciously to wet his lips.

The realization hit him like lightning—Han Jisung, with his ocean-deep hair, lip piercing and cruel kindness, would slot perfectly into the empty spaces in his bedroom too.

What the fuck? No, this shouldn't be happening! The metallic taste of blood invaded his mouth as he bit his lip hard enough to hurt, ignoring how your eyes opened to stare at him when you smelled it.

Fuck! He already has a jack in his hands; he doesn't need another one! The thought burned like acid in his throat. Minho needs to think about other omegas and whores—the girl from Midnight Club with purple hair and tongue piercings, the bartender from Red Light with tribal tattoos running down his tanned neck, the cat-eyed dancer from Velvet Underground. He needs to fuck women and men until the scent of cinnamon and caramel is replaced by sweat and cheap sex, until every memory of you is buried under a pile of nameless bodies, until he erases you from the system, erases Jisung and that damn smile.

He needed to fuck.

"Open that pretty mouth for me, kitten," Jisung commanded, pressing the cool rim of the glass to Minho's lips. His other hand remained firm around the older alpha's throat.

Whiskey flooded Minho's mouth, burning sweetly as it mixed with your lingering taste on his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the dual sensation of your walls clenching around him and Jisung's possessive grip on his throat. The familiar pressure began building at the base of his cock, his knot threatening to swell—breed mate claim mine mine mine.

"Eyes on me," Jisung growled, his fingers tightening until crimson starbursts exploded behind Minho's eyelids. "Show me what a good boy you can be. Match my rhythm—yeah, just like that." His thumb ghosted over Minho's bottom lip, collecting the bitter cocktail of whiskey and copper.

The muscles in Minho's throat worked convulsively beneath Jisung's grip, his pulse a frantic drumbeat against calloused fingers. Sweat-stained skin caused his shoulder blades to shift beneath his curved spine as he struggled to keep up with Jisung's vicious pace.

"I'm sorry, sorry, baby." Minho choked out, his rhythm growing erratic as his knot began to swell, balls hitting your rim with all his might. "Please, Alpha, I can't—need to—"

"Not yet." Jisung's voice was sin incarnate, dark honey and broken glass. His fingers found your clit, drawing tight circles that had your vision blurring at the edges. "Our girl cums first. Show her what those pretty fingers can do and then you are allowed."

When you felt the stretch of both cocks filling you completely, Jisung's teeth at your throat, and Minho's deft fingers joining Jisung's at your clit, the world shrank to pure sensation. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, vision whiting out as pleasure crashed through your system. You could feel yourself clenching rhythmically around them both, drawing them deeper as your body demanded to be bred.

"Holy fuck," Minho choked out, his hips stuttering as your walls milked his cock. "Can't—alpha, please—"

Jisung's growl vibrated through your back, possessive and commanding. "Cum for us, kitten. Breed her nice and deep."

As Minho emptied himself inside of you with a broken cry, the command in Jisung's voice caused his entire body to tremble, his knot to fully swell. You could feel him pulsing, filling you alongside Jisung's still-hard length. Your oversensitive walls fluttered around them both, and the sensation was almost too much, almost painful.

"Such a good boy," Jisung praised, his voice rough as gravel as his hips snapped up harder. His fingers twisted in Minho's hair, yanking his head back to expose the column of his throat. "Look at how well you take my commands, how perfectly you fill our alpha."

Minho whimpered, high and desperate, as Jisung's teeth scraped over his scent gland. His hips jerked helplessly, locked inside you by his knot as aftershocks of pleasure wracked his frame.

"Please," you gasped, writhing between them as Jisung's pace grew brutal. "Too much! I can't! Stop!"

Jisung's laugh was dark honey against your skin. "Yes, you can. One more for us, pretty thing. Show our kitty how good we make you feel."

His fingers found your clit again while Minho latched onto your breast. The dual sensation of his tongue laving over your nipple and Jisung's cock dragging against your g-spot had you almost screaming.

Minho's teeth grazed your nipple as he moaned around the sensitive flesh, his own oversensitivity evident in the way his thighs trembled. You could feel his knot pulsing inside you with each thrust of Jisung's hips, stretching you impossibly wider.

"That's it," Jisung growled, his rhythm growing erratic as his own knot began to swell. "Take it all, every fucking drop."

As pleasure verged on pain, your second orgasm struck like lightning, causing tears to fall down your cheeks. Jisung followed with a snarl, his knot locking inside you alongside Minho's as he marked you from the inside out.

For a moment, Minho allowed himself to collapse against your chest, his forehead pressed against your sternum as his breath came in ragged gasps. The steady thrum of your heartbeat beneath his ear was a siren song, beckoning him towards dangerous waters where dreams of permanence lurked like sharks beneath still waters.

"Fuck," he whispered, the word barely audible as his fingers traced meaningless patterns across your ribs. His tongue darted out to taste the salt of your skin, cataloging the way Jisung's and his scent had mixed with your natural sweetness to create something entirely new.

Behind you, Jisung's fingers carded through Minho's sweat-dampened hair, the gentle touch at odds with the possessive grip he maintained on your hip. "Stay still for me, both of you," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder. "Let me take care of you while we're tied."

Minho's eyelashes fluttered against your skin as he fought back the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to memorize this moment—the weight of you both, the way Jisung's fingers felt against his scalp, the lingering taste of whiskey and blood on his tongue. Wanted to bottle it up and keep it safe, hidden away with all the other pieces of himself he couldn't bear to examine too closely.

But he couldn't. Wouldn't. The rules were clear—no staying, no claiming, no letting himself believe this could be anything more than what it was. Even as his body betrayed him, cock still pulsing inside you as his knot kept you locked together, his mind was already calculating the fastest way to get you out of his house. Already planning his escape.

"Your heart's racing," you observed softly, fingers trailing down his spine in a touch so gentle it made him want to scream. Or sob. Or both.

Minho said nothing, but his fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise.

It was like a game of Kemps, Minho thought hazily, watching the way moonlight painted silver stripes across your skin through his half-closed Venetian blinds. Just like those drunken Sunday afternoons in Chan's apartment. But now he had two jacks in his hand. Two cards that could ruin everything he'd built, destroy the fortress around his heart.

He could already imagine it—lazy Sunday mornings with the scent of condensed milk pudding filling his apartment, the sweet aroma mingling with fresh coffee and Jisung's scent. Jisung's steady hands marking his skin with permanent promises in black ink while vinyl records crackled in the background. You in the bathtub singing "Here Comes The Sun" off-key, bubbles clinging to your shoulders while Jisung lounged behind you reading his worn copy of Murakami, occasionally glancing up from the pages to watch him shave. Movie nights with takeout containers scattered across his coffee table, your head in his lap and Jisung's fingers absently playing with both your hair. The three of you tangled together in his Egyptian cotton sheets, no need for rushed goodbyes or careful distance, just the steady rhythm of shared breaths and intertwined heartbeats.

The domesticity of these visions felt like a noose around his neck, tightening with each passing second. Like his mother's pearls scattered across the bathroom floor, like the bitter taste of failure that had lived on his tongue since that day. The thought terrified him more than any business deal or angry investor ever could.

"When will I see you again?"

For the first time, he was the one that asked this question. His fingers trembled as he considered keeping his jacks instead of discarding them, letting them destroy his perfect game.

After all, sometimes the best strategy was letting your walls crumble, brick by carefully constructed brick, until nothing remained but the raw, beating heart beneath.

Kemps!

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Arguments:

Yue Qingyuan: he's sect leader so he has enough authority and respect for the junior disciples not to giggle too much to his face. Uses very elegant and veiled language, lots of euphemisms. Qi Qingqi heard him refer to vaginas as "flowers" once and she nearly qi deviated. He keeps it brief and vague and doesn't take more than two questions which he usually redirects to Mu Qingfang because he's a doctor and not because Yue Qingyuan is too flustered. He focuses a lot on being respectful and gentle, as well as ready to take responsibility if accidents happen. There's a rumor in CQM for a week that YQY is boringly vanilla in bed if his flowery lesson is anything to go by (it isnt).

Qi Qingqi: very thorough, with a focus on why it's important to be safe, sane and consensual. She teaches a very detailed class on women's health and bodies and everybody has to attend and take notes. There will be a test at the end. No, it doesnt matter if youre gay or ace. You take the test. Extra lesson on sexual harrassment because she has seen the way men ogle her female disciples and she made it a point to remind everyone that her peak disciples are taught a secret technique to emergency castrate men if so needed (nobody knows if this is actually true but nobody wants to find out).

Shang Qinghua: goes into way too much detail. It somehow feels like an engineering lesson, he is very focused on the logistics of things and what goes where. Use lube and don't beat your partner up unless it's been negotiated before are his main lessons and everyone can tell it's from personal experience. He's very open to talk about kinks and fetishes, though. Recommends buying his own bad smut as guide for sex. Sales dont skyrocket, go figure. His disciples are pretty sure that their peak lord isnt having sex the right way.

Liu Qingge: "if you have sex you will die." is how he starts the lesson. He lists out all the possible bad consequences of sex, from UTIs and pregnancies, to deadly STDs and qi deviation. He doesn't believe in dual cultivation, if you want to improve your core you have to train like a normal person. The lesson is mostly about how to defend oneself in case of a non-consensual situation. The whole CQM decides nobody fucks on Bai Zhan peak because they are too scared of Liu Qingge.

Shen Qingqiu (as Shen Yuan): he is very flustered about it, with his thin face and all, so he mostly focuses on the emotional side of it, how it should be with someone trustworthy and enthusiastically consensual. He also drops the more uncomfortable questions on to Mu Qingfang. If you mention the Song of Bingqiu to him, you receive 57 laps around the mountain precisely. Makes it a point to say that, if accidents do happen, he is open to help out with any unexpected children. His disciples are even more flushed than he is because he didnt turn off the wife beam.

Shen Qingqiu (as Shen Jiu): no. He wont do it. They can read about it in books or ask Mu Qingfang or whatever other alternative, Shen Jiu isn't teaching them anything about that. He isnt doing this full stop. Its bad enough people look down on him for visiting brothels, like hell will he talk about it to a bunch of horny teenagers. They'll figure it out eventually. He drops something like "make sure you dont force anyone into it including yourself" and doesnt elaborate.

Mu Qingfang: everyone just expects him to do it so he's the CQM's Aunt Flo whether he likes it or not. He's the most normal about it, explaining everything in medical terms and presenting possible negative comsequences rationally, without fearmongering. The only one open to answering all questions, no matter how wild. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe also sneakily attend the lesson for...additional information. He is very calm and relaxed about it. Everyone thinks Mu Qingfang gets mad hole in his free time because he knows everything about everything.

[usernameforaboredcat]

Favorite Pretty Boys (Ace X F!Reader X Yamato)

Poly!Ace & Poly!Yamato In Modern!AU <3

Warnings: People stunking, incel behaviour, slight homophobia and transphobia, don't worry wholesome ending

Just a simple, cute, wholesome day out with your two sweet loving boyfriends.

"Damn it!". Soft noise of music plays in the room with scurrying, a young woman running around her room looking for something cute to wear. She's already done her hair and makeup, just needing an outfit. A loud honk makes her jump, running over the window to see Aces truck. The back window opens, Yamato climbing out with his fists in the air. "(Y/N)! WE'RE HERE!". He calls. "Ah shit". She mutters. She runs to her closet, grabbing a random dress with matching shoes and quickly slipping them on. Grabbing her purse with her phone, keys and wallet in it, rushing out her house.

She locks the door behind herself, walking to the car. "(YYY/NNN)!". Yamato cheers happily. Ace turns to look out the window with his arm hanging out. He wolf whistles when he sees (Y/n), smirking. "Hey there hot stuff! You single?". He asks in a joking manner. "Sorry handsome, I have a boyfriend! Two actually". She jokes back, walking over to the other side and climbing into the car. "Hey (Y/n)! Look how pretty you look today!". Yamato compliments, leaning from the back seat into the front and hugging her. "Aw, thank you Yamato! You two don't look too bad yourselves". She tells the two, pecking the very tall males cheek.

(Y/n) then looks to Ace. "So, where're we going today?". She asks him. "Yeah! You haven't told me either!". Yamato adds. "Well I thought we'd go to the mall, go to the arcade, and for lunch we go to this new restaurant that opened up and I just so happen to know someone who works there". Ace explains with a cocky smirk on his face. "Really!?". Yamato asks him. "Yep". He simply answers. "That's so sweet!". "Thank you Ace!". He gets jumped by his boyfriend and girlfriend, getting smothered with kisses. "Okay okay! I love you two too, but we should head off". He tells the two. "Okay!". (Y/n) and Yamato agree, sitting properly in their respective seats.

~

All the three can hear is the bustling noise of the mall, filled with the sounds of people talking, stores playing music, and shoes hitting the ground. The three walk hand in hand, Ace being sandwiched in the middle of his short girlfriend and his tall boyfriend. As the three walk, Yamato couldn't help but notice the whispers coming from people looking at them. His glare causes a few people to shut up, only a few. He looked over to look at Ace and (Y/n), seeing the two talking happily to each other as (Y/n) has her arms wrapped around and body pressed against his body. He decided to just ignore the on lookers and to just enjoy his time with the two shorties he loves.

~

"Come on come on!". Ace grumbles, moving the leaver and pressing the button. The claw goes down, grabbing a plush of a capybara and raises it up. Before the three can cheer, the claw drops the toy. "Aw man! Fuck off!". Ace snaps, kicking the machine. "Hey its fine, really". (Y/n) reassures him, stroking his arm. "Here! Let me try". Yamato slots in a coin, giving the machine a go. The two boyfriends felt the undying need to get the toy for their girlfriend, especially since she gushed over it as soon as she laid eyes on them. "Pfft, like you'll get it. Those stupid things are rigged as he-". "Yeah baby!". Yamato cheers, causing Ace to shut up.

He looks to see (Y/n) bend over and pull the capybara plush out the machine, holding it up like a monkey holding up a baby lion with the biggest grin and stars in her eyes. "Thank you Yamato! It's so cute! You're the best boyfriend!". She says happily, standing on her tippy toes and pecking him on the cheek. Yamato puffs his chest out and flexes his arms up. "Best boyfriend!". Yamato cheers happily. Ace chuckles as he looks at the two, loving how cute they look right now. His smile drops when he sees two guys pointing and laughing at the two, not even trying to hide their bullying.

He's a guy, he knows the types of guys who'd be way too open about their thoughts and opinions in public. Especially with Yamato identifying as male but from afar it looks like a lesbian relationship. He expected as much when getting into a relationship with the two. He just stares at the guys, the two limp noodles shutting up and walking away. He also expected that, if they where the type of guys he thought with being an incel or homophobic/transphobic than they'd just skedaddle away when getting eye scolded by a tall hot buff dude. He just turns to look back at his girlfriend and boyfriend, mustering up a smile.

~

As the day starts to end, the three walk into a new restaurant. Ace smiles as he walks faster into the room, a blonde walking up to him with a smile and the two happily shake hands. "Sanji! How you doing my man!?". He greets the blonde happily. "I'm good I'm good! And uh, who are those two beauties with you?". Sanji asks with a smirk, looking at the "two women" who are holding hands and chatting. "Them? The cute shortie is my girlfriend (Y/n), tall and hot is my boyfriend Yamato". Ace answers. Sanji makes an 'o' face, nodding. "Lucky man lucky man". He chuckles. "Your table is table 7, take a seat and you'll be served shortly". Sanji then tells him, remembering that he's at work and he can't just stand around and chat with his friend. Well friends friend but what ever.

"Babe! Sweetheart! Come on, I got us a table". Ace tells the two, turning to look at them. They two smile happily at each other, them walking over to join the other boyfriend. The three walk over to the table that the waiter assigned them, taking a seat at the circled table. (Y/n) notices a slight uneased feeling from the other two, she speaks up. "Are you two okay? Did something happen before you two picked me up?". She asked. Yamato and Ace turn to each other, seeing each others matching concerned face. "You noticed too?". Ace asks him. "Hmh, yeah". Yamato confirms. "Notice what? Oh God am I pregnant!? Is Yamato pregnant!? IS ACE PREGNANT!?". She asks in shock. "I'm not pregnant you idiot! No one is pregnant!". Ace snaps at her. "It's just...we both seem to noticed whispers and looks from people because of...well...". "Us". Yamato finishes.

(Y/n) frowns a brow at their words. "Whispers and looks?". She asks. "People pointing and saying stuff about us". Yamato answers. "Dickheads saying stuff about you two". Ace adds his own answer. (Y/n) lets out a chuckle, raising her eyebrow. "And?". She asks. "Who cares?". She asks. "Y-You don't care?". Yamato asks. "You're the most emotional person out of the three of us and you don't care?". Ace asks. "So what if I am? Yes I'm an emotional person but my emotions care more about you two, and being happy with you two". (Y/n) explains. "You two are my pretty boys, as long as we're all happy than who cares? Who cares if we get judged, we're adults and can make our own choices about our love life and sex life. I love you both, and that's all I care about". She adds. The two boyfriends look at each other, than laugh happily to each other. "What did we expect?". Ace asks him. "Yeah, we should have expected something like that from her". Yamato adds.

(Y/n) pouts, crossing her arms. "Well sorry for being honest with my feelings and thinking that it would help you two feel less upset about getting judged". She groans, rolling her eyes. "Hey hey hey, we love you two (Y/n) and we appreciate you doing that". Ace explains. "Just thought ya might cry". Yamato adds. "What? Oh shut up no I wouldn't". (Y/n) snaps. "Munchkins, you cried the other day because of a video of pufferfish". Yamato reminds her. "They looked so stupid and goofy I love them!". (Y/n) snaps back, a little whimper in her voice from remembering the video. "Whatever, we're out right now. Let's just enjoy our date and have a good time". She tells them. "Yeah you're right, especially since Sanjis cooking is by far fantastic". Ace tells them two. "I sure hope so! I'm staaaaaarving!". Yamato whines. "I'm actually quite thirsty, I think we should order now". (Y/n) suggests, the two nodding.

What a fun day with the boyfriends.

[blacklegsanjiii]

I keep thinking about a Roger who got his illness cured and raising Ace with Rouge and being retired after faking his death. Ace who is suddenly two years older than normal as they settle in Foosha in the East Blue with some mountain bandits nearby. They're out sailing when they stumble upon the Germa fleet and Sanji escaping to the orbit when Rouge goes and gets him before he makes it to the Orbit and gets back to the small ship they sail and twelve year old Ace is looking at the kid as Roger, who had babies on his ships, frowns at the shape the kid is in.

So they go back to Foosha and get Sanji situated and Ace really doesn't like the new kid taking up his parents time. He's acting like a toddler when a new baby comes home basically. Ace is pissed despite the kid having a lot of scars and Ace spends a lot of time in the jungle. So he spends even more time there. He eventually meets Luffy and Sabo and decides to go tell his parents he's living in the jungle since they have a new kid and he found brothers he actually likes.

Roger and Rouge know how hard it can be going from an only child situation to suddenly having a sibling but like, fuck Ace, look at the kid who is hiding? Also where did you find more more kids? Can we meet them? It's fine if you want to live in the jungle with them, but you all can also live here? It's fine?

Sanji feels bad and avoids Ace who is still absolutely a mama's boy so he spends most of his time with Roger. Ace brings home Sabo and Luffy to meet them but Sanji just stays in the other room. Turns out they're spending the night so Sanji climbs to the roof to sleep, it's nice to sleep outside in Foosha. Roger climbs up and sits with him and explains that sometimes forcing a situation doesn't work; a lesson he's learned the hard way. Roger pets Sanji's hair and holds him and apologizes for not knowing what to do but he knows in time Ace will come around. Sanji shrugs and says it's okay, he's used to not being wanted.

Roger feels his heart breaking because he knows the ways he's failed Shanks and Buggy. Knows how he fucked them up and nothing he'll do will ever fix it. Sanji who is small and has a permanent red ring around his neck that he and Rouge put lotion on every day. Sanji who is smaller than he should be and quieter and so well behaved unlike the noble boy Ace brought home. Not that Roger has room to judge because the kid spoke viciously about the government and nobles so it made sense and Luffy only talked about Shanks with them.

Garp shows up when Ace is out with Sabo and Luffy. Sanji is looking at the marine as Roger holds him and Rouge laughs and talks smack about Roger with Garp(we all know Rouge was above him okay? They know it too) and introduces him to Sanji. Garp asks them to keep an eye on Luffy and raise him for him and Dragon, which they agree to easily after everything he has done for them. Garp asks Sanji what he wants to be when he grows up and Sanji says a chef on the All Blue. Garp nods and says the Marines would be a good way to get there and Roger kicks the man out of his house and says to stop spreading propaganda. ASL, who happen to be walking up, cheer until Luffy realizes it's his grandpa and gets a fist of love which makes Rouge chase him with her staff.

Rouge tells ASL when she's done and after Garp leaves. She explains what he asked and how they won't stop them but they are there for them if they need them. Luffy asks if they really can stay there longer and Rouge is like 'Of course, the more the merrier!' and it's like a light bulb for Ace when his mom says that because she wanted more kids, Ace remembers wanting siblings when he was younger but nothing ever came of it.

Until Sanji came along. Sanji who was thin and wiry like Luffy. So Ace tries to do better by Sanji after that. Luffy and Sabo don't get it but they go along with it and grow to accept Sanji as another brother. Sanji becomes more open and free with them and of course the three of them fight over Sanji being their cook. Roger and Rouge laugh at the antics until the terminal fires and they lose Sabo. They comfort their children and they heal in time.

Ace still sets off at seventeen and then Sanji and Luffy set off together later. Everything is the same still. Like Rouge and Roger and them keep up with the papers and they know Ace is in the White Beard fleet and they've seen poor Sanji's poster. But then Ace disappears from the news and there was a buster call on Enies Lobby so now the former King and Queen of the Pirates are setting sail as fast as they can to go see what's going on when news of Ace's execution comes out so they head there and then Roger says while they're there they should get Buggy out of Impel Down so he can meet the others. Rouge screams and asks why he didn't mention Buggy was in Impel Down and Roger yells he absolutely did and said Garp did it.

They barely make it in time to Marineford to help save their son-is that Luffy? Rouge is screaming at the top men of the marines as Ace stares at them and Roger is yelling at Luffy and Buggy. Buggy is gaping at them as Luffy runs forward yelling 'mom' and 'dad' and makes the Impel Down escape team shake their heads before running into the fight. Once it's over, Ace and Luffy both taking life threatening punches and being shipped off and most of the battle field passed out from the sheer amount of haki Roger has let out and Shanks shows up and is there to end the war and pick up Buggy.

Rouge is dragging Roger by the ear after explaining everything to his brats and apologizing but says they need to find Luffy's crew and their other son and Shanks and Buggy keep asking how many kids they have and Roger says counting Shanks and Buggy he has six, one's dead though.

Also Roger and Rouge sending the crew off at Sabaody and Roger casually asking how it was training Luffy and if he checked in on Shanks and Buggy after everything. Rayleigh keeps trying to avoid the second question but Luffy went with Boa six months before. Rouge, terrifying Rouge who is glaring at Rayleigh demanding to know why he never checked in with them when that was Roger's technically last request to him and why would he let Luffy go with Boa. Rayleigh is pale. So fucking pale he looks like he's about to pass out as he stutters about Roger not being dead and lying. Roger gives him the most unimpressed look because that still doesn't cover not checking in on their brats and the punch he gets is well deserved.

[hazelfoureyes]

Sending in anon because I'm a coward... 😩

I'm a new reader, and I just have to say-- your "a doe in fall" series is just... AMAZING!!

I could go on, and on and on about how much I love it. But what gets me the most is always Alastor's dialogue, because as someone who is also on the aro/ace spectrum, I just get it so much. Especially the subtle hoping that reader can like... Read his mind about how he feels for her, and the weird sort of stockholm syndrome we sometimes develop with ourselves after being alone with only our own company for so long, and it really is, lol, like you just get so used to being alone for so long because you know the idea people have of you, you can't truly live up to, so you don't want to "disappoint" them that you actually aren't like they are, so you just sorta... Keep them occupied at arms length-- Therefore you're forced to adapt to your company being the only love you have for a long time. it's like an obligation.

And when or if the special somebody who understands you comes along, you realize... "Wow, I've been living like this for so long, is this what it feels like to be loved and appreciated, in spite of my oddities, or maybe even in favor of them? Strange..."

Emphasis on the "strange" part because, when you're so deeply entrenched in your own soul, sharing your space for another almost feels more like learning how to swim rather than an instant "click", sparks, fireworks and whatnot. The excitement of the magical "other" has been long since drowned and snuffed out of you.

So, when this somebody who is similar to you, or just simply understands, doesn't try to change you or ignore you, but instead envelopes you and adores you, the appreciation is deep and overflowing. But there's a part of you always pinching your heart, a sort of awareness of something that isn't the case, wondering "Is this a dream? what if it is and I'll wake up and this is not at all what I was thinking?".

Haha... ANYWAY, sorry for the slightly morose and LONG read 😂 But I always think of how similar I am to how you write alastor and it's scary in a way, but comforting (especially since he's my first and biggest fictional crush) except in this case my profession would actually be burlesque. Especially since I work in the exotic dance world. It's fascinating being aro/ace in the SW world, I could go on forever- But yeah, I absolutely love your writing!! Makes me feel less alone in this world. Annnd surprisingly I always feel so sensual after reading, I love love love it!! Reading before work always gets me in the mood to dance and pretend I'm Y/N, lol!!

Much blessings ❤️❤️

*cracks knuckles* listen here babycakes, I eat this shit UP. Exploring Human Ace Alastor is my BREAD AND BUTTER. I go into ESSAYS in the AO3 comments in this 😂

you really understand, which makes me so happy and is confirmation I’m conveying him the way I want to.

Now I’m gonna ramble and echo you basically 😂

I really think Alastor (atleast in this story) feels that excitement and strangeness of how open he can be around Autumn (since she doesn’t have a proper name cuz she’s reader 😂). He’s a fish out of water despite the fact he’s actually being his most authentic self. Like you said, it’s new to him just to be … Alastor. To be honest and upfront. His normal operating mode has been so restricted for so long he’s struggling with how to be himself. And then that fear—- well what if I’m too much? What if I ruin this, when I finally have something worth keeping? He’s never gotten this far and the fear of losing that comfort is terrifying but so is the actual comfort itself. It’s new and foreign.

A deep uneasiness that’s if he fully embraces this he’s gonna just fuck it up and it’ll be his fault this time. Not a misunderstanding or misalignment of needs but a confirmation he wasn’t good enough anyway.

“it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all” he would say that’s bullshit

and because of the situations he’s been in before, he’s never gotten to actually explore physical intimacy in a “safe” environment. He was always going into interactions because he had to if he wanted to keep people around. It was a necessity, not something he actually sincerely wanted to participate. So he tried to keep them happy with other means of affection and intimacy to maintain some safe distance but eventually, always, things would fall apart. At a distance or up close.

that’s why that most recent part was called Learning. Alastor is trying new things to learn more about what he’s okay with or doesn’t care for even offering in the future. Autumn is learning (that night, tho she doesn’t understand it yet) that he’s still figuring out how to meet her halfway (even tho she’s not even asking for that) when he’s used to being forced to meet people where they are. And Detective Brady, of course, is learning he may have found motive for Tommy’s disappearance.

I’m really glad you’re enjoying his portrayal and that you’re resonating with parts of him! That makes my soul hum! 💖 your line of work mixed with your Aro/Ace-ness sounds like such an interesting conversation if we’re honest! That’s a small aspect I love about Autumn. She’s in this field that’s (wrongly) considered to be hyper sexual and full of air headed wanton whores, but she’s the first person to be like “oh! You aren't into this stuff. Let me adjust my expectations. I’ll ask for clear verbal consent, not initiate, and I’m totally okay with never fucking again if it’s for your love and company.”

I work in the SW industry in a sense (Personal Assistant) and one of my biggest pet peeves is all of the shit people project on SWers.

sorry for the essay I could talk about this for ETERNITY

omg and THANK YOU! 🥺💖💖💖💖

Referencing:

A Doe in Fall (Human Alastor x Burlesquer Fem Reader)

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦

[itsyagurlchip]

Hihi! ^w^ saw your requests were open annnd i was wondering if you could do a husk x reader [romantic + established relationship] where reader is his lucky charm. Like he just has such good luck when they’re around him (especially when he’s gambling). Just make it super cute n fluffy :3

☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The Best Gamble Love Can Give☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings: super fluff attack(!) cussing(!) gambling/alcohol addiction(!) wife-coded reader(!)

ᯓᡣ𐭩Guys I swear to God if y'all don't correct my grammar imma find y'all houses and eat your waffle fries/j. This one is super cute anon! Thank you for requesting <33 I want to make some hearts explode with this one. Would you be fine if I made you Husk's spouse? (tehe)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Even if he didn't win, he still has you. And that's more than luck could ever grant.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 !!For those who don't play, Speed is a game where you have 20 cards to discard, and two discard piles. You have to place down each card (one by one) as fast as you can, in order, and whoever runs out of cards first wins. If there are no more cards to place, you grab from the piles on the sides to continue the game. All while keeping 5 cards in your hand at a time. While you don't need to know this in order to read the story- it will be helpful to know bc I'm not that good at explaining card games.!!

Husk kept on losing, and it was starting to piss him off. Today's redemption exercise was to practice to eliminate the need for gambling; ironically, Husk was chosen to lead the rounds of games. The current game was Speed, with Hellish versions of playing cards.

And he was losing. So. Bad.

Everyone was sitting in the main area, with the usual furniture switched out for tables and chairs. Husk growled, but kept his composure.

"Where's the serenity at, dear Husker? Getting 'chaff' now are we? I guess the cat does lose it's skill, after getting too curious of course." Alastor said, antagonizing him further. Husk banged his fist on the table, making the sinner in front of him jump a bit.

"Fuck!" He grumbles out. The first 5 were won easily, but for some reason these past 30 something games have been no luck.

At first, the goal of the exercise was to play a few games, and quit. You know, to discourage bad behavior but still have fun. But right now, even without a genuine bet, he was setting a bad example. He knows. The sinner in front of him was playing swiftly and skillfully. His wing twitched and he grimaced as his mind stuttered.

But he just had to win. He has to keep going.

Charlie was getting concerned, but he waved her off. Everyone else was finished with their rounds of games, it was time for a new activity. But Husk wasn't gonna allow himself to lose like this.

Not to a damned practice game.

Then you walked next to him. One by one, he rapidly placed down cards in order. His partner did as well, speed was the game afterall. His ear twitched as your heels softly clacked against the floor.

"Hey Husk, baby. You doin' any good?" You said, your voice dripping like honey over his ears. But then he remembered the game. You were worried, Vaggie told you he's been going on like this for hours non-stop. It's almost nighttime.

"Yea, don' worry. Imma win this game in just a minute." He responded, gruffly as he missed the chance to place his ace. He put down a 4 over the five in the second discard pile then. 2 cards left in his deck, but none that followed the order of the discard pile. Fuck.

His partner had 1 card left, probably a king considering the cards that were already placed down.

You kissed his fluffy forehead, relishing in the near silent purr he let out.

"Alright sweetheart, finish up the game so everyone can go to sleep." You fidgeted with his ears in your hands for a bit, before letting go and sitting at the bar.

Watching from afar, you saw that he won. But he wanted to play again. This time though, you didn't allow it. Vaggie saw that you had it handled, so she went up to the elevator. Probably to her room with Charlie, you guessed.

You stood up, walking towards him again with a glass of whiskey, swished with chocolate hints. You placed it in front of him while he was shuffling the cards, not before taking a sip.

The affectionate way it is then.

"Hey, you." You said, slowly rubbing up and down on his fur. You could feel it bristle in shivers before relaxing. Your chin rested on top of his head, lifting a bit to see what he was doing.

"Hey? You just talked to me a few minutes ago." He began to set the cards up, so you pluck them up and stacked them away into a withered box. His wing flapped in annoyance.

"I know," you chuckled. "I just knew you wouldn't last long without a drink. Nothin' too sweet of course." You finished, pushing the drink towards him.

While you couldn't eliminate his addictions, you could switch them for others in small amounts, enough to distract him to bed. You can't fix him, he can only help himself when he chooses to. You both know that.

"You know me too well, Sugarpie." Husk smiled, before talking a gulp of the glass you gave him. Half of it was gone. "No cherry?"

You laughed a bit, placing the box in your pocket to put away later. No one was in the room, no one you could see anyway.

"Naw." You rested your chin back down on his head, wrapping your arms around him neck a bit. "You would just swing it away. No appreciation for its flavor-" You scoffed amusedly at the thought.

He was now distracted away from the cards and now on you, good. You could hear Alastor snicker before walking away.

"Ready to go to bed?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩

In the dark room, you slept. Husk didn't.

He was wide awake, in a way that still made him feel tired, but not sleep. On his back, he looked up at the ceiling in mindless thought.

Husk didn't mind though, as long as it didn't affect your sleep. He looked at you. Your breaths were soft, and slow. His eyes dilated, though one could never really prove it.

Grabbing onto your waist, he cuddles into your side just a bit more, and relaxes with a deep sigh.

You, in your half asleep state, reach for him. In which you succeed, running your fingers through the tuffs of his ears in an unknown rhythm. Husk purred freely now, he loved it when this happened.

How lucky was he, of all people in this shitty hell, to still have his wife in the afterlife? Sure, you may not have done great things, but he was afraid that the two of you would forever be separated by heaven.

How lucky was he, in all of his shitty problems and mental shit, to be able to still have you around? To have you want him around?

That thought had brought a soft smile to his face. In all of his gambles, this was the best one he's ever made.

I think I remember who asked this, but then again I'm answering this one late. soooo, if I tag you incorrectly I'm so sorry (@kltira )

I think imma call this place the "debriefing space" bc I always wanna ramble, but I'm never sure where. Also, so people won't have to read this before the oneshot/fic. Nothing here will be specific, maybe things I'm thinking while writing, or things that I sorta wanna discuss.

Rather than being a lucky charm, I was thinking reader to be more of a saving grace for Husk. Which he already finds lucky enough. While you are motivation to win, it doesn't always secure his place for it.

I know this trope is kinds overused, but you and Husk were married during life (yippee!!). You guys are just two old people who want to spend time with each other lmao. I sorta headcannon that when he starts to get too into his addiction, you kind of save him (BUT NOT FROM ALASTOR LMAO/hj) and that was one of the reasons why he married you. Not only to keep himself in control, but to see you guys thrive together <33

you are quite literally his only silence from this hellhole.

{Can we just talk about how when Angel Dust nonconsensually touches Husk ppl call it "cute" and "aww", but when Valentino nonconsensually touches Angel it's now bad? likkke. we love the show but we gotta get some new writers for season 2 and fans who don't mischaracterize everything they see.

I'm now only really starting to think about this- and the double standard is starting to be more noticeable to me. Like when Sir Pentious was saying "no" but those demons still dragged him into the sex room. But that scene was used for entertainment rather than "Hey this is a serious moment" like Valentino was.

I'm all for HuskerDust, but you gotta realize when a character does something bad and does nothing to redeem from it, no matter if they're a part of the main cast or not. (isn't that what the show is supposed to be about- redemption? y'all do understand how destructive this behavior is and how it can easily make HuskerDust toxic right?). }

we need the option for another 'keep reading' thingy bc I talk too much. ignore my yapping.

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა tags: @kittykittyanon @bonefanatic @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა@ziipzeepzop-eez @wheezdostuff @spongejuice @cyb3r-st4r @matteo-hamato

@clown-froggi

if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

[toulouse21]

Spoiler of heartstopper: season 3, ep 8

I loved the new season, ok, I really did. All of it is so extremely important and meaningful, I love it, BUT-

I can't put in words how much I got upset because tori's asexuality was not approached.

This scene on the show wasn't totally like it was in the book, and I know movie adaptations from books (even if it's a graphic novel) are never the same as the original product, but her speech in THIS scene it's so important to her characther, I really thought they would include it all in this ep. But they didn't.

Don't get me wrong, the scene is still good. It's amazing that heartstopper portray how Charlie's ed affected him AND everyone around him, everybody who loves him. It's extremely important that Charlie says that to Tori, she can't spend all her time worrying about him, that's an amazing lesson and Im really glad he said that.

But I still think they lost a giant opportunity of exploring even more the complexity of Tori's characther only by including this tiny speech of her.

And now talking about the representation. Im about 90% sure Im a teenager asexual, and let me tell you, I can't describe how much happy I got when Tori said those words on the paper. It was the first time I didn't feel alone.

Currently, LGBT representation on media is becoming more and more common (THANK FUCKING GOD, WE FOUGHT SO MUCH FOR THIS) AND IT'S AMAZING, but there are a lot of people who still are kind ignored by stories in general.

I can name some canon aro/ace characthers in current shows and books, but the only asexual characthers who feel romantic attraction I can name are Tori and Aled (Aled is tecnically in the asexual umbrella), and that's it.

Also, the fear Tori feels about dating Michael is so extremely realistic, you guys can't even imagine. She really likes Michael (romantically and as a friend too), she doesn't like to admit it but she knows it, apparently she wants to have a romantic relationship with him (and it would be good for her! If she allowed herself to be happy like that), but the reason she is afraid of doing it is so relatable, because I have the exact same fear.

She knows Michael it's not like her, she thinks he will want things she can't provide. Like she said, at first he would say he is okay with that, but eventually he would get tired, tired of her.

We know that's obviously not true, but Tori really believes in it. Because it's Tori, she assumes nobody is able to love her and care for her, she doesn't get it very well. She doesn't think Michael is able to make this "sacrifice" only to be with her, she thinks she is not all that and he would give up at some point.

So, because her head is fucked up, she hurts herself before anybody can hurt her first. That really makes her so human, and so relatable to me. She is the only person who is just like me on this subject, she is without a doubt the best representation I have.

I really, really hope they include this part of Tori on the next season, really. Romantic asexual people need more space (please, let our icon Tori Spring come out on tv, we need her, we're desperate)

[rekino2114]

Hello. I just foind you and i love the way you write

Could you write for a Arei x reader, but reader follows Arei to the playground out of paranoia?

(Since this is my first request i won’t give too many details, maybe i get more confident and ask for more detailed things another day.)

You are doing good work the despair time x reader community

Saving arei nageishi

[Spoilers for drdt]

A/n:Thanks, I'm glad you like my stuff and hope you keep requesting and enjoying it, I love drdt and I'm glad you like what I write for it

Being in the killing game felt like a nightmare. You still couldn't believe the fact that you were being forced to kill each other, but then the first trial happened an the gravity of this game truly hit you.

Seeing min in such despair made you realize how horrible this situation truly was, you couldn't even look at her execution, you were so scared, so scared that that could happen to you but especially that it could happen to arei

You loved arei with all of your heart and the thought of anything happening to her made you feel so bad, you would have been so empty and alone without her so you decided to dedicate everything to protecting her, you even started sleeping and staying in the same dorm most of the time, you wanted nothing more than to make her stay alive.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, to meet eden"

"Hm? Why?"

"She wrote this to me"

She handed you a note telling her to meet in the playground

"She probably wants to talk, we....kinda became friends actually"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, Arturo was threatening her so I came and saved her ass and now we're besties"

"Wow.......I'm really proud of you....for making your first friend"

"You make it sound like I'm six when you put it like that, also don't you count?"

"......I guess, I thought we were more than that thought"

"We are, being also friends is just part of the package"

You giggled and continued looking at the note a bad feeling growing in your chest

"Sooooo I'm gonna go n-"

"Can I come with you?"

"Hm? Why?"

"I.......I don't want you to go alone, we're still in a killing game, remember what happened to teruko?"

She sighed, her gazing moving around before focusing back on you

"......I don't know, what if it's something private"

"Then I'll leave, I just need to make sure it's actually eden you're meeting, I need to know you're safe"

".......fine, I wouldn't want you to die either"

"Thank you"

You gave the note back to arei, and you two exited her dorm, but before you could fully leave, you felt arei's gloved hand wrap around yours. When you looked back at her, you found her smiling brightly at you

"......I'm glad that you care so much about me"

"It's literally the least I could do"

"Yeah, but still, it's nice"

You smiled back at her as you made your way outside

When you arrived at the playground, everything was quiet and no one was there. You were about to turn to arei to tell her to go back, but when you did, you saw an arm wrap around her neck and starting to strangle her

You immediately jumped at her, making her fall and saving her in the meantime, arei took this moment to catch her breath while you looked up at who was strangling her and saw ace

"WHAT THE FUCK!? DID YOU WANT TO KILL HER!?"

"I.......i"

"Answer you fucking bastard!? Were you seriously gonna kill me?"

"..............."

"I said answe-"

"FUCK YOU! BOTH OF YOU!"

"..........."

"You have no idea what it's like, I'm gonna die, and I'm so scared, I.......I had to-"

He was interrupted by arei slapping him

"Are you a fucking moron? Do you think we all don't feel scared about this, that you're the only one who doesn't want to die, well news flash no one fucking does! Especially me, and you were just gonna kill me because of that!? Fuck off you should have died when nico tried to kill you"

Ace stood frozen for a while before scoffing and going away dejectedly. After what she said, arei looked at the ground and started breathing again. You bent down and pat her back

"......I'm here if there's-"

"Thank you"

"............."

"Thank you....so fucking much"

You saw some tears starting to hit the playground floor

"You saved my life.......i-i don't know what to say"

"It's nothing. What was I supposed to do, watch the person I love die?"

Arei wiped her tears and looked at you, your words echoing in her heart

"I think you're the first person I met that would have saved me"

"Eh?"

"If anyone else i met was here......they would have probably watched me die and said I deserved it"

You stayed silent and hugged your girlfriend, her arms wrapping around you

".....it's because I love you"

"......yeah, I know and......I love you too...thank you again....thank you so so much"

[lacrimosathedark]

I need to know what the fuck is wrong with Radioapple Haters.

I don't mean the people who just don't like the ship, I presume most of them are fine. I mean Haters.

I mean the people who hate it vehemently enough that they attack the creator for advertising duo art.

Apparently (correction: a member of the social media team on Viv's account) posted the new signed Alastor and Lucifer poster on Youtube, and people threw a goddamn fit, enough that that post is now down. I've seen screenshots, but the page itself is gone. It has since been replaced clearly without the ship name.

Like, seriously? All that because you hate a ship? Because they called out the Radioapple fans for art of the pair just in a poster together? The image isn't even ship art, Lucifer is glaring daggers at Alastor, as per usual.

Viv grew in fandom spaces. Alastor is literally an edgy Deviantart OC. She just released a Helluva Boss minisode with the cringiest weeb fan swooning over Blitz when he kills her FOR SHIPPING SOMETHING.

Radioapple is popular, EVERYONE knows this, it's only expected they would capitalize on it, even if just as a joke. (they do so regularly on tiktok)

The whole duo image (correct me if I'm wrong) was AMIR TALAI'S IDEA. Alastor's voice actor is REGULARLY joking around with Radioapple shippers. It's practically his hobby at this point.

Like, this was literally him the other day.

Like??? Calm yourselves.

And as for Viv herself, she has Liked a lot of ship art, including Radioapple.

The creator doesn't mind it, one of the actors finds it hilarious, and the other actor to my knowledge hasn't spoken on the ship but DID sign those posters, WHICH IS ALL THAT POST WAS ABOUT ANYWAY. A poster of two well-loved characters signed by their well-loved voice actors.

Look, 98% chance that Radioapple isn't going to happen, if only to make Alastor's sexuality and the ace rep ABUNDANTLY clear. But if Viv did decide to go that route? Okay? It's her show, not yours? Fuck off???

If you want to consider this duo art Radioapple, then there were ALSO Radiodust and Charlastor posters in the same vein and I didn't see people flipping shit about that despite, yknow, Chaggie and Huskerdust.

The canon of a series you otherwise enjoy can and will disappoint you. As a former of the Supernatural fandom, I am deeply aware of this. When Castiel went season after season with queerbaiting, when they killed off the beloved badass lesbian character Charlie, when Sam had a cool deaf hunter gf who disappeared and never came back, you know what the fandom did?

They made fanfiction about it. And let me tell you, some of it is much better than the series.

You could do that. Or, fuck, maybe someone else already has and you can go read that instead.

You don't like the way the series is going? That's fine. It's no longer for you. Stop watching. Make your own versions of them. But don't go off attacking people for enjoying the idea of Lucifer and Alastor being in close proximity.

The creative team, creator, actors, and artists/animators, is Radioapple friendly. If you can't handle that without throwing a tantrum, find the goddamn door.

I'm not telling you you have to like any ship. I sure as shit don't. But don't be an asshole about it.