#i had to format this here just because i wanted this to look pretty because they deserve it

[kafus]

my orre colosseum team

i spent the past month or so on-and-off breeding this team for orre colosseum in XD gale of darkness, a postgame challenge i've never played through before. the long time was mostly due to being in bagon hatching purgatory for weeks

i planned out the whole team before breeding it. orre colosseum is basically like gen 3 VGC - bring 6, pick 4 with team preview, no repeating held items, battles are in doubles format. there's not anything else quite like it in gen 3 especially because team preview wasn't the standard yet, so i was kind of in the dark when it came to teambuilding. i knew orre colosseum NPCs had preplanned teams by the devs, not randomized out of a pool of pokemon sets like the tower/frontier , which is more in line with the original stadium games, and it was usually considered a fairly difficult challenge, so i had to give it some thought

this is what i ended up with after skimming some resources for the orre colosseum format played by real players, but not checking orre colosseum teams in advance as i wanted to be surprised. the IVs here are weird since like i said, i spent like a month breeding these pokemon manually (hatched around 2000 eggs overall give or take, i wasn't counting all of them) so their IVs aren't perfect across the board.

the main two things i was keeping in mind while teambuilding were speed, protection from explosion/self-destruct, and spread moves that affect the whole field. tailwind and trick room don't exist yet and speed control options are very limited in gen 3, so base speed and training in speed is really important. additionally spread moves that affect the whole field like earthquake and explosion don't have their damage cut the same way moves that only target both opponents do in this gen, so they're extremely powerful and a team needs to both have access to these options and be able to defend from these options.

i was also hellbent on not using any legendaries (box legendaries and mythicals are banned from orre colosseum AKA restricteds, but legendaries like the kanto bird trio are allowed) and not using metagross or gengar, two of the gen 3 doubles GOATs and... idk i'm just tired of using them frankly, i feel like i have enough skill to beat NPC opponents without them, even if they're tougher. so that's why i don't have pokemon like latios on the team, etc.

i will admit that while teambuilding i completely forgot about rock resistance which is pretty relevant in gen 3 in general... i have THREE pokemon weak to rock and no resisted switch-ins. BUT all rock moves in gen 3 are physical, and i have three intimidate users, so instead of changing up the team i was already attached to after realizing this, i just decided to roll with it.

anyway with all that out of the way and the acknowledgement that this team isn't perfect, i'll explain the pokemon one by one:

first up, tangerine! she was actually the pokemon i teambuilt first and was most excited to use since i got really attached to the persian i used in my recent firered nuzlocke named after my friend zur. in fact, she stems from zur's bloodline so i let zur name her, and they picked tangerine lol. other than just wanting to use one of my current favorites though, persian actually has really nice moveset options for doubles - fake out is not common but is incredibly useful in any doubles format, and icy wind is one of the very few speed control moves in gen 3. double-edge with silk scarf rounds her off with some big damage and shadow ball lets her hit ghost types... though i'll admit protect is definitely more optimal here instead of shadow ball, i just really wanted to use shadow ball because of an ongoing inside joke with zur & co about it (look up the tag #/freakylocke on my blog and you'll find it eventually)

i've played three rounds of orre colosseum so far, so the easier ones, but tangerine has been popping off, she's very useful i'm so proud of her.

tenchi the arcanine is next, also a pokemon i was hellbent on using. during my firered nuzlocke i was really excited to use arcanine since it's a version exclusive and i almost always play leafgreen, but my growlithe died early on from a careless crit, and after that i was determined to use arcanine in the battle tower or something to make up for that disappointment. i ended up routing that desire to orre colosseum instead! the aforementioned dead growlithe was also named after a friend, my friend babs, who picked out the name tenchi.

he's pretty straightforward - overheat does massive damage and ideally he gets to use it twice for free because of the white herb. hidden power grass provides extra coverage and extremespeed lets him pick off weakened opponents. protect lets allies safely use earthquake. also my first intimidate user!

next up, firegreen! bulbasaur was my favorite starter for most of my life until sprigatito came around and venusaur is still one of my most beloved pokemon. his name was recommended to me by my friend note. i was just really captivated by the comedic nature of his name, lol.

he's the team's weather control and has access to sleep powder. synergizes nicely with tenchi who can throw out really powerful overheats in the sun, even with a stat drop. and of course solarbeam is great in the sun.

his EV spread is really specific compared to most of the other pokemon on this team - he has enough speed to outspeed uninvested base 85 speed pokemon, he has enough HP/special defense to live a modest max special attack latios psychic, and the rest i dumped into special attack. this bulk has proven incredibly useful in some battles already so i'm glad i did his EVs the way i did. the slower sleep powders is also convenient for the following guaranteed sleep turn.

now louie the gyarados (named by my friend Serena who was once again a nuzlocke encounter from my firered nuzlocke lol) is kind of a weird one. at this point i knew i was probably going to use salamence, a flying type, and i wanted a second flying type (or levitate haver) for double earthquake immunity. i had also already added arcanine and venusaur to the team, fire and grass types, and fire/water/grass is a known good type combination on a team. so i combined these traits with gyarados - having yet another intimidate user isn't half bad to have either!

i bring him to battles more situationally, ie. in the first round i brought him against lovrina's obvious full stall team because taunt just absolutely decimated hr and prevented her from doing literally anything, even with taunt's crappy 2 turn length in gen 3. he's really meant as a support pokemon - speed control with thunder wave, taunt - and he's meant to stick around as long as possible and be annoying, hence protect and brightpowder (gen 3 doesn't have a lot of hold items so i figured i might as well). but of course i have at least one damaging option and i picked earthquake for that.

i don't remember exactly how i EV'd him but i do know i calculated his HP/defense to live... some rock move... so yeah his EVs improve his match-up into rock type attacks. i dumped the rest into attack, but i may adjust later to give him some speed if necessary, dunno. haven't needed it thus far.

now here's scramble, the only pokemon i actually named myself... her name takes after the sheer amount of eggs i hatched for her, over 800. it was torture. don't ask (lighthearted)

she's the premier damage output of this team and i often lead with tangerine and her so tangerine can use fake out and allow her to get off a substitute, which keeps her safe from most status moves and an attack, and then she can set up dragon dances and absolutely go to town with hidden power flying and earthquake.

i actually ran into a battle with a ditto out of the few battles i've played so far and wound up in a situation where i had to deal with the ditto copying scramble's own singular dragon dance and posing a huge threat to the rest of my team. intimidate really came to the rescue there lol

somehow she ended up being the only non-kanto pokemon on this team. that was not intentional.

and last but not least, scoop! my friend rat recommended the name ice cream scoop, which obviously doesn't fit within the 10 character limit, but i got really attached to the "scoop" part and went with that. he's very straightforward - incredibly fast max speed coverage that hits decently hard and can clean up games from the back. the lum berry is there to prevent him from getting paralyzed or otherwise have his cleanup stopped by status, an d he has protect for ally earthquakes, explosions, etc.

and yeah that's the team. i love them. they took such a ridiculously long time to put together but totally worth it. i'm excited to get back to more orre colosseum when i get the energy

[martyrbat]

favorite things - batman: legends of the dark knight #79

[ID: The cover for the above mentioned comic. In it, Batman is framed to be in the center of a wreath as he screams in agony. Surrounding him is fire. Following it is the subtitle page where we see the story's name (Favorite Things) and the creative team that created the story. It's shown with a peek of Gotham's horizon; where snow is elegantly falling in front of towering golden skyscrapers and tall, blue buildings. It settles on the rooftops of the last layer of the city, which consists of older buildings and water towers. A single gargoyle stretches into the panel in front of them all. END ID]

entire comic with ID below cut!

We fall with the snow, bearing witness to several vertical panels of random Gothamites that are outside on this frigid night. An older man clenches his newspaper in shock. A young couple drops the toys they just bought in fright, staring at an approaching golden light. In an alleyway, we see a cat jumping to a new trash lid to get away from what disturbed its rest – a peek of the corrupt far in the background. A young child with their mother points excitedly as their mother is still turnt away.

Finally, we see the cause for such reactions – the speeding, iconically sculpted car that's swerving between traffic effortlessly: the Batmobile!

Bruce Wayne, dressed as Batman, speaks into the extended microphone that's built into the car. He asks, “How's the party, Alfred? Anyone ask why I disappeared?” Alfred Pennyworth is shown talking into a revolving phone, smiling with slight amusement as well-dressed people dance and socialize joyfully in the background. Alfred reports back, “I told them you had urgent business upstairs, Master Bruce.” Bruce asks, “blonde or brunette?” Alfred answers, “Blonde, sir – I gather ‘gentlemen’ prefer them.”

However Bruce is unable to keep his own masquerade, his facade falling instantly. He rhetorically questions, “How could this happen, Alfred? I can't believe it.” Alfred gazes at an overhead window, the glass still shattered from an earlier event. He bon mots, “I'm afraid burglary is not an uncommon problem in Gotham City, Master Bruce. Even with our security. Perhaps we should invest in a large dog with a taste for the criminal classes.” Bruce remains unamused as he presses down even more on the gas pedal. He argues, “This is no joking matter. You know what they took. And you know why I have to get it back.”

He eventually enters a club just to immediately intimidate the party-goers. Underneath the sharp eye of the pink neon lights and glistening disco ball, he threatens, “I've already been to several clubs in Gotham tonight – you may have heard the ambulances. Save yourself some grief. Hand over Eddie Mulligan.” The crowd stares on until Eddie pops out! He announces, “Hi, Bats! Lookin' for me, big guy?”

Batman quips back, “Let's step into your office, Mulligan!” while throwing him through the door for the filthy restroom. He snarls at the two men still at the urinal to leave now as Eddie pleads for them to not leave him with Batman. They leave anyways as Batman yanks Eddie into a dirty stall.

Batman holds him by the collar and his head, forcing his head to hover over a toilet that has surely broken multiple sanitation regulations. He warns, “Talk to me, Eddie! Half of Gotham’s low lives come to you to celebrate a score. I’m after a gang who specialize in robbing big houses. Fill in the blanks or you and that drug store in your jacket are down the toilet.” Eddie swears, “I don’t know nothin', man. On my mother’s life–”

Batman calls out his lie as he shoves his head into the toilet’s bowl. “Your mother died when you were four, Mulligan – try again!” He lifts Eddie’s head, who still insists that he doesn’t know anything. Deciding the waste of time isn’t worth losing the convict’s trail; the Dark Knight storms out of the restroom, leaving the now dirty man on the even dirtier floor as he still murmurs his swears that he doesn’t know who's to blame for the robberies.

Fire blazes around a black bat emblem. We pull from it, revealing the incendiary weapon set to destroy a museum. Police Captain Jim Gordon murmurs, “Madness. Fire-bombing a museum… to call attention to this.” He asks if there's any witnesses to the accompanying cop. He answers, “A woman thought she saw a couple of Joy Boys running away from the blast.”

Gordon turns from the roaring flames and questions, “Joy Boys?” The cop explains, “Weird kid gang, Captain… Crazy about the Joker. Like to show how they hate the Batman, pullin' stunts like this. Or maybe they’re just celebratin' the season. Christmas comin' an' all…” Gordon mutters, “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get any sicker. Madness.”

Snow continues to fall outside a building, glowing signs advertising an adult-only cabaret named ‘Eye Spy’ and the promise of a live stage show inside. A middle-aged blind woman is shown in a brown, thin jacket over a semi-sheer cover that's attached to her short, pink dress. She climbs into a taxi's backseat as the driver teases, “Nice flowers, Tabitha. Got a secret admirer?” She laughs at her friend and tells him, “Hahaha! Not for a long time, Arnie. These're from the Batman. Had them delivered after my show.” He recoils at the revelation! “He's real?! What's he after?” She coyly smiles and dips her nose to the bouquet of red roses. She reminds him, “I got no eyes but I got good ears, Arnie. Batman wants to know what I've heard about these organized break-ins at all the city's plush mansions.” Arnie scoffs, “Typical. Superheroes always look out for the rich g–”

The start of his unimpressed rant is interrupted by a Joy Boy slamming his hand against the window! He and the rest of the Joy Boys have a mask on of the Joker's grinning face and purple jacket with green pants to mimic the villain's suit. He demands for Arnie to get out of the car as more of the posse circle the car. Arnie flees, leaving Tabitha to the mercy of the gang! She calls for him before suddenly being jerked out of the vehicle! She asks in a panic, “Who are you? What have you done to Arnie?” The leader of the gang speaks, “Good evening, madame. I can’t help noticing you’re blind. Never mind, my dear –”. One of the men holding her suddenly punches her, causing her to collapse! The man continues, “there are some things in life it’s best not to see.”

Batman drops down promptly, sending the abusers down into the snow as he lands on them! He growls, “And one has just dropped in on you. Joy Boys… Your choice of role models stinks!” He decks another member as Tabitha asks repeatedly what’s happening. The leader taunts, “You won’t catch me, Bat-slime! I’ve got the fastest legs in Gotham City!” Batman speaks into a hidden voice commander and calls for the Batmobile before muttering the three magic words: finish the job!

The criminal is caught in the glaring headlights of the Batmobile before it automatically drives! The man lets out a blood curdling scream. Batman reassures Tabitha as he helps her up from the snow, “Scared senseless more than hurt. The car caught him at a glancing angle. Let's see if we can salvage any of your flowers.” He cordially keeps an arm wrapped around her upper back and tucks a red rose gently in her blonde hair. “There's one. Pretty as a picture.” She looks up, revealing her bruising eye. She asks, “D-do I really still look pretty, Batman? After all these years?” He smiles down at her. “More than pretty, Tabitha. You look beautiful…” He starts guiding her away from the scene of the attack as he softly prompts her to tell him what she knows about the break-ins.

Afterwards, Bruce is back in the Batmobile as he reports back, “I've got a name, Alfred. Not much else. The outfit's called ‘the Chessmen’. Their leader calls himself ‘King’, apparently.” Alfred comments, “Really? A bit obvious, wouldn't you say, sir?” Bruce snaps, “Everything about them is obvious… except where they are now, dammit!”

Alfred continues ironing Bruce's cape in the Batcave as he calmly notes, “You sound a little erratic, Master Bruce. Might I inquire when you last slept?” He dismisses his surrogate father's concern, promising, “I had a nap, old friend. I feel fine.” But Alfred presses, “Tell the truth and shame the devil!” Finally, Bruce reluctantly confesses, “Two or three days ago. You know I can't sleep, Alfred. Not 'til I get it back.”

He swings onto the roof of GCPD headquarters, where Jim Gordon is already waiting for him next to the Bat-Signal. Gordon informs, “We got an anonymous call. A direct lead to the gang who robbed half the town's mansions.” Batman exclaims, “The Chessmen! Where–?” Gordon sighs. “It's gotten… Complicated. The chief saw headlines. Insisted on a swat team. They messed up. What should have been a simple raid has ended as a hostage situation – Dammit! If he'd left it to my men or you…” Batman at once leaps off the building, having all the information he needs. His cape flares out as he vows, “Leave it to me now, Jim.”

At the scene, we see the SWAT team waiting outside in utility body armour and holding assault rifles. The chief speaks into a megaphone, “Listen up, Chessmen! This is Chief Yeats! Release my two officers and we can negotiate a deal!” The leader of the Chessmen, King, is standing in the window with a handgun pointed at a cop's head. He has the design of the king chess piece tattooed on his forehead and a purple mohawk. He shouts back, “No deals, pig! Take one more step and I blow a hole in this babe's head! I mean it, Yeats! We already wasted her partner!” The second cop lays dead at his feet.

One of the Chessmen with a rook tattoo apprehensively expresses, “This is too much, King. I thought we said no one was gonna get hurt.” King demands, “Shut up, Rook! Do what I say or we're dead men!" A voice from above booms, “You're worse than that – You're mine!” Suddenly Batman drops down while throwing a smoke bomb! He moves in stealth, avoiding the blind, erratic shooting from the panicked men that's trying to kill him and knocking them all unconscious as they scream, “He's on his own–!” “Rush him!” “Can't see him! Where'd he go?” “Over there!” “Blow his head off, Bishop!” He cries out, “He's moving too fast! Like an animal! A damn ani– ungh!” The Caped Crusader takes him down.

The smoke starts to clear, revealing that Batman is the only other man standing as King holds the hostage in front of him. He warns, “Stay back, Batman! We just wanted to rip off some rich guys! Give ourselves a little Christmas present! We didn’t want anyone to get hurt!” Batman growls, “Tell that to the officer down,” as he opens a small department on his belt and clicks a mysterious button.

Suddenly, screeching fills the air before a frenzy of bats burst into the building! King releases the hostage as he immediately gets swarmed by the bats. He screams, “Get them off me! I can’t stand– AAAA! Please! For the love of god! Get them off me!” The bats eventually flee, leaving King on his knees and the reveal that Batman and the hostage are nowhere to be found. He stammers out for his already defeated backup. “Ch-Chessmen? Where are you, Chessmen? K-King under attack.”

Batman suddenly appears, making the obvious pun in his triumphant, “Checkmate, King!” He continues to be unfunny as he shouts, “Game over!" and punches the man, knocking him back on the ground. Batman stands towering over the defeated criminal as he finally gets to demand, “I'm out of patience, King. The loot. Where is it stashed? Talk.”

The bellicostic police chief leads the SWAT men up to where the hostage situation was taking place, warning them to be very careful. They finally reach the floor and burst through the door, announcing, “Police! Freeze!” But to their dismay, they see the five Chessmen tied up on the floor as King hangs upside down above them. Chief Yeats yells, “The damn bat! That damn bat beat us again.”

One of the SWAT officers points out a note attached to King. It reads: ‘Act like a police chief, not a publicity hound, Yeats… or I'll have to act. I won't always have more urgent business like tonight. B.’ — The chief warns the men, “You didn't see this… Get me? But… uh… tell any news teams to throw focus on… uh… the heroic officer-hostages… Hey… It's the holidays, right?”

We join a single father sitting in a squalid apartment with his two little boys. The children sit on the floor in front of a plugged in space heater as they watch a small television that’s sitting on top of a cardboard box. A clothesline hangs over their head as the despondent man sits in front of the window, somberly waiting for the Dark Knight's arrival. Without turning, he addresses Batman. “I knew you’d come. I’ve been waiting here for two days. Thank god it’s over.” The children turn with a shout, pointing at Batman before running to be held by their father.

Batman asks, “You’ve been holding stolen goods. Where are they?” The man answers, “I already gave them back, Batman. Honest.” Batman queries, “You gave them back?” The father bows his head as he confesses, “Yeah. I was paid to stash them until the heat cooled off. But… I couldn’t keep those things. They didn’t belong to me. Don’t throw me in jail, Batman. It was me who tipped off the cops. It was me who told Gordon where they could find the Chessmen.”

Batman gently questions, “Any particular reason?” as the man starts to weep. “I'm not a thief, Batman. I just needed some money to feed my kids. Please, Batman! Please don't throw me in jail! The kids need me, Batman! Little boys shouldn't be left on their own.” The children start to cry and stare up at the Dark Knight as he looks at the cordolium scene. He agrees, “Okay. Just don't do it again.” And with a swoosh of his cape, he's out the door. The father looks up in shock at his agreement but the only evidence of Batman's presence being a roll of hundred dollar bills that's now sitting on top of the table.

At the Wayne Manor, we're in a child's bedroom. Dolls are perched serenely upon a chair. A toy house that'll never become a home lays next to a small rocking horse who's riding days are long gone. In the center of the room is a circular train track, where Bruce Wayne sits in thought. Still half dressed in his costume, he stares at a bright toy train. Alfred softly approaches. “I see you managed to recover it, Master.” Bruce murmurs, “My favorite thing. The last thing they ever gave me, Alfred. The last present from my mother and father… and I almost lost it.”

Alfred reassures him, “Not to worry, Sir. It's safe and sound in your old bedroom now.” Bruce continues to look at the little train. “You're right, old friend. Right as always.” Alfred gently prompts, “It's getting late, Master Bruce. Almost dawn. Time for bed, I think.” Bruce shifts to his knees, finally prying his eyes away from the toy and the memories it holds to look at his lifelong friend. He quietly agrees. “Yes, Alfred. Time for bed.”

We end on a distant view of the Wayne Manor, the ombré pink and purple sky casting a light on the pure white snow. A promise of peace after a restless, cold night.

END ID]

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

does anyone have tips for how to deal with the phenomenon of 'autistic need to sort and hypercategorize things, except that there are multiple different axes by which to sort them and you can't use them all at the same time, and the result is overwhelm and distress?'

i've learned that tagging systems help, at least, but sometimes they uh. sometimes they can only go so far

[redflannelsheets]

.

[millerscoffee]

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals.  It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it.  So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front.  He hands out papers, hovering by your desk.  Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down.  You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings.  “Shit,” you say to yourself.  That was it.  That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course.  You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling.  You failed.  Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind.  What were you to do?  How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it.  The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller.  Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes.  His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns.  He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve.  A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt.  Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him.  “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?”  Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl.  Proving not to judge a book by its cover.  The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff.  Predicates and imagery?  I’d rather be learning about biology.  But I need this course, you know.  And I…,” you swallow hard.  God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher.  He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,”  Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table.  He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms.  Keeps his distance.  “It happens, you know.  There are things we can do to accommodate.  You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail.  You have options.  I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final.  Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare.  You know the workload of this university.  Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?”  You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it.  The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help.  You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all.  I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though.  You’d have to come by my house…,”  he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course.  If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it.  You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did.  Though, that was neither here nor there.  His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing.  Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place.  But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay.  Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race.  Tonight?  Tonight?!  Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.”  How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively.  “Here’s my address.  7 o’clock.”

“Seven.  Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.”  His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat.  You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers.  It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar.  Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach.  It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home.  Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans.  His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted.  His stomach, soft at the bottom.  You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks.  You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too.  Charismatic as he invites you into his home.  Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks.  His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower.  What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home.  It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time.  His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures.  Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children.  He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right?  When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too.  Fuck, this feels so easy.  But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language.  He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that.  You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally.  Plump and ripe for the taking.  Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you.  What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression.  You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him.  And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen.  You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?”  When you take the water from him, your fingers graze.  The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind.  He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead.  The two lines between his brow.  “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table.  Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree.  You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop.  All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down.  You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster.  You dread it, you really do.  Going over your failures?  You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,”  Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift.  The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head.  “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought.  You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax.  Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself.  “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything.  See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.”  Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format.  This citation works for your research papers, right?”  He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day.  You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper.  “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs.  You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it?  You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly.  If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format.  Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting.  An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse.  You shift your gaze to look at him.  The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest.  The freckles that splayed over his aged skin.  “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement.  And a pointed one, it seems.  Someone to tell you what to do.  And Joel wanted to be that person?  Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it.  Maybe he did that just because this was his house.  That must’ve been it.  He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next.  He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either.  What?  I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart.  Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap.  You deserved better than that.  He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself.  He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes.  He felt for you.  And he was a bit lost in your eyes.  You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit.  Joel could see that.  He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted.  You threw him off without even trying.  The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise.  You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly.  “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay.  You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.”  He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.  The candor, the nerve.  A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were.  Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain.  They look soft, and… willing.  You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else.  You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming.  He’s not married?  You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this?  So close?  Backed by the glow of his house?  It was so different from the boys you were used to.  In their dorms or disgusting apartments.  It smelled as nice as it looked.  You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself.  You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster.  Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway.  I know I didn’t at that age.”

There.  The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?”  You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee.  Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers.  “Forty-six.  You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion.  How will this land?  What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out.  Do you fake it?  Do you give it to them straight?  Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you?  N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you.  It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp.  But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge.  It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you.  Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone.  No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet.  He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day?  You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing.  Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans.  His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that.  All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things.  That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready.  His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing.  Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually.  He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination.  “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses.  Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does.  On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat.  You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this.  You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.”  Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request.  “I – what?”

“No?”  Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood.  It’s just, straddling his face?  Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?”  His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural.  But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school.  Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today.  He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you.  “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?”  You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place.  And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures.  His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor.  “Fuck,” you mutter.  This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does.  You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest.  Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand?  All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening.  “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.”  Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told.  Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart.  Then, it’s incredibly palpable.  His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him.  You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself.  There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too.  Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt.  “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks.  Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do.  Has so much to teach you, if you let him.  Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much.  Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him.  An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much.  It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt.  Delicious, deliberate.  Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was.  Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last.  Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you.  A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained.  “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly.  Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery.  Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips.  Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there.  Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you.  The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you.  Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too.  He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin.  Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally.  Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone.  Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar.  You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was.  Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly.  Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor.  His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons.  “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had.  You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm.  And everything else.

“You know what you did?”  Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand.  You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress.  “What was it?”  You ask, curiously.  Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you.  His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

 “Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance.  “What is it?”  You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him.  “No.  No.  I want to feel you.  It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that.  At how gone your brain is.  Here he was, thinking he was the only one.  “Okay, okay, darlin’.  I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion.  But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head.  You were everywhere.  His mouth, his glistening chest and beard.  He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation.  Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock.  “Such a needy little thing, now,”  it’s as if someone else is talking.  This isn’t the Professor Miller you know.  This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it.  “So fucking wet.  Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock.  Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it.  “Take my cock.”

And take, you do.  Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock.  Clenching around the head and he growls at that.  “You dirty thing.  This how you fuck all your teachers?”  It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you!  Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you.  It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him.  “Just me, show me then.  Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over.  Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once.  Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

 It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own.  The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else.  His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole.  You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected.  Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore.  “Fuck me, Joel!  Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?”  Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first.  Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this.  When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you.  How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now.  His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow.  The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on.  The way it sounds.  Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you.  Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake.  You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs.  Over your own stomach.  You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your.  His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it.  I know you can take it.  Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby.  That’s it, that’s good, darlin’.  Shh, easy.  Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat.  Come for me, I know you can be so good for me.  Good for – fuck – fuck.  Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit.  “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop.  Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come.  Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore.  You feel too good.  Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves.  “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!”  Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms.  You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out.  So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear.  He doesn’t want to any more than you do.  But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out.  Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you.  You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back.  But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle.  When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too.  He’s just as disheveled.  The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?”  He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender.  More playful.  More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.”  he’s finished enough for you to roll over.  You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop.  He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant.  “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow.  “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,”  Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now.  “You will pass by your own volition.  I meant it – you are bright.  You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.”  He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave.  And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.”  You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue.  Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

[murdrdocs]

repressed and desperately horny luke who has never seen a porn video vs new to camp reader who used to be able to watch it whenever they wanted but now can't even flick the bean in peace

oh and maybe reader who gives Luke a dirty polaroid or two they've been hiding before they leave camp for the fall

— 🦣

🦣 anon strikes again omg. this concept actually makes me all giddy i want it to be something Bigger hence the informal format but just follow me here okay.

just thinking about ya'll finding each other in a moment of need. fate, really, if either of you believed in the concept. you, grumpy and insatiable from lack of proper sexual satisfaction, and luke, knowing he's feeling something but he doesn't know how to expel the need. sure he jacks off sometime, but not nearly as much as a guy of his age usually would.

so there you are, grumbling about, eyes narrowed, mimicking the behavior of ares kids (your possible siblings but it's anyone's guess at this point) and luke just has to go and be the mediator, asking what's got you so down. of course, you're wound up so tight, and a little grateful that someone your age has asked the question because you can finally tell the truth.

out comes your dirty secrets. your longing for peace and quiet to get off. your slightly remorseful nature because you had no idea that you were that reliant on pornography to help you out. and luke is just standing there, ears reddening as he suddenly finds the trees behind you incredibly interesting.

but luke is a Problem Solver, so he awkwardly has a suggestion for you. "the showers right before the bonfire are usually pretty deserted. and for your ..." he scratches a nonexistent itch behind his ear. "other problem, my brothers have some old magazines i could lend to you."

you snort, arms folding as you pretend to be disinterested. but really anything would satiate you at this point. "what are they? women on motorcycles? maybe an old playboy mag?"

luke shrugs. "dunno. never seen 'em."

and it takes you a second. a really long, tense, and warm (for luke) second where you eye him up. noticing his stance, taking in his clipped words, how he said them. and it occurs to you that little demigod luke, having been at camp half blood since 14, has never seen what the world has to offer in the pornography department. or if he has, he hasn't seen the porn of today.

and unfortunately, it's impossible for you to fix his issue in naivety. there are no phones in camp and even if there were, you don't think the service out here would be all too good. which leaves you to improvise.

you do end up getting the mags from the hermes boys, critiquing their selection with a scrutinized glare at the pages, flicking through them with the edge of your shirt to avoid any remnants. and then you report back to luke, telling him to give them a look, prefacing it by telling him that things now are much more entertaining. slyly hinting at your ears being open if he wanted to give his opinion.

which, he does. standing awfully close to you at the bonfire one night, body turned just a little so he can speak lowly.

"there's ... things better than that out there?"

you nod, affirming his statement while attempting to hide a small smile. the magazines were barely pornography in your eyes, women in manufactured poses to appeal to men. skin artificially smoothed, their cunts shockingly dry, their poses so meticulous. it lacked the emotion and desire that you enjoyed to watch.

and poor luke didn't even know the half of it.

at least you do introduce him to what he could be consuming just before you leave camp that summer, sliding him two polaroids you'd managed to take.

one of you in the showers, body littered with clumps of suds. your skin shining from the overhead light which gleams from the water along your body. it's taken from a low angle, the side of your backside being the main focal point with your tits at the top just barely making the cut.

and then the other is much more lewd, showing luke what the magazines should have. you, on your back in a camp bed, wearing nothing but your standard issued shirt which is bunched up around the waist. your free hand is between your spread thighs, two fingers clearly singled out to spread your lips and reveal just how wet and shiny your cunt is. and after one of his many sessions of getting off over it, the post nut clarity manifests as hyper analyzing for luke.

he notices the familiar pair of shoes off to the corner, the pillowcase he had one of his brothers sneak in last summer, the stain he's never been able to get out of his fitted sheet.

and suddenly the picture has new meaning for him.

[major-comet]

the biggest problem with tos’ episodic format is that the episode usually ends pretty quickly after the conflict resolves and then they never really talk about it again - no matter how intense or harrowing it was

which means that we don’t get to actually *see* the interpersonal fallout of bones being diagnosed with and cured from a previously-incurable terminal illness (that he didn’t even want to tell jim and spock he had), and then just four episodes later drugging them so that he can go be tortured (and likely die) instead of spock, and so jim doesn’t have to make the choice between them.

did they talk about it? beyond just a standard debrief and a “never fucking do that again bones i swear to god i mean it this time”? did they make it the captains’ quarters for the debrief, only for mccoy to be pulled into a crushing, trembling hug as soon as the door shut while jim tried to assure himself that bones was still here, was still breathing? spock hovering nearby - a hand gently coming to rest on his shoulder?

why didn’t mccoy want to tell them about the xenopolycythemia, anyways? to try and hold onto a few more normal-ish months before every time they looked at him their eyes would be filled with grief - mourning a man they hadn’t yet lost? the same reason he ran away; to spare them what he went through with his father?

only for him to immediately turn around and throw himself back to the wolves to (almost) die right in front of them anyways

i don’t really know how they handled it. whether they talked about it and attempted to soothe the hurt, or just resolutely tried to bottle it up.

but i do know this: spock eventually came back from gol because jim simply (though accidentally) called out for him in a moment of need. bones only came back because jim personally drafted him back into starfleet

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE NEVER BEFORE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: your patience is thinning. despite having a conversation with dazai and being led to believe everything is okay, he's suddenly avoiding you again. luckily, or maybe unluckily, his hand is forced when he realizes that you're not waiting for him this time. whether he likes it or not, this confrontation is happening—except you slowly realize as it goes on that dazai's definition of intimacy is dreadfully different from yours.

{wordcount: 10.4k; ņsfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, i wouldn't say this is angst but it does deal with some references to heavy topics; jealous!dazai, depictions of dissociation (dazai), dazai's on the brink of a mental breakdown for a bit in the beginning, references to abuse (dazai. no actual depictions), references to dubcon (dazai. no actual depictions), dazai is wildly intelligent but not so much when it comes to sex & other forms of intimacy (he is quite uneducated in fact), slight oral (male rec), unprotected sex, sub!dazai, dazai and reader argue for a bit (he calls her a whore - doesn't mean it but still says it)}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 😒i hope you guys know im sitting here glaring at my computer because i did not want to post this fic. it's been sitting in my google drive for like AGES and im literally having to physically force myself into formatting this post because i wanted to keep it hoarded forever. anyway, read the warnings for this one pretty pls, this fic is a bit loaded—not exactly angst, but it references some heavy topics. let me know if any warnings are missing as always!

“I’m so sick and tired of him.”

You listen as Chuuya lets out another heavy sigh next to you, pointedly taking a sip of his wine, but you don’t even bother to glance at him as you glare down at your phone. Left on read, again, Dazai ignores your message asking him to meet you and Chuuya at the bar. You slam your phone down on the dark wood of the bar top before reaching for your own glass, taking a large gulp of it before opening your mouth to continue complaining, much to Chuuya’s displeasure.

“I thought things would be different after we talked. He moved back into my apartment but he’s still avoiding me like the fucking plague. I mean Christ, I broke up with my boyfriend, came crawling back to him because I knew he was pissed even though he’d rather kill himself—literally—than admit he likes me. Why the fuck can’t he even given an inch? Meet me halfway?” 

“Because he’s Dazai,” Chuuya says dryly. “What did you expect from him, honestly? … And we all know you weren’t going to stick with that civilian.”

“Oh, shut up,” you tell him bitterly. “That’s not the point. The point is I did, and I went right to him, and we talked, and he acted like everything was fine, and now he’s pulling this shit. How is he going to live in my fucking apartment and avoid me at every corner? And whenever I do manage to catch him, he makes up some bullshit excuse about a mission I know he doesn’t have and disappears.”

You lean back in your chair, brows furrowed and fingers curled around your glass. By now, all of the people that had been sitting near the two of you at the bar have dispersed to the dancefloor—if your arrival with Chuuya hadn’t been enough to send them scattering, your foul mood was more than enough to make them give you a wide berth.

“I’m frustrated,” you finally hiss. “I’m just frustrated, am I allowed to be frustrated, Chuuya?”

Chuuya side-eyes you. “Stop fuckin’ complaining to me about it and do something about it, jeez,” he says, hand sliding into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he fumbles for a lighter to light it.

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” you ask, becoming increasingly more irritated as you pull out your own lighter to light it for him. “I tried talking to him, now he’s ignoring me.”

Chuuya has the audacity to roll his eyes, looking at you with an unimpressed expression that makes you want to pluck his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on his skin. As if he can hear your thoughts, he leans back, giving you a suspicious look.

“I’m not talking about that shithead,” Chuuya drawls. “If you’re so frustrated, go find some sorry bastard to fuck it out of you. We both know that’s all it takes to get you to settle down.”

“Fuck you,” you say instantly, not appreciating how he acts like you’re a nympho. But already, your gaze is carding across the room, trying to see if someone catches your eye. When you find yourself disappointed, you look back at him and ask, “You offering yourself up?”

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Fuck no,” he tells you instantly. “No way. Don’t even say that shit to me.”

You’re almost offended, squinting at him and leaning back in your seat. “Why not? Like old times. You know what I like, I know what you like, we can make a good night out of it,” you propose as you lean your elbow on the bartop and observe him.

“Because shitty Dazai will never let me hear the end of it if he finds out,” Chuuya says pointedly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Bastard is annoying as is, if he finds out I’ve slept with you? It’d be the end of the world.”

“You have slept with me though, Chuuya,” you taunt. “Who’s to say I won’t tell him anyway?”

You won’t, but you like the way Chuuya’s lip curls up in irritation around his cigarette.

“Go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll tell him all about that time in Osaka.”

You gasp, scandalized. “Chuuya,” you hiss. “You would not. You swore.”

“Try me,” Chuuya says, raising his eyebrows at you, looking all too smug as you flounder for a response.

Humbled, and a bit mortified, you return to looking around the club, lowering your standards this time. You spot a blonde standing in the corner of the club, eyes flitting around curiously as he observes the people on the dancefloor, and a redhead laughing wildly as she spins with a drink in hand, teetering off to the edge of the floor. You purse your lips.

“No one is catching my attention,” you complain, sinking back down in your seat.

You decidedly don’t like the smirk that edges onto his lips as he looks at you, and it’s for good reason, because the next words out of his mouth have your eye twitching: “You’re that down bad for him already? Jesus.”

“I am not,” you spit out, glaring at him before pointedly returning to your hunt, looking around more intensely this time. 

But even as you do that, you start to wonder if that’s why no one is standing out to you tonight. How the fuck is anyone supposed to compare to Dazai Osamu? The thought is ridiculous—you don’t want to tug at blonde hair to pull someone down into a kiss, you don’t want a head of tousled red locks buried between your thighs, there’s only one person you actually want in your bed and he’s been avoiding you since you talked things out with him.

You let out a heavy sigh, considering just admitting defeat, but then your eyes drift to a tall, dark haired man entering the club, making his way over to the bar; his hair is a bit too long and a bit too straight, and his eyes aren’t the right shade, but they’re sharp enough and you’re tipsy enough to willfully confuse them for the familiar brown you desire.

“Nevermind,” you breathe out. Chuuya doesn’t even spare you a goodbye as you slip from your seat to make your way over to the man, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. “I found someone.”

Chuuya was right.

You think maybe you should stop doubting him as much as you do. This is not the first time that you’ve fought him tooth and nail about something only for him to be proven right in the end. But you’re not going to tell him that because he has a big enough ego and you’re not going to feed into it.

Dealing with Dazai’s fickleness the past two weeks has been much easier now that you’re fucking out your frustrations with strangers as soon as he’s gone for the night on whatever mission Mori assigns him. You take his aloofness in stride, ignoring the way he blows you off and avoids you in your own home. You think it’s bothering him, actually, because now when you walk past him without a second glance, you can see the way he hesitates from the corner of your eye, an indecipherable expression crossing over his face.

Good, you think. You hope he feels like shit. 

You let out a soft breath as you tilt your head to the side, giving the man you’re with better access. From the corner of your eye, with the tousled brown hair, you can almost pretend it’s him, but you know it’s not. His hair isn’t as soft as Dazai’s, who all but hijacked your expensive shampoos and conditioners, and you can’t feel the bandages that should be tucked beneath the tufts of hair. Your mind starts to drift, comparing how you think Dazai’s touch would be to this man’s. When you first kissed him, he was unsure and hesitant, would he still be now? Or has he grown more confident? You think he must’ve, you’ve seen him with people during events, lips tilted up in a sensual smile, lashes fluttering as he leads them into one of the backrooms. 

Sick and unfair, you think to yourself bitterly.

You let out a heavy, disappointed sigh.

“You good?” the man asks—you don’t remember his name, you don’t even know if you cared to ask. His voice is distinctly different from Dazai’s low hum whenever he teases you, a total immersion-break from your desired reality.

You roll your eyes, irritated. “Don’t speak.”

The man lets out a noise of agreement, fingers biting a bit harder into your waist as he continues kissing down your neck. You don’t really mind, the sting is nice, just enough force to draw your mind away from Dazai. The sigh you let out is more pleased now, eyes slipping shut as his hands slide up your body, kisses trailing down your neck to your collarbone. His lips are too soft; Dazai’s are horribly chapped no matter how much chapstick you force on him.

Dazai is out on another “mission”. You don’t even know if it’s a real mission or if he’s just claiming it’s a mission so he doesn’t have to stick around the apartment while you’re there, lowering the chances of running into you. For all you know, he’s just going back to that shitty shipping container he spent a year in and hanging out there until you leave for one of your own missions or a meeting. He looked particularly sullen as he left earlier, casting looks back to where you’d disappeared into the kitchen, not realizing you could still see him before he finally left your apartment. 

He’s such a pain in the ass, you think, getting irate again as he drifts back into your thoughts. He makes everything so difficult, things would be so much easier he just admitted that he wanted to be with you. You really don’t know how much more of this back and forth, wishy-washy shit you can take from him. You care about Dazai. You do. Probably more than anyone else in your life and you’re sick of him taking it for granted. 

You hum in approval when the man lifts his hands to your button-up, hesitating as he waits for your consent, and your gaze flicks up to the ceiling as he continues kissing down the revealed skin; from the crook of your neck to your collarbone, between your breasts, he unbuttons all the way to your navel.

You find yourself a bit bored, counting the specks on the ceiling, taking note of the crack that you’re sure is somehow Dazai’s fault. You think there must only be two more buttons left for him to undo before you can slide the shirt off of your shoulders but you start to feel uncomfortable under his touch, you feel prickly and his lips trailing down your body makes your skin crawl.

“Off,” you finally say, voice sharp. You press your hand against his shoulder to push him off of you, sitting up straight to sit properly on the couch. You scowl as you fumble through your pants pockets to find a cigarette.

This is Dazai’s fault somehow.

“Did I do something wrong?” the man asks hesitantly, trying to shift closer to you again. “I-”

“No,” you say bluntly, lighting the cigarette and lifting it to your lips. “Get out of my apartment.”

The man hesitates, you can feel his eyes lingering on you and you’re becoming increasingly more irritated, shooting him a glare from the corner of your eye until he finally rises to his feet, buttoning his shirt as he makes his way over to the elevator. You slump back against the couch, sighing as you look up at the ceiling and take a long drag from your cigarette.

Dazai’s fault. As soon as he crossed your mind, your whole demeanor had changed and you try to convince yourself that it’s because you just don’t know what his issue is. You don’t know why he’s avoiding you, you don’t know what changed after you met with him at the bar; you thought things would be good between the two of you. You thought you’d be able to be with him now that nothing’s left in your way but evidently there still is something preventing the two of you from being together and it’s something that Dazai is not sharing with you.

Bastard, you think bitterly, about to pull out your phone to send Chuuya a very irritated and very foul message about Dazai but before you can, the elevator leading up to your floor bings and you look up to watch the man you’d invited over leave.

Except as the doors slide open, you realize that someone is already standing in there.

You sit up straight when you see Dazai standing in the elevator, black gaze trained right on the man leaving your apartment. His movements are almost robotic as he steps out of the elevator, his head twisting to follow the man as he steps in the elevator. He looks distinctly unnerved as Dazai’s soulless gaze tracking him until the elevator doors slide back shut.

It’s only then that Dazai only turns to look at you. His face is eerily void of emotion as he looks at you, gaze dipping down to your unbuttoned shirt and the light bruises blooming on your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, wondering if he’s going to say something, but he only stands there staring at you.

“I thought you had a mission,” you finally say, leaning forward to put your cigarette out on the ashtray on the coffee table to button up your shirt half way so you’re not nearly undressed. When you finish, you pick up your glass of wine and take a sip. “You’re back early.” 

“I finished early,” Dazai replies, monotonic. 

He doesn’t budge from where he’s standing, limbs stiff and face blank. You glance down, noticing that he’s holding something in his right hand—a bag, takeout, maybe? Looks like it’s from that place in Hodogaya-ku that you like. 

“What’s that?” you ask, nodding toward the bag. Dazai follows your gaze down to it, staring at it as if he doesn’t even know what it is. You frown, becoming a bit concerned as you rise to your feet. “Dazai, you good?”

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave the bag for a second; after what feels like an eternity, he finally looks back up at you but he doesn’t even seem to be looking at you, rather it feels like he’s looking through you like you’re not even there.

“I got food,” he says blankly.

Your eyes widen a bit, wondering if this is meant to be his apology for being an asshole the past few weeks. Dazai never apologizes—he disappears until he can act like nothing happened or he does something to make up for what he did, but he doesn’t ever acknowledge what he did. It’s frustrating, but you’ve gotten used to his quirks over the years. You’d been wondering why he seemed so melancholic before he left.

You nod at the spot next to you on the couch, accepting the apology and sitting back down. “I’ll put on a movie.”

Dazai looks at the spot like it’s been poisoned, expression finally twisting from the emptiness into one of disgust.

“What?” you demand, offended.

Dazai doesn’t even respond to you; you can only stare in disbelief as he turns on his heel and walks in the direction of the kitchen. You don’t budge for a second, staring in shock to where he disappeared to, but after a few moments, you force yourself up to your feet and follow after him.

Your mind races as you make your way down the short hall into the kitchen, standing in the door frame as you watch him put the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter, pulling the different containers out of the bag and then opening the fridge. His movements are stiff and abrupt, almost robotic, and your irritation slips away when you see the expression on his face.

Closed-off. Withdrawn. Very reminiscent of the look on his face from that time he came back to your apartment after a mission that went wrong post-Dragon’s head Conflict, right before he had his first breakdown in front of you. He’d been trying to hold it all back, desperate to not lose control in front of you, but it was to no avail because it only made it worse.

“Dazai, what’s wrong?” you ask carefully as he stuffs another container into the fridge, so roughly that the plastic almost snaps. “Dazai-”

“Nothing,” Dazai responds sharply, voice cold and cutting but the way he takes in a sharp, shaky breath betrays him. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing.”

“Okay, that’s a lie,” you say flatly, sighing to yourself. “Can you just-”

“You’re the liar,” Dazai cuts you off, voice shrill and defensive in a way you’ve never heard from him before. Something crosses his face: a weird mixture of panic, anger and distress, like he knows he’s losing control of his emotions but he can’t stop himself. You don’t usually have such a hard time reading Dazai—it’s difficult, yes, but not as impossible as it currently is. It’s stressing you out because you don’t know what’s wrong and he’s clearly working himself up more over it. “You’re the liar. You’re the liar.”

Your eye twitches. Three breaths in and three breaths out. Now’s really not the time for you to lose your temper on him considering he’s on the brink of a mental breakdown for whatever reason. But you’re pissed, you don’t know why he’s calling you a liar and you don’t know what is going on, and you don’t want to deal with this especially after he just spent weeks ignoring and avoiding you.

“What did I lie about, Dazai?” you ask tightly, nails digging into your palms as you wait for a response. “Please, enlighten me.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tightening as he resumes tossing the food into the fridge.

“Dazai, stop,” you tell him, taking a step forward when he finally gets to the bottom of the takeout bag and slams the fridge shut so hard that it rattles. He grabs the empty bag and is about to storm over to the garbage can but before he can, you reach forward and grab his wrist, stopping him. “Will you fucking talk to me?”

“Let go,” Dazai hisses, trying to rip his arm from your hold but your fingers are too tight around his wrist, his bandages rough against the pads of your fingers—you don’t know why he’s still using those old scratchy ones when you stocked up with the softer ones but it only serves to irritate you more because why are you going out of your way to do nice things for him if he’s just going to toss it to the side? “Let go of me.”

“Tell me what your issue is,” you demand. “I’m done playing games with you, Dazai. Grow the fuck up and communicate.”

Dazai’s eye is wide and wild, looking far too much like a cornered animal as he bares his teeth at you and tries to yank out of your hold on him again. “My issue is that you’re a whore,” he spits out. “Let go of me. Now.”

You let go of him.

Instantly, the anger in Dazai’s face fizzles away. His eye is just as wide but his expression is lax, lips parted as if he’s only now just registering what he said. And you know he regrets it, you know that Dazai lashes out when he feels cornered; he becomes cruel and vicious, desperate in his attempts to protect himself when he feels vulnerable and since Dazai is Dazai, he knows how to hurt people. Knows exactly where the chinks in your armor are, drives the dagger in deep and twists it.

But even knowing this, it still hurts hearing that from him of all people.

“Okay.”

Your voice is quiet, you don’t even waste a second before turning on your heel and leaving the kitchen.

“Wait,” Dazai calls after you, voice wavering. “Wait, I didn’t…”

He can’t even finish the sentence because Dazai is Dazai and he doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t admit his wrongs. Doesn’t admit that he lost control and said something he didn’t mean to say. Would rather preserve his false visage of control than do anything like that.

“Where are you going?” Dazai asks and you can hear him trailing after you, words drawn long and shaky. “Hey, wait-”

You don’t know where you’re going. Leaving your apartment, you think, considering your feet are moving right to the elevator, but once you leave the building? You’re not sure. Maybe you’ll head over to Chuuya’s and crash at his apartment for the night, maybe you’ll go get shit-faced at a bar. You don’t really care, you just don’t want to be anywhere near Dazai right now. He’s put you through enough the past few weeks for you to stand here and take this shit from him. 

“I don’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice cold and sharp. “Maybe I’ll go find that guy I kicked out and finish the job if I’m such a whore.”

Dazai inhales sharply from behind you. “What?” he breathes out. “No. No. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” you scoff, not even looking back at him. “Didn’t mean it? You can’t even bring yourself to say it, Dazai. Clearly you did.”

That’s not true, you know it’s only Dazai’s pride that prevents him from forcing those words out, but you know it makes him flinch and you know it makes him hesitate. You also know how to target chinks in armor.

“No,” Dazai tries again, more insistent this time. You can hear him speeding up behind you when he realizes you’re going for the elevator. “No, you don’t need to do that. I don’t-I don’t get you. I don’t get this. I don’t get any of this.”

He sounds confused, borderline distressed—you don’t even know what he’s talking about, what he’s so confused and distressed about. How could you? He never explains anything to you, never communicates.

“You don’t get what?” you demand, reaching out for the button of the elevator but Dazai lunges forward to grab your wrist before you can. You finally turn to look at him, catching the way his jaw is tight and the strange emotion swimming in his eye. “You don’t get what, Dazai? Spit it out.”

“Why are you still sleeping with other people?” he asks, voice hitching. “You have me. You don’t need anyone else.”

You can’t help yourself—you laugh in Dazai’s face.

“No way,” you say immediately.

You don’t mean it in the way it comes out. You know it comes out as if you’re saying you’d never sleep with him, but you’re more so saying no way because you can’t believe he has the audacity to say this to you after he just spent weeks avoiding and ignoring you. 

Is this what his issue is? He doesn’t know how to cope with emotions so he evades and lashes out and just expects you to stick around waiting until he grows up? Fuck him. You deserve better than that, you waited long enough, you thought you were done with these games with him.

You don’t miss the way Dazai’s expression crumbles at your words, the way he stares at you, lips parted in disbelief. You don’t correct yourself, a part of you is happy that you can get your own knife in even if you do know you’ll regret it later. 

“What do you mean no?” Dazai’s voice wobbles a bit before he takes half a step back. His fingers are weak around your wrist but he doesn’t let go, feels a lot like a child clinging to their parent’s shirt. “What-I-I’m here. You want it, you were just going to-”

Not that that’s even the issue anymore, but you’re definitely not in the mood now. Honestly, you just want to go to bed. Your head hurts and Dazai is stressing you out and pissing you off all at the same time, plus you have no interest in fucking him when he seems like he’s on the verge of a mental break anyway.

“No, I don’t. I changed my mind,” you say, frustrated. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai replies, voice pitched and tinged with something too close to desperation. “No. You want me and I’m here, so you should-”

God, what the fuck is your life? You’re so frustrated that you want to pull your hair out and scream at him.

“Enough, Dazai.” You raise your voice at him. “Enough. I don’t want you. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai insists and your eyes widen when you feel his grip tighten on your wrist.

“Daz-” You start to say but you can’t even finish his name, cut off by his other hand finding its way to your hip, pressing you back against the closed doors of the elevator as he dips his head down to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your protest before you can even get it out. 

You think absently that you were right earlier when you were letting your thoughts wander to what kissing Dazai would be like. He’s no longer unsure and hesitant with his touches, his lips slide against yours with the expertise of someone who’s spent a lifetime kissing. The hand on your hip slides up your body so that he can hold your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. And you shouldn’t be indulging this, you know that—Dazai pissed you off, he has some nerve calling you a whore and then whoring himself out to you—but his lips are intoxicating, you can hardly think straight with them pressed against yours. 

He has your right hand pinned to the metal behind you, fingers curled tight around your wrist as he holds you in place. The way he kisses you is familiar, almost, and your brows furrow as you try to figure out why until feel his fingers brush through your hair, slow and lingering, dizzying, right before his tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip—a pattern of actions that you usually take to make your partners more malleable. 

Did he teach himself this just by observing the way you act with people at events?

You don’t fall for your own tricks though, so instead, your free hand drops to his waist, fingers slipping through his belt loops as you press into him, pushing off the elevator to walk him backwards down the hall to his bedroom. He lets out a surprised noise in the back of his throat, letting you walk him back; his fingers fall from where they’d been around your wrist and you take the opportunity to hook yours around his other belt loop, keeping his body flush to yours until you have his back pressed against his bedroom door.

You notice, a bit absently, that Dazai is a lot more pliant now with you in control. His hands are loose at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them—much like when you shared his first kiss with him—and he still kisses you back, lips moving slowly against yours, but it’s not with the intensity he had when you were pinned to the elevator door.

Strange.

You think kissing Dazai is a lot like a drug, one that you got your first hit of two years ago when you offered to be his first kiss but then never had another chance to get another taste of. You were bitter when he first started following in yours and Chuuya’s footsteps in taking people to bed to unwittingly ease information out of them—you’d find yourself watching him like a hawk as he drew people into secluded corners, as he pressed his lips against theirs and let their hands explore his body. You’d hardly be able to draw your eyes away once, not until he eventually led them out of the area to a bedroom.

You hated it. Truly. You like to tell yourself that you’re not jealous but you know it’s a blatant lie. As much as people would sell their souls to spend a night with you, they’d be just as desperate for one with Dazai because Dazai is Dazai. He’s untouchable. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. The youngest executive in history. He can be smooth and charming, yes, and he’s undoubtedly handsome. But more than that, he’s dark and unfathomable in a way that piques peoples’ interest in a sick and perverted fashion—they want to know what he’s like behind closed doors, they’re terrified of him but they want him, be it because of morbid curiosity or sheer lust.

And you hated that other people got to be with him in ways you couldn’t. Your only consolation seems to be that he had his eyes on you as much as you had yours on him, seeing how he’s pretty much perfectly mimicking the way you kiss and touch people, but you don’t know if that’s just because he was trying to learn through observing you—as he does with everyone—or if he hated watching you with other people just as much-

Oh.

Oh, you’re so stupid.

“You were jealous,” you realize, understanding what had triggered Dazai’s meltdown with the takeout food and insults toward you. Dazai stiffens against the door and you take the opportunity to trail your lips from his down to his jaw. “You were jealous over the guy I had over.”

“No-”

“You were.” You don’t even let him finish the protest, nipping at the spot beneath his ear gently and watching how he shudders. “How cute.”

“It’s not cute.” Dazai bristles. “You-you weren’t supposed-you’re not supposed to keep seeing people. I thought you were done with that. I thought we were-”

“We were what?” you ask coolly. “You avoided me for weeks after we talked, Dazai. Whatever we may or may not have been after we talked at the bar, it’s nothing when you start actively ignoring me for weeks after that.”

“But-”

You’re getting irritated again. “Dazai, you ignored me for weeks. I was pissed off and frustrated. And when I’m pissed off and frustrated, if I don’t have some way to relieve my stress, I do something stupid. Something stupid like putting a bullet in you the next time you stepped into my apartment after actively going out of your way to avoid me.”

“I was going out to get food,” Dazai says sullenly as if you were supposed to know that. “So we could watch a movie.”

“Last I recall, telepathy isn’t exactly part of my ability, Dazai,” you say dryly, calming yourself down by leaning in to brush your lips against his again.

A drug, you think again as the anger melts away when you feel his breath hitch against your lips. You reach behind him to open his bedroom door, guiding him in as you kiss him slowly. He’s fumbling again, unsure what to do with his fingers, clumsily moving his lips against yours until the back of his knees hits the bed, and he goes flopping down back on it. 

You snort at the surprised look on his face, joining him on the bed as you straddle his hips. You hover over him for a second before leaning down to give him another chaste kiss, enjoying the way he tries to chase your lips when you pull away.

“Tell me why you were avoiding me,” you say quietly as you lift a hand to cup his cheek. 

A foul move, you know. Dazai is always weak to gentle touches as much as he tries to pretend otherwise. You’ve noticed it when you watch movies with him and when he curls into bed with you on nights he can’t sleep. Just as you expect, he leans into your touch, lashes fluttering.

“Dazai,” you urge, “tell me why. What did I do?”

You didn’t do anything, you think bitterly, but you figure taking responsibility will be the easiest way to get him talking. You’ll fight about it later.

Dazai, to your surprise, turns his face away from you and your touch, a faraway look in his eye as he stares at the wall.

“You didn’t do anything,” he says. “I just didn’t-”

He cuts himself as if he can’t even bring himself to say it, and you know you have to do something because he seems to be withdrawing even more into his own head, eyes growing more distant with each passing second. You turn his head so that he’s facing you again and you lean down to press your lips briefly against his.

“You didn’t what?” you ask him.

Dazai still looks like he doesn’t want to answer, conflict spreading across his face as he stares up at you before he sighs and averts his gaze. “I don’t understand any of this. I didn’t want to disappoint,” he says so quietly that you barely hear him.

Your brows furrow. 

“Disappoint?” you question, a bit baffled. Dazai has a complex about failure. You know that too, have known it since you were sixteen. He can’t handle it, nothing makes him spiral quite like the idea of failure—you and he are quite similar in that regard—but you don’t understand what he means in this context. “Disappoint with what?”

Dazai doesn’t answer, doesn’t meet your eyes either, and your mind races to figure out what he might be referring to. You recall how he became hesitant and unsure when you finally took control, fingers twitching at his sides, body pliant as you moved him around, almost like a doll for you to maneuver as you pleased.

“Disappoint with this?” you finally realize, watching as he grimaces, confirming your suspicions. Your chest drops. “You avoided me because… you didn’t want to have sex?”

That makes you feel a bit sick to your stomach because what does he think of you if he went to this length to avoid you just because… Dazai’s entire body jolts at your words as if realizing how they came across.

“No,” he pushes out instantly. His hands dart out to cling to your shirt as if he’s worried you’re going to leave. “No, no. I want to. I do. Not just this… just in general. Everything. Me… This is just one part of it… the easiest to make mistakes with. I don’t like making mistakes.”

It’s only mildly reassuring.

“Dazai…” You start to say, pulling away, but his hands dart up to grab your waist so he can hold you in place on top of him. You think maybe the two of you need to talk. Again. “I just, I don’t understand.”

“I want this,” he repeats again, hands sliding down from your waist to curl his fingers around the hem of your shirt. He sees that you’re not convinced by his words so he pushes out a “Please” that nearly stops you in your tracks because you don’t think Dazai Osamu has ever begged for anything in his life.

You lean down to press your lips against his again. You set the pace this time, lifting your hand to cup his cheek—you pull the same move that he tried with you, nails gently scraping his scalp as you brush your fingers through his hair. Dazai melts into it in a way that you didn’t, lashes fluttering and lips parting instinctively, letting you deepen the kiss. Dazai’s breath catches as you push your tongue into his mouth, shivering when you trace the back of his teeth. 

Too pliant. All of the confidence he had earlier when he had you pinned to the elevator is gone. His breath wavers against your lips, and his fingers tremble as he grips at the hem of your button-up. Not a firm grip like you’d have anticipated, with his fingers digging into the plush skin of your hips as he grinds you down on his cock; instead, his fingers are clinging to the fabric as if he’s too overwhelmed to even think of grabbing your body.

“Tell me what you like,” you say quietly, fingers still absently carding through his dark locks as you kiss down his neck. Your other hand slips beneath his dress shirt, smoothing out over the bandages wrapped around his torso. “I want to know, wanna make you feel good.”

Dazai’s lips part to respond to you, but the only thing that escapes them is a pitched gasp—high and cracking in desperation, grip on your shirt so tight that you think he might rip it. He’s already hard, can feel his cock straining against his black pants, pressed against your thigh.

“I don’t-” Dazai’s voice is ragged; he sounds overwhelmed, almost confused. “I don’t know.”

“Hm?” you prod, nipping his neck and relishing in the way his whole body shudders at the feeling. “C’mon, Dazai, you’ve done this before. Tell me what you like.”

His gasp is choked when your hand tightens on his slim waist, lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back. More pliant and more sensitive, you note curiously, kissing back up his neck to tug at his earlobe with your teeth, a shiver running down your spine at the broken moan Dazai lets out into your ear. He jolts, eyes widening and face flushing—he looks as if he’s startled himself by the noise that escaped his lips, and you start to become a bit suspicious.

“I don’t know,” he tells you, sounding confused and frustrated. “I don’t know. It’s never felt like this before. How are you doing that?”

You pause.

You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, pulling your face back from his ear to look at him carefully because why is he acting like he’s never done this before? You know he’s slept around a lot. He picked it up over half a year ago when he got tired of hearing you and Chuuya brag about how easy it is to get things out of people like this. Made a point of making sure you knew about it when you had your boyfriend.

It’s never felt like this before.

Your chest swirls, and you feel a bit disconcerted as his words finally process. It’s never felt like what? Dazai doesn’t know why you’ve stopped, you can feel him tugging at your shirt, hazy eyes trying to focus on you. You wonder if the gears in his head are turning, realizing something might be wrong but unable to pinpoint what.

You kiss him to distract him, deeper this time. You press his head back against the soft pillow, one hand sliding to cradle the back of it as you try to break all of the quick-moving cogs in his brain so you can think in peace, cursing the fact that his mind has always been quicker and sharper than yours.

Dazai is Dazai. He’s smooth, charming—when he wants to, he could seduce anyone into his bed. You’ve watched him do it at events, sidling up close and leaning in to speak to people, dark eye lidded and voice low, a slow smirk curling at his lip as he brushes his finger lightly against the target’s lower back before guiding them out of the room. Christ, he’s nearly flustered you on more than one account. You want to say that he’s not the same kid who was nervous to kiss you two years ago, but he clearly is with how he’s reacting to your kisses and touches right now. But he shouldn’t be—maybe it’s because it’s you he’s with, maybe he’s just nervous because it’s you and not some random person he’s seducing for information.

But that doesn't explain the comment. Doesn’t explain it’s never felt like this before. 

“Never felt like what?” you ask as you kiss the corner of his lips and down his jaw again, all the way to the line of bandages peeking out from his dress shirt. You undo the first few buttons, watching the way his chest rapidly rises and falls under your touch as you smooth your hands over his chest. “Hm?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Dazai says, voice cracking and another breathy sound spilling from his lips as you kiss the underside of his jaw. “It’s just-it’s usually just-it’s not this.”

That doesn’t help you at all, you think. You’re about to press, but your lips on his skin have evidently made Dazai’s lips looser than they typically are because you don’t even have to voice a clarifying question to get him talking again.

“The way you’re touching me. Kissing me. It’s not like this, doesn’t feel so good,” he continues and you can hear the whine building in the back of his throat as he speaks. “It’s just sex.”

You slide his button-up off of his shoulders, revealing his bandaged body to you. You don’t make any move to remove them, but now you stare down at him, a bit perplexed. “This is sex,” you say, voice a bit stunted because you didn’t expect him to say that.

“No,” Dazai says, seemingly equally perplexed by your words, drawn out of the haze of pleasure into a more confused state. “Sex is sex. It’s penetrative.” 

“... Sex isn’t just penetrative, Dazai,” you say, baffled. “This is sex. It’s foreplay.”

Dazai stares at you like he doesn’t even know what that word means.

Oh, you realize, heart sinking as you realize why Dazai is so thrown off by all of this. How has he had sex without foreplay? Sex without foreplay is… it’s boring, not enjoyable at all. More animalistic than anything, borderline painful half of the time. Is that what he’s been doing with all of the people he seduces for information? The thought is a bit jarring, but the more you think about it, the more you think it might make sense. 

Dazai is prodigious when he’s given something that he can study and mimic; can execute flawless imitations of the behaviors he’s trying to learn. He learned the art of leadership from observing Mori. The art of war from observing the Colonel’s operations before his death. Adaptability from observing Kouyou during missions. Business from observing Ace’s meetings and transactions. Seduction from observing you interacting with people during events. Dazai is as terrifying as he is because he’s a perfect amalgamation of the entire upper echelon’s best skill sets. He’s adopted Mori’s mannerisms, the Colonel's strategic capability, Kouyou’s ability to adapt to any situation, Ace’s shrewdness with yen, and your charisma. 

If there’s something he can observe, he can mirror it to near perfection.

So, is it really that surprising to you that the front he puts up during events is just an imitation of how you act with people? That it doesn’t translate behind closed doors? That he had nothing to study and nothing to mimic once seduction progressed to the bedroom, so he let whoever he was with take the lead to try to learn from them in the moment? 

That maybe someone would use his ignorance on the subject against him?

Dazai is Dazai, you think, for the fifth time tonight. He doesn’t watch porn, he doesn’t ask people for help, and this isn’t something Mori would have ever taught him—you know that better than anyone. Mori sheltered Dazai from everything, even tried to keep you away from him; he didn’t want anything or anyone to taint the control he had over his precious Demon Prodigy. While you and Chuuya have had the chance to live, experiencing life and the outside world, Dazai’s been stuck under the watchful eye of the boss, hardly ever out of arm’s reach, caged like a circus animal to be put on display whenever Mori sees fit.  

Of course, Dazai would only see it as another way to get the job done, disregarding his own comfort and pleasure—because when does Dazai Osamu ever care for his own comfort and pleasure? He lived in a fucking shipping container until you dragged him out of it. It’s not a thought that casually crosses his mind, and he wouldn’t think twice once he thinks he has an idea of what’s going on. He doesn’t see things the way you do, was never given the opportunity to understand, taught by Mori to see things as tools and means to an end, even himself.

Dazai can see your mind racing. You know he’s going to put together that something is wrong soon if you don’t move on from this. But it’s hard—it’s a bit fucking jarring to realize that Dazai’s so overwhelmed by your touch because every other time he’s had sex, he’s probably been uncomfortable or even in pain. 

You lean down to kiss him again, halting his thoughts. You place two chaste kisses on his lips, sucking his bottom lip gently before kissing his cheek down to his jaw.

“What all have you done with people?” you ask him, sitting back on his thighs, lacing your fingers with his as you look down at him.

Instantly, his face is on fire. “What does it matter?” he demands, but you can feel his fingers tightening around yours.

You roll your eyes at his obstinateness. “Humor me,” you say dryly. “Are you usually the one leading, or is your partner? Are you the one penetrating or-”

Dazai’s grip on your hands becomes almost painful, so you quiet down, giving him an amused look. Maybe it's an awkward subject, but you want to have a vague idea of what he’s been doing before you do anything.

“... partner is,” he finally tells you, hardly looking you in the eye. It’s kind of cute. “... and only when it’s a woman, but she still takes the lead.”

“Do you want to take the lead tonight?” you ask him, running your thumb over his knuckles to try to get him to loosen his grip. 

He does, but only barely.

“Not tonight,” he says after a few moments.

“Not tonight,” you agree. “Did you prefer topping or bottoming?” 

Dazai thinks for a moment and then says, “Topping. Bottoming was…”

You force yourself not to wince, suspicions confirmed by the way he trails off.

You hum, sliding your hands up and down his bandaged sides soothingly, enjoying the way he slowly relaxes beneath your touch. “That can feel good, too,” you tell him. “I can show you that one day if you’d like.”

Dazai’s brows furrow, pointedly looking down at your clothed lower half as if trying to see through them. Your lips quirk up as he says, “But you don’t have a-”

“There are ways to work around that,” you snort, hands finally resting at his hips, drawing circles over his protruding hip bones. 

“… Not tonight,” he finally repeats.

“Not tonight,” you agree again.

You lift your hands back to his cheeks, holding his face between them as you kiss him again. You kiss him deeper this time, rolling your hips against his to make his breath hitch. You drag the tip of your tongue against the roof of his mouth—he tastes like cigarettes and faintly of whiskey. Tastes familiar. Like home.

You think you could kiss Dazai forever and never find yourself sick of it. Kissing him is like a drug, you think again. Kissing him gives you butterflies in a way that you’ve only ever experienced with him when you were sixteen, and giving him his first kiss. 

Kissing him is like coming home after being away for years. 

He kisses you back clumsily, all of the finesse he had earlier in the night long gone. His teeth nearly knock against yours, it’s a bit too wet and a bit too messy, but you think it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. You smile against his lips before pulling away to kiss the corner of his lips, nipping his skin when he lets out a shaky breath against your ear.

Your hands slide down his body to the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping beneath before you look up at him questioningly. “Can I?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.

“How else are we going to do this?” Dazai counters petulantly.

Brat, you think to yourself, a bit fondly. Thoughts race through your mind but you push them away—maybe another night. You don’t respond to him, raising your eyebrows and waiting for a verbal response.

His cheeks dust pink as he says, “Yes.”

You work quickly to unbutton his pants, patting his thigh so he lifts his hips. You trail kisses down his bandaged chest as you slide off his pants. He’s very responsive to your touch, each kiss makes his breath stutter, you can feel it in the way his chest rises and falls and it only makes you want to watch him fall apart more.

“Are the bandages okay?” Dazai asks after a few moments when you kiss down to his navel. You look up at him, brows furrowed, catching the hesitant expression on his face, dark eye trained on you. “Do you want them off?”

“Do you want them off?” you throw back at him, squinting up at him.

Dazai stares at you for a moment before he shakes his head, a strange expression on his face—you wonder if he was worried you’d ask him to take them off, wonder if his other partners made comments about it, pushed him to remove them. 

You wonder if it’s part of the reason why he avoided you for so long: he wasn’t ready for you to see him without them but thought you would ask him to take them off.

You leave it at that though, returning to kissing down to his hip bone, nipping the skin there and watching how his body jerks a bit in surprise. You let out a puff of laughter against his skin before you ease his briefs off, freeing his cock from where it was straining against the cloth—the soft ones you’d bought him when you’d found his rough, tattered ones in your washing machine a few months after he first moved into your apartment. 

You don’t usually find cocks pretty—they all mostly look the same—but Dazai’s is. Long, not too thick, his tip is flushed a pretty pink color and a vein runs along the underside. He’s leaky too, precum drips down from his tip, right along that vein and you want to taste him, so you do.

You lean in to press your lips against his length, sucking gently on the vein before kissing up to his tip. A bit too salty for your taste, probably because of his shitty diet, but you don’t mind because the pitched moan that tumbles from his lips makes up for the taste entirely. You peek up, breath catching at the sight of his head tossed back against the pillow, swollen lips parted in a pretty moan and long lashes fluttering. He looks stunning, you wish you could take a picture—maybe another night.

You think all of his previous partners have severely missed out.

“Ah,” he gasps. “Shit, shit-”

Even with just your lips wrapped around his tip, you can feel Dazai’s cock twitching in your mouth—you wonder if he’s already on the edge. You can see the way his abdomen is spasming beneath the bandages, how his fingers are curling around the soft sheets beneath him. You don’t want him to finish yet, you want him inside you when he cums, so you only spare a few chaste kisses trailing up and down his length before sitting up straight again. 

Immediately, he tosses you an accusing look. Bottom lip pushed out, cheeks flushed the same pretty pink as his tip. “Why-”

You silence him by pressing your lips against his. This kiss is lewder than your last, you push the bit of precum you’d gathered on your tongue into his mouth as you unbutton your own slacks. He makes a noise into your mouth but you don’t pull away until you feel him swallow. You smile against his lips before you pull back to slip off your own pants, watching his face twist.

“Yuck,” he says, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Tastes bad.”

“Have been telling you to start eating more fruits and vegetables,” you tell him, flicking his thigh as you shimmy out of your slacks and toss them to the side. “You don’t listen.”

The smile he tosses up at you is familiar, a welcome change from the distress and confusion that’s been plaguing him most of the night. “You’ve been thinking about what my cum tastes like for that long? Pervert.”

“More like I’ve been thinking about how high your cholesterol must be with how much canned crab and buttered bread you eat,” you say dryly, returning to where you’d been straddling his waist.

You lift your hands up, beckoning him to take them. He does, reaching up to lace his fingers with yours. A smile curves at your lips as you lean over him, pinning his hands to the mattress on either side of his head as you kiss him again. 

Your chest feels light in a way that it hardly ever does when you’re fucking someone, fluttering in the same way it was when you first kissed him two years ago. Usually when you’re sleeping with someone, it’s all about keeping up appearances. Flirty, sensual, seductive, you’re always more focused on the task at hand than you are enjoying yourself, this is… different. You mean, it always feels good—you know how to make sure it feels good for you while getting the job done—but this…

Feels like home, you think again. Being with Dazai feels like home and it scares you a bit because he’s so flighty and unpredictable but you push away the fear to kiss him harder. You have him now, that’s what matters.

“I like canned crab and buttered bread.” Dazai pouts as he mumbles against your lips.

“Shut up,” you tell him.

You feel him smile and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say so you cut him off by reaching down to position his cock at your entrance. Instantly, he chokes over a moan and your lashes flutter, feeling him slide between your folds. 

Shit, you hadn’t even realized how wet you were, too caught up in trying to make sure Dazai was feeling good, but now with the feeling of the tip of his cock pressed against your clit and his length firm against your core, your abdomen feels all hot and tight, head fuzzy.

You keep your forehead pressed to his, noses nudging, sharing the same sliver of air as you roll your hips, letting out a soft moan against his lips when his tip presses against your hole. Each breath he lets out hitches into a soft whine at the end, a glassy look to his eye. You don’t sink down on him yet, feeling how his grip on your hands tightens, how his breath becomes shuddered and his gaze becomes lidded.

You wonder maybe if he can cum just from the feeling of his tip pushing inside you—maybe another night.

“Please,” he breathes out for the second time tonight and who are you to deny him?

You don’t kiss him as you sink down on his cock, eyes fluttering shut when you feel how his cock stretches your walls—you want to hear him, hear the way he gasps, the way his breath catches, you want to hear his moans and whimpers. He tries to chase your lips but you keep them just out of reach until he gives up, fingers tightening around yours and hips jerking up.

“‘s so tight,” Dazai gasps as you rock your hips slowly against his. “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” you press, breathless. 

You distract yourself from the rapidly spreading heat by kissing his neck, letting go of one of his hands to bring it to his cheek, watching as he instinctively leans into your touch, hardly able to hold his eye open. He presses a sloppy kiss to your palm, hand coming up to hold yours to his face.

“Yeah,” he says shakily, lashes drooping and lips parting in another silent moan. “Feels…”

“Feels what?” you ask him, kissing the other side of his neck before trailing wet kisses up to his opposite cheek, feeling him shudder as you tug his earlobe.

“Right,” Dazai tells you, dark eye glazed over as he looks at you, lips wet and swollen and so entirely kissable that you can’t help yourself from leaning down to steal another from him. “Feels right.”

You wonder if Dazai feels just as at home with you as you do with him and that thought is enough to make you rock your hips. 

The noise that Dazai lets out is obscene and pornographic, pitched and breathy. You can hardly appreciate the lewd expression on his face—his hair matted to his forehead, eyes half-rolled back and lips parted in a pretty ‘o’—because the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls nearly has you tumbling over the edge.

Shit, you think to yourself, desperately trying to rein in the rapidly building pleasure. Shit, what the fuck?

You never cum this quickly—usually you have to slip your hand between the sweat slicked bodies of you and your partner to rub circles around your clit so you can bring yourself over the edge at the same time as him. You don’t think you’ve ever come from penetration alone—but the stretch of Dazai’s cock, the feeling of his tip bullying deep into your cunt, the sound of skin on skin and his pretty moans, it all goes right to your head and to your pussy, the telltale signs of your thighs tensing and your abdomen tightening warning you that you’re close already.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, voice shaky. “You’re so…”

You don’t even know what you're trying to say, mind becoming increasingly more empty of thought as you rock your hips again, setting a steady pace. Dazai chokes over air beneath you, the hand still intertwined with yours squeezing hard while the other one drops from the hand you have on his face to claw the bed sheets.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his moans are becoming louder and lewder, the way his head falls to the side, face half pressed into the pillow, eyes knocked back, body arched. Dazai’s already so gone that you think any second he’ll cum deep inside of you and that thought alone makes your body shudder. 

You grab the hand clawing at the bed sheets, guiding it between your bodies as you bounce on his cock. You can feel his hazy gaze trying to figure out what you’re doing but you’re more focused on guiding his finger to rub circles around your clit.

As soon as the pressure is placed on the sensitive nub, your hips are stuttering and a gasp is tearing from your lips. Dazai’s choking when he feels your walls spasm around him, hips thrusting up erratically to meet each of your rocks, but he’s just barely coherent enough to keep his finger rubbing circles on your clit.

Your breath becomes heavy and shaky, the pace of your hips quickening, fire spreads through you so rapidly that it’s impossible to control.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp when you feel yourself tipping over the edge, eyes trying to focus on Dazai’s face and the sight you’re met with is enough to push you over the edge.

Dazai’s jaw is slack, drool pooling at the corner of his lips, the white of his eye just barely visible, cheeks flushed a deep red. He's babbling out incoherent words: you can just barely make out your name, s’good, too tight, too much, and I’m gonna-

And then you’re choking over your own moan when you feel Dazai finish inside of you, cum warm and heavy as he fucks it deep in your cunt. His lithe body trembles beneath you, tense and arched, holding your hand so tight that you think he might break it, and your vision goes white as you cum on his cock, mind blank when the taut cord snaps within you, nails digging into Dazai’s skin.

Dazai’s cock is still twitching inside of you when you slump onto his chest, tremors still spreading through his body. You tilt your head up to ghost your lips against his jaw before sliding off of him, laying on the bed next to him. You feel empty without him inside you but you distract yourself by lifting your hand to his cheek again, tilting it to the side and forcing him to look at you.

More emotion swims in Dazai’s eye than you’ve seen him express in the entire two years you’ve known him, he looks at you so reverently that you can almost imagine three words spilling from his lips, breathy and adoring. You know he won’t say them, but it’s a nice thought, you think. You lean in to ghost your lips against his briefly, the tips of your fingers carding through his dark curls. You want to say something but you don’t know what.

Well. You do know what but you can’t say it.

“You wanted me soooooo bad,” Dazai finally says, a bit more clarity returning to his eye as his lips curl up. “I knew it, you wanted me so bad.”

“You’re so annoying,” you tell him but your voice is fond and you can’t help yourself from shifting forward to press your lips against his. You feel him smile against your lips and that warm, fluttery feeling returns.

Home. 

“You love it,” Dazai sings, nipping your cheek. 

A bit longingly, you think, I do.

Instead, you roll on top of him to straddle his hips, pressing your lips against his again. 

“You wish.”

[hyperfixat]

hehe here's this 2k brain rot that @suiana's post gave me (permission proof - not a thief!)

i turned caelus into a they them not sorry. also if the formatting is odd, i’m on my pc and i usually use my phone so.

They’re back.  Again.  

March has to stifle the screams of anger she wants to let out as the shackles of stillness finally free her.  Like ice melting Caelus and Dan Heng begin to move around, continuing where they had left them stranded and abandoned, left to stay stagnant at their whim. 

The worse thing is that she can’t even complain, not for lack of desire to do so, no, no she physically cannot voice her complaints.  And March knows she isn't crazy, she’s caught the twinge of annoyance in Welt’s eyes when he unpaused; seen the ghost of a scowl on Seele’s face; even the carefully controlled hardened gaze of Dan Heng has cracked before.

The Trailblazer is the only one who hasn’t cracked, obediently stopping when they will them to do so, and ever so happy to come back at their will.  March wants to corner them and ask how and why, if they know what's going on, but alas: she must trot along with her friends at their wicked will.

Dan Heng doesn't know what you are, because surely you can’t be an Aeon.  Aeons don’t hold the powers you do, even if they did surely there would be some record of you in the archives, right?  No Aeon dead or alive has the ability to puppeteer humans, and it frightens him that there is something out there that is using him in such a way.�� It embitters him, both the unknown surrounding them and the way he is treated; how his whole world is put on a pause while he remains aware.  Aware of how the breeze stills and the stars stop twinkling, how the world goes silent.  What could hold such power? 

A shudder runs down his spine as he follows the Trailblazer’s party.

Welt has witnessed a lot in his time.  Nothing quite like them, though.

Himeko has witnessed a lot in her time.  Nothing quite like them, though.

Bronya, Seele, Sampo, and Natasha have witnessed a lot in their time.  Nothing quite like them, though.

Yukong, Loucha, Fu Xuan, and Jing Yuan have witnessed a lot in their time.  Nothing quite like them, though.

Kafka, Blade, and Silver Wolf have witnessed a lot in their time.  Nothing quite like them, though.

The different paths they all walk may intervene, as their personalities and beliefs may differ but there is one truth they can all agree on.

They hate you.

Caelus doesn’t.  Rather, Caelus can’t help but love you; you gave them life and led them through their trials.  You keep them safe and armored. You help them find the words to face others when their mind goes blank. 

To Caelus you are the world.

The Aeons came to know of you when Dan Heng’s frantic searches focused on them for a little too long.  While he was scanning the records they saw you.  You were intriguing from the get go, a pretty thing, sitting comfortably as a figure in the sky. The Preservation and The Nihility, whose current forms allow for more ease with floating went as far as they could to reach you.

Yet you remain just out of reach of the Aeons.

The Abundance uses one of her many arms to steady herself as she crawls along the very fabrics of their reality to get a closer look at you.  And what a darling thing you are!  Excitement that she hasn’t felt in a long, long time, perhaps for the first time ever fills her up inside.  With a shaky hand, she motions for the other Aeons to take a closer look at you.

From there the… shall we say, worship, began.

Nanook, The Destruction, takes note of your fondness for certain characters, and what his darling likes, he likes, so when the Antimatter Legion he has blessed come across the ones you are fond of, their attacks are lighter and they lose his blessing temporarily.  Sure, he wished some of the gushing from beyond the sky was for him, but you so rarely see his face on the screen (only ever in the Simulated Universe you put that Caelus through) he can’t blame you.

IX, The Nihility, will not change in their ways, not even someone like you can shift the nihilism they embody, but, perhaps you don’t notice it, your teams deal better damage over time, don’t they?  Don’t take their blessings lightly, it took a lot to bring them there.

Yaoshi, perhaps makes it the most obvious (despite you never noticing), your favorite vessels get a wonderfully boosted health bar.  You never knew to question how Blade managed to get nine thousand hit points.

It’s hard to pinpoint who thought of it first, perhaps IX or Fuli, but the Aeons, the strongest Aeons, gathered to pull you down from beyond the sky.  Through a (top secret) ritual you find yourself being hurtled down like a meteor into the freezing snow of the Outlying Snow Plains. 

…

You wake to the kind face of Caelus, which is a bit odd because he’s not supposed to be so… high res.  Or real.

“Are you alright, My Lord?”  The title doesn’t immediately resonate with you, so you disregard hearing it.  When you don’t answer right away they frown in worry, hands moving to yours, gently covering them with their warmth.

“What happened?  Why am I here?”

“You fell from the sky, do you not remember?”

“No,” what sky would you have fallen from?  You tend to stay on the ground.

Caelus worries their bottom lip and helps you sit up.  “Oh.”  There’s a pause.  “Did you not mean to come here? I thought….”

“Hm?” You prod, gently encouraging them to talk.

“I thought you were coming to see me,” their face is tinged pink and facing down in their lap.  Caelus’ hands feel hot and you rush to reassure them.

“I’m glad to see you, but I don’t know how or why I’m here,” you pause, cringing internally.  “Caelus.”  Fuck, that is their name right?  No last minute changes?

Luckily their face lights up when you say it and you find yourself pressed into their soft chest, their arms around you in a bear hug. 

“You’re really them.”  A breathy, ecstatic phrase.  Their face buries into your hair and Caelus doesn’t loosen their hold until a knock at their door.

“Trailblazer!  Pompom here, requesting an update on Their Grace’s status.”  

Caelus gently detaches themself from you and opens the door to reveal the tiny rabbit-oid conductor.  Pompom bashfully rubs their hands together when they catch sight of you awake and looking at them.

“Hello, Your Grace, Pompom is glad to see you awake and healthy.”  

What a cute creature, you think.  “Thank you, Conductor Pompom.”

They let out a squeak at your words and nod.  “Pompom needs to go check in on the other passengers, but let Pompom know if you need anything, okay, Your Grace?”

“Oh, thank you Pompom.”  They hurry away, stubby feet padding quickly down the carpeted halls.  You turn your head to Caelus, “what was that about?”

“Hm?”  Their golden eyes meet yours, head tilting.

“Why did they call me those things, Your Grace?”  

“Because you are our God above Aeons.  Do you… were you somehow unaware of that?”

The words hit you like a freight train.  “No, I’m not.”  It’s all you can think to say.

Caelus sits next to you on the bed, placing a hand on your knee.  “Yes you are.  We can feel it.  You are the one that controls this world and gives us life.”

Controls this world… and gives them life… fuck, the game… you’ve been playing these sentient beings.  Your tummy hurts at the knowledge . 

“Oh, I’m— I’m sorry.”  Your eyes prick with tears, the gravity of what you’ve been doing; how you’ve dragged these people into battles for fun.  You couldn’t have know, but it doesn’t stop the guilt eating at you.

“No, no, what are you apologizing for?”  Caelus’ hands cup your face, a finger catching the tears that drip over the brim of your waterline.  Their voice drops to a whisper, “please don’t cry, My Lord.”

You suddenly feel very watched, like a million eyes are on you.  Caelus never closed his door.  You look up and catch sight of March 7th’s glare.  The intensity of it makes you flinch back, making Caelus look up, over to:

“March, don’t give them that look.”  They scold the girl, who turns the withering look to them.

“Why are you taking care of that monster?  We told you to leave them to freeze in the snow.”  The words make your heart sink.  Being on this side of such venomous words stings, especially from someone you never would have pegged to be so hateful.

Caelus bares thier teeth, a mix of offense and hurt on their face.  “And I told you I would do no such thing to our God.”

“That is no God.”  Her voice shakes as does her head, before turning around and walking away.

“Don’t listen to her.” Caelus shakes their head in disappointment. “She doesn’t understand what all you do for us.  Please don’t hold it against her.”

…

They, the Astral Express, do not like you.  Caelus and Pompom do, they hold you in reverence, which is better than how March, Himeko, Welt, and Dan Heng treat you.  It’s all dirty looks and only partially veiled insults.  Caelus gets into arguments with them over you.  

You hate to think that you’re harming the friendships between them, and when you brought your concern up, Caelus dismissed you saying you are worth it all.  

Yeah, there’s that.  You’ve tried to explain that you are not God, but they won’t hear you out.  :(

It’s a perfectly normal day on the Astral Express when the Aeons come. 

Nanook is the first one to descend into the Parlor Car; Caelus and Dan Heng immediately drawing their weapons, The Destruction laughs once, eyes moving to focus solely on you.

“It’s so good to see you, My darling Lord.”  His voice is low and deep, and the gold flowing freely from the wounds (?) on his arms leaves a trail on the carpet as he approaches to kneel in front of you.  From your peripheral you see Dan Heng and Caelus share a look before lowering their respective weapons.

Nanook, you recognize him from the Simulated Universe blessings screen, grabs your hand, gracing the back of your palm with a chaste kiss.  His golden eyes peek up at you from behind long lashes.

“How has the Express been treating you?  I regret not being able to welcome you to this existence, but alas the ritual took a lot out of us…”

What.

“Oh, uh,” your eyes flicker around the cabin nervously.  “I’m doing alright, th-thanks…”

“Now, now, don’t tease the poor thing,” a beautiful woman (Aeon) walks in, one with many, many arms draped in soft looking, white cloth.  Yaoshi’s eyes soften when she meets your gaze.  “Hello, Your Grace, it’s an honor to meet you in the flesh.”

Caelus, Dan Heng, March, everyones’ (save for you and the two Aeons) bodies droop, posture faltering.  IX, The Nihility, has arrived.  An odd feeling, akin to that of a weighted blanket, is pushed onto your body.  It’s them, their astral, cosmic form much smaller than what should be made of their status, laying on your body like a boa.  They don’t speak, though you aren’t  sure they could in this form.

Yaoshi’s eyes flicker with amusement, and Nanook pulls himself up.  “The others were unable to make it, but,” her gaze chills and is directed at the crew of the Express.  “We all wish to make it known that disrespect, anything short of reverence toward Our Grace, will not be tolerated.”

Welt visibly shudders at the threat, and Himeko shares a look with Dan Heng.  They need to reflect on how they feel towards you, tha much is certain.

[cusimmrbrightside]

I have always liked the idea of the school for mutants being very literally a school, and I know yes it is but I mean in the sense of if you want to be an X-men, you have to be a teacher. They have exams at the end of years, they have Ofsted checks (for those who don’t know what they are, it’s essentially people coming to check that the school is good at being a school) and they have teachers for every subject, which brings me to my next point;

“I’m Right You’re Wrong, Here’s What The X-Men (‘97 specifically) Would Teach As Subjects”.

(Also this is based off of UK school system but I use American terms like “seniors” and “AP” and “Midterms”)

Maths Teacher Gambit is surprising, for a guy most assume to not being entirely smart, an idiot goof off who’s the comedic relief. But you need to know numbers to gamble, and that he does with being very well versed in mathematics way past an AP level. He’s made the promise for every senior class that he will teach them to play blackjack on the final day, and has only ever lost once. Which is when the rule of “no betting real money” came into place.

English teacher Jean reminds me of the kind of teacher who would let the social outcasts into her class for their lunch breaks. The kids more likely to be bullied and she will fight tooth and nail to make sure those kids bullies don’t come into that classroom. they’re loud and shout and shouldn’t really be in there but no one has to know and she certainly won’t be telling them to leave any time soon.

Physics teacher Magneto is very specific to my highschool experience I’ll be honest. I had a physics teacher who was an actual Dr with a PHD and he hated being there. His classroom has (well, had since the building was knocked down about 5 years ago now) this one cabinet that was never fully shut, it was always open just about an inch or two, and he’d stand with his foot hovering just above it and then slam down on it whenever we got too loud so the noise would shut us up. That’s very magneto coded. Erik Lehnsherr would purposefully make the cabinet always a little open so he can do that.

Biology teacher morph is just a funny concept, a person whose physical form and change and morph into just about anything. They are considered one of the “fun” teachers, you could easily convince them to let you watch a movie all class as long as it was biology centred, but with classics like Osmosis Jones, you’re not stuck watching a documentary about animals giving birth.

Chemistry teacher Storm does not fuck about with children’s education. She is not strict by any means whatsoever, she just will not bend to someone saying they want to watch a film or should do a practical instead of theory. She has a set curriculum. She knows what she will be doing by the first week of the summer holidays and already has the room set up all pretty and organised.

Geography teacher Scott has the unfortunate job of telling his students that, they just won’t be looking at memorising country flags and politics. But hey!! Rocks are cool!! Beach shores are cool! Lake formations are cool! He’s the vice principal and designated nerd teacher. He once beat the elite four for a student on their copy of Pokémon Red because the student promised they’d do well in their midterms. Yes, he was in his 30s when the game came out, he doesn’t care.

History teacher Logan is a walking fun facts book. He’s exhausted, goes on smoke breaks on every gap of time he has, dislikes his job and will randomly get passionate about one specific topic, and will then dedicate his next 4 classes to that topic. Having been through a lot of modern history with personal experiences, he’s able to bring a lot of souvenirs to show his classes. Bullets, helmets, clothes he once wore hundreds of years ago, his personal memories of basic inventions like the vaccine.

PE (physical education) teacher Rogue is full of fun sports games, you can join any kind of sports team you can imagine and if you ask nicely enough, she’ll put Just Dance on a projector in the sports hall so you can just play that instead of actually play an actual sport. As long as you leave her class exhausted and without time to have a shower before your next class then she’s succeeded in making whoever your next teacher is absolutely miserable (bonus points if it’s Logan with his enhanced sense of smell).

Art teacher jubilee does believe that there is a right way to critique art. And she can be a little in your face about it. She does think you can have wrong opinions especially when it comes to your own art. If she overhears you saying you didn’t something wrong, she’ll scream into a megaphone “adapt, improvise, overcome!”. There are no mistakes! She’s eccentric, bubbly, creative and brilliant, the only one suited for the job.

It wouldn’t be a school without budget cuts. That’s why Nightcrawler is both the languages and religions teacher and he’s beloved at both. He comes up with roleplay scenarios the students can play to help learn their chosen languages, he has varied religious texts in his room and when he says to the students “I’ll pray for toy during exam season” he’s not actually joking.

(I forgot about Hank I’m actually going to cry he’s one of my favourites and I forgot about him. He’ll be in pt two or smth.)

[forest-hashira]

Bunnies & Bite Marks

i was able to hop onto @lorelune's spring fever a/b/o event super last minute last night, so this is my entry for that! (technically i did finish this fic before midnight but i didn't have the energy to format it then, so it's going up now, haha). i apologize in advance bc this is definitely the filthiest thing i've ever written. i don't know where most of this came from (i think the boys possessed me and ghostwrote it tbh). i was enabled by aleks to put this on paper, so... thank him lol

read on ao3 here | wc: ~8.1k | cw: a/b/o dynamics/omegaverse, hybrid au (fox geto, bunny reader, bunny gojo), gn afab!reader (afab anatomy terms used), alpha geto, omega reader, omega gojo, established stsg, oral sex (reader receiving), threesome, multiple orgasms, knotting, biting/claiming, mating bonds, intersex omega (gojo has a penis & a vagina), unprotected sex, creampies, gojo has a praise kink & a degradation kink, a little bit of voyeurism, multiple discussions of consent, i'm pretty sure that's everything! 18+ only, ageless/blank blogs & minors dni.

You were still trying to figure out how you’d ended up in this situation.

Growing up, your parents had warned you countless times about Big Bad Wolves, told you to watch out for their pointed lies and pointier teeth, but they’d never warned you about foxes and their silver tongues.

Now that you thought about it, your parents were probably being more metaphoric than you thought as a child, but it was a little late to come to that realization, seeing as you were already underneath a particularly sly fox and completely at his mercy.

But how were you supposed to not trust him, not fall for him? His dark eyes were so kind, his little smile so warm… and he’d had another bunny hanging off of him, inviting you to spend time with them, to get to know them. And somehow in just a few short months, you were coaxed into bed by that same welcoming bunny and kind fox.

A small tug at your ear brought you back to the present, and you blinked, looking up into those dark eyes, now a few shades darker with desire – hunger, your instincts told you, making your heart pound even faster in your ribcage.

“Where’d you go, little one? You left us for a second there.” Suguru’s voice was low and rumbling, but you could hear the genuine concern woven in with the lust that laced his tone.

“They zoned out because you’re taking so damn long,” Satoru retorted from behind you before you had a chance to say anything. He hugged you a bit closer to his chest, trailing his lips across your cheek as he murmured, “Maybe we’ll just have to start without him, hm? Who needs an alpha, anyways? They're just knotheads, after all.”

Despite his bravado, you could feel the way your fellow bunny’s heart rate picked up as you both watched Suguru for his reaction.

To his credit, Suguru’s composure was nearly unshakeable; the only outward reaction to Satoru’s half-threat was a slight twitch of one of his elegant black fox ears, and he cocked his head slightly. “Is that so?” he questioned, then looked away from Satoru to focus on you. “You can believe him if you want, little one, because I know you’ve never been with an alpha before, but you should know he doesn’t even believe that himself. You should hear the way he begs for my knot like a cheap whore, even when he’s not in heat.”

Satoru shuddered behind you, and a soft puff of air ghosted across your skin as his grip tightened further around your waist. You’d known he was aroused before he held you so tight, but now it was undeniable, his hard cock pressed against your back, and the size of it made you jump slightly; if he was that big as an omega, then what the fuck was Suguru hiding in his pants? You shuddered at the thought, and you couldn’t stop the hint of fear that tinged your scent.

Both men stopped then, detecting the change in your scent. They exchanged a glance, and Suguru’s entire demeanor softened as he spoke again, lowering himself so he no longer towered over you where you sat on the bed with Satoru. “Do you want to stop?” he asked quietly, tilting his head slightly. “We don’t have to go through with this if you’re not comfortable.”

“We won’t be upset,” Satoru added, lightly rubbing his thumb back and forth across your stomach in an attempt to soothe you. “If you’re not enjoying yourself, we’ll stop. Your comfort and pleasure are really important to us.” 

Though you knew they were expecting an answer, you could tell they would be patient with you, even if it took you hours to decide one way or the other. You hesitated, taking a few moments to really examine how you were feeling, both physically and emotionally. The fear you felt was undeniable, but it was strongly rivaled by your desire, your prey instincts warring with your human wants. 

And really, you knew you were safe with them, even if Suguru was a predator. His self control was stronger than anyone else you’d ever met, and even if he somehow did lose control of himself and begin to succumb to his instincts, you were certain Satoru would do everything he could to protect you; he was stubborn and aggressive, especially for an omega, and a prey animal hybrid on top of that. 

Feeling comforted by that knowledge, you once again met the alpha’s gaze. “I want this,” you confirmed. “I want you – both of you.” 

Almost before the words were fully out of your mouth, the smell of arousal grew thick in the air, so heavy it should have choked you, but really you couldn’t get enough of it. Suguru’s was more potent, but it just made his scent a little smokier. Satoru’s, on the other hand, was sharp, a burst of cinnamon against the syrupy sweetness of his usual scent. Everything combined was so heady, so overwhelming in the best way possible, that your eyes fluttered shut, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning out loud.

“Ah-ah, none of that,” Suguru chided, reaching up and squishing your cheeks together slightly until your bottom lip was no longer caught between your teeth. 

Your eyes opened again at the touch, your pupils blown wide as you gazed down at the alpha in front of you.

“We want to hear you, little one. How else are we supposed to know if we’re making you feel good?”

“Sugu likes it noisy,” Satoru added, leaning in to whisper in your ear. He trailed one hand down your stomach to your thigh, rubbing little circles on the soft flesh of your inner thigh with his thumb as he spoke. “You’ll see soon enough, but he’s a talker… loves when I talk, too. Loves when he fucks me dumb and all I can do is moan and whine and whimper, all because of him…”

Though the other bunny was speaking to you, both of you had your eyes locked on the fox, all of you waiting for someone else to move first. Your heart pounded in time with Satoru’s, your bodies finding an odd, instinctual sort of comfort in each other; two prey hybrids against one predator.

Said predator’s gaze was still locked on yours, his lips curling into a hungry smirk, now that he knew that you wanted him – wanted them – just as bad as they wanted you. He shrugged slightly at Satoru’s words, and he pushed himself up from where he’d knelt on the floor in front of you, once again towering over you. 

“Since you were so quick to insist that you didn’t need me,” he cooed, taking a step back from the bed. “Why don’t you two get started, hm? Get them ready for me, pretty boy.”

Before you even had time to fully process the alpha’s words, Satoru was moaning in your ear, then practically dragging you further up the bed with him. 

A rather undignified squeak of surprise escaped you at the movement, but you were too taken aback to try and fight it at all. Next thing you knew, you were on your back, staring up at Satoru with wide eyes. 

“You ready?” he asked, eyes glinting as he stared down at you.

“I, uh… ready for what, exactly?” You felt your cheeks burn with both arousal and embarrassment, your brain already feeling a little unfocused, and they hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Sex, duh,” he replied, but he couldn’t quite stifle the giggle that accompanied his words. The sound helped relax you a bit, and you smiled up at him.

“I’m pretty sure we’re wearing too many clothes to have sex,” you told him, a soft laugh escaping you, and he grinned, winking playfully at you.

“That we are, little bunny,” he agreed, tugging lightly on your ear. “But I’m gonna take care of that right now, don’t you worry.”

You wrinkled your nose at him, and it twitched a bit, the movement involuntary. Pulling your ear from his hold, you frowned up at him. “You’re a bunny too, y’know.”

“Ah, yes, good catch! I, however, am not small, in any sense of the word. So you’re my little bunny.” His smile sharpened into a smirk, and the sight, combined with the implications of his words and the outline of cock that had been pressed against you mere moments before, had heat stirring in your belly. 

When you offered no further comments of protests, Satoru got to work ridding you of your clothes, so quickly you were worried he might tear them in his haste to have you naked beneath him. By the time he reached your bra, though, you batted his hands away.

“I’ll do this part, if you ruin this I’ll be very upset with you.” The bra wasn’t anything especially fancy, but you still took care of it as best you could, because you liked the way it made you look. “Besides,” you added, reaching around to undo the clasps. “Don’t you also have to be naked for us to have sex?”

Satoru pulled his shirt over his head as you spoke, and he huffed quietly when it got stuck on his ears for a moment. He smirked at you again afterwards, though. “Hmm, not necessarily, no. But I’ll be nice and get naked anyways.”

You rolled your eyes at his words as you tossed your bra off to the side, presumably in the direction all your other clothes had ended up. As you settled back against the pillows, you went to cross your arms over your chest out of habit, but stopped when you caught Suguru staring at you. He said nothing, but his meaning was clear: there would be no hiding from either of them tonight, or ever. You were theirs now.

In just a few seconds, though, your view of the fox was interrupted by your fellow bunny, who looked like he was ready to go all night with you and completely ignore his partner sitting in the chair across the room. “Lay back and spread your legs for me,” he encouraged. “I’m dying to taste that pretty little pussy of yours.”

His words came as a shock, and you felt your face burning all over again. “You don’t, uh. I mean, you don’t have to do that. Really.” You pressed your knees together as you spoke, unsure how to proceed. None of your former partners had ever expressed interest in going down on you, so you weren’t sure if Satoru felt obligated to do this, or what, but you didn’t expect him to frown at you.

“I know I don’t have to,” he confirmed. “But I want to. Like I really want to, if you’re comfortable with that.”

All you could do for a few long moments was stare at him, as if waiting for him to laugh at any second, for him to tease you for falling for such a silly prank, but he never did. His eyes were focused on your face, though they were now more black than blue because of how dilated they were.

“You can tell him no, little one,” Suguru assured from his seat across the room. “You’re calling the shots here. If you say no, it doesn’t happen.”

Once again comforted by his words – and baffled that you had so much control over this situation – you let out a soft, trembling breath, before looking back to Satoru. “If you really want to…” you agreed quietly, hesitating a moment longer before you complied with his earlier request, leaning back against the pillows and spreading your legs.

“I really do,” Satoru confirmed yet again, and as you spread your legs, his gaze instantly dropped to his prize. He was quick to settle down on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs once he was eye-level with your cunt. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re dripping for us already.” He sounded almost in awe of you and your body as he spoke, and if his hold on your thighs had been any less sure, you would have slammed your legs shut again. As it was, you squirmed uselessly in his hold, face burning in embarrassment.

“Stop staring,” you whined, hoping you didn’t sound as flustered as you felt. “If you’re gonna use your mouth on me then get started already.” The attempted scowl on your face vanished as he bit down on the plush of your thigh, and you yelped. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Isn’t it?”

“Satoru,” Suguru chastised, and both of you froze at his tone. “Don’t be mean to them. Do what you promised, or I’ll have to punish you.”

Satoru’s ears dropped at the mention of a possible punishment, and he nodded slightly. “Yes, alpha,” he said, then pressed a gentle kiss to the spot he had bitten. “Sorry, little bunny,” he apologized quietly, holding your gaze as he spoke.

Still feeling a little baffled by how quickly Satoru had obeyed Suguru, you simply nodded your forgiveness.

He seemed to relax a bit then, and he dropped his gaze once again. His intense focus on such an intimate part of you had you feeling beyond flustered, so you leaned your head back into the pillows, staring intensely at the ceiling. You could feel his hot breath against your slick soaked skin, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what he was waiting for.

“It’s not very polite not to look at someone when they’re pleasuring you, little one.” Suguru’s voice had a teasing lilt to it, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely kidding.

Is that seriously what’s stopping him? you thought to yourself, but you didn’t say the words out loud. Instead, you replied, in a voice much smaller than you expected, “I can’t look at him.”

“Why not? Is something wrong?”

“No? I-I don’t… I don’t know,” you stammered. “Nobody’s ever gone down on me before. I can’t look at him while he does it.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

“Can you look at me instead?”

That caught your attention. You lifted your head from the pillow once again, though this time you focused on the alpha across the room, rather than the omega between your legs. This is manageable.

“Hmm, there you are,” the fox hummed, giving you an encouraging smile. “Better?”

“Much,” you agreed quietly, and you were surprised to find that meeting his gaze was exactly the thing you needed to ground you.

“Good, I’m glad. You can start now, Satoru.”

The first swipe of his tongue up your folds had your whole body trying to jerk away from the touch, though the movement was involuntary. It didn’t feel bad – in fact it felt good, really good, as he pressed in closer, his tongue exploring places even your fingers had rarely touched. When he moaned against you, your head dropped backwards at the intensity of the feeling.

“Ah ah, little one.”

Suguru’s voice had Satoru stopping his movements, despite the fact that he wasn’t the one being spoken to. You whined pathetically as his tongue pulled away from you, and you couldn’t help but pout.

“Eyes on me,” Suguru continued, the words clearly directed at you, “or you don’t get to cum yet.”

Instantly your head shot up, and you stared at the alpha wide-eyed, breathing a little heavier than you had been before.

His expression was smug once you met his gaze, and even if you hadn’t been able to see his smirk, you would’ve been able to hear it in his voice. “Very good,” he praised.

With the confirmation that you were doing as you were told, Satoru was quick to get back to work, moaning into your skin as he licked up your slick. Some part of your brain was insisting that no omega should enjoy the taste of another omega’s slick, but Satoru had never been what an omega should be, so you shoved the thought aside.

Just as you pushed the thought from your mind, the bunny between your legs wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. It felt as if all the air had been sucked from your lungs, and your thighs clenched around his head, though that only made him moan louder into you.

Somehow, you managed to keep your eyes open and locked on Suguru, even if your vision was a little fuzzy around the edges. When he spoke to you again, though, it took a bit more focus to really hear him.

“You can touch him, you know.”

“Wh— oh my god — what do you mean?”

A small chuckle escaped him, and he tilted his head slightly as he gazed at you. “You can touch Satoru, if you want to. You won’t get in trouble, or anything like that. In fact,” he glanced down at the other bunny’s fluffy white head, “I can confidently say he wants you to touch him. Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

“Please,” Satoru whimpered, barely pulling away from your cunt long enough to speak, and he was quick to dive back in, this time working his tongue into you.

You weren’t sure what the noise you made was, but you didn’t really care; all you could focus on was the feeling of his hot, wet tongue working you open. Without even thinking about it, your hands flew from the bedsheets to his hair, tangling the strands between your fingers and pulling, much harder than you’d intended to. There was no room for you to even attempt an apology, though, because the sensation had him moaning louder than before, and he rutted his hips down into the mattress.

“Told you,” Suguru chuckled, but neither of you really heard him, too lost in the way Satoru had his mouth on you, licking up your slick like he’d die without it.

When the other omega pulled his mouth away from you, you whimpered, dropping your gaze from Suguru’s to Satoru’s. Before you could form any sort of complaint, though, you watched as he released his hold on one of your thighs and pushed one of his long fingers into you.

Your brain short circuited at the sight, and you let out a strangled moan, unable to tear your eyes away from his hand. He worked you open carefully, first with one finger, then with two, and before you knew it he was curling three fingers into your sweet spot, the pleasure of it so intense you were nearly cross eyed, especially with the way he was still sucking on your clit. 

“I told you to get them ready for me, didn’t I, pretty boy?”

“Yes,” Satoru answered instantly, the word muffled against your skin; the vibrations of it had you moaning quietly.

“And do you think your fingers are going to be enough for that?” His voice was a little darker than before. Not scary or overtly predatory, just… more intense, more focused; hungrier.

“N-no, alpha,” Satoru panted, thrusting his fingers faster, panting heavily into your pussy. “Want to taste them first, please? Wanna make them cum all over my face…”

There was a pause, somewhat tense as both you and your fellow bunny waited for the fox’s answer.

“Well, when you ask so nicely,” he practically purred. “Go ahead, Satoru. Make a mess out of them.”

That was all the permission Satoru needed. He latched onto your clit once again, alternating between sucking and tracing patterns against it with his tongue, his fingers abusing your sweet spot until you were seeing stars.

You barely recognized the scream that tore its way out of you as your own voice, too busy thrashing in his hold, thighs clamping down around his head once again. You gushed slick everywhere – all over his fingers, all over his mouth, all over the sheets – until everything was wet and almost sticky with it. 

Though you had no memory of closing your eyes, it wasn’t long before you heard Suguru’s voice, now much closer than before, gently calling your name, asking you to open your eyes for him. Eventually you managed to comply, slowly fluttering your eyes open to look up at the fox.

“There you are,” Suguru praised quietly. “Pretty boy really did a number on you, huh?” He brushed your hair out of your eyes as he spoke, and you weren’t really sure if he expected you to answer him or not. You stayed silent, more focused on catching your breath and coming down from the most mind blowing orgasm of your life, and your silence didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“What about you, pretty boy. How’re you feeling?” You managed to follow the alpha’s gaze – albeit a bit sluggishly – as he turned his attention from you to the other omega, and what you saw had your face burning all over again.

The lower half of Satoru’s face was absolutely drenched in your slick, and you could see how it was beginning to run down his chin and jaw to his neck. His hand wasn’t any better off, either: there was slick coating him well past his wrist. You were mildly horrified that you’d done that to him, but it was clear by the look on his face that he was thrilled that you’d made such a mess of him. “Feelin’ really good,” he answered, a dopey grin on his face as he sat up. The bunny leaned over you a bit then, getting as close to the fox as he could without actually moving from his spot kneeling between your legs. “Wanna taste?”

Suguru smirked slightly at Satoru’s question. “Of course I do,” he replied. Then, he reached out, lightly threading his fingers through the hair on the back of Satoru’s head, pulling him into a messy, heated kiss; a kiss that he absolutely dominated, without any sort of protest from the other man.

As you watched them, still somewhat dazed, you realized that, at some point between getting up from his seat across the room and joining the two of you on the bed, Suguru had stripped himself of his clothes, leaving him just as bare as the two bunnies waiting for him. There was a part of you insisting on looking down, on getting a good look at his cock while you could, but you were too caught up watching the two men kiss.

Some time later – minutes or hours, you weren’t sure – they broke apart, both of them panting against each other. “Delicious,” Suguru murmured after a moment, licking the last vestiges of your slick from around his mouth. “I’ll have to get a taste first hand next time, but for now, pretty boy, you need to finish preparing them for me.”

Satoru nodded obediently, though a soft squeak escaped him as the other man reached around and tugged lightly on his tail, just to tease him a bit. The bunny huffed indignantly, but the effect of his reaction was lost when you saw that his pupils were still blown wide and his eyes were still slightly glassy as he focused on you.

“You ready for more?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at you. “Or do you need more time to catch your breath?” As he spoke, he reached down and began to stroke himself with the hand still coated with your slick, his breath stuttering a bit at the touch.

Thankfully you had managed to catch your breath by this point, and you nodded dumbly for a moment. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you confirmed, sounding more steady than you had expected, given your brain was still catching up to your body. 

“Thank god,” Satoru sighed, then shuffled into a better position, hovering over you and propping himself up on the hand not currently occupied. “I’ll be careful,” he promised, his voice gentle and sweet. 

You nodded again, trusting him to keep his word, and spread your legs a bit wider to better accommodate him. A gasp flew from your lips as he lined up with your entrance and slowly began to push forward. You’d known he wasn’t small, but feeling the outline of his cock against your back was not the same thing as feeling it pushing its way into your body. Your hands shot up to his shoulders, nails digging into the pale skin there as he slowly filled you, inch by impossible inch. 

When you felt his hips finally meet yours, you both let out a shaky moan, and he dropped his forehead to yours for a moment, now propping himself up on his elbows so he wasn’t fully crushing you into the bed.

“Can I have a kiss?” he asked quietly after a few moments, and the question caught you a bit off guard, especially since he seemed a little nervous to ask.

Pushing on his chest a bit so you could get a proper look at him, you scanned his face to figure out what, exactly, his goal was, but all you found in his expression was earnestness and hope, and the tiniest hint of worry. “...Yeah,” you agreed after a moment. “Yeah, you can have a kiss.”

The little grin that tugged at his lips was more adorable than it had any right to be while he was buried balls deep in you, but you found yourself smiling back anyways, allowing your eyes to slip shut for a moment as your lips made contact.

Though the kiss started as a soft, chaste press of lips, it quickly devolved into deep, sloppy kisses, barely enough time to breathe in between each kiss. Your ability to breathe was well and truly stolen for a moment as Satoru began to move, gently rocking his hips up into you at first, then eventually beginning to properly thrush, pulling out a bit before pushing back into you again.

Each movement had you panting and moaning beneath him, one hand still gripping his shoulder as the other trailed up his neck to tangle in his hair. “Ho— o-oohhh — h-how is this preparing me for Suguru?” you asked, doing your best to focus on the omega above you, despite how good he was making you feel.

“He’s bigger than I am,” Satoru answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He noticed the way you tensed slightly and shuddered at his words, and he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay,” he soothed, and you could hear a quiet purr rumbling in his chest as he spoke. “That’s what this is for, ‘kay? I keep making you feel good, make sure you’re nice and ready for our alpha when it’s his turn.”

Apparently still able to scent your apprehension, the bunny pressed a few more soft kisses down the side of your face, still purring quietly all the while. “It’s ok if you don’t think you can take him,” he murmured. “If you need to tap out after me, that won’t hurt his feelings. He’s gonna fuck me either way. After you and I are done you can participate as much or as little as you’d like, little bunny. Whatever you say, goes.”

Something about the tenderness underlying his words, and the sweet way he called you “little bunny” had you practically melting beneath him. “Okay,” you murmured, turning your head to catch his lip in another soft kiss, letting the touch linger longer than was strictly necessary, simply enjoying the intimacy while you could.

“Satoru?”

“Yes, bunny?”

“I appreciate how gentle you’re being with me right now, but my guess is Suguru won’t be as gentle.”

A small laugh escaped him, and he shook his head slightly. “You’re right,” he confirmed.

“Then I really think it’ll be better for all of us if you stop moving like you think you’ll break me and just fuck me.” Even as you spoke the words aloud, you felt flustered, but Satoru just smirked.

“Your wish is my command.”

He shifted his position slightly, guiding your legs up to wrap around his waist. Once he was confident you were settled, he started moving again. The sharp shift in the way he was fucking you was enough to make you yelp, though the sound dissolved into an unabashed moan, your grip on him tightening everywhere, desperate not to get jostled away from him.

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for you to feel another orgasm building, but you were powerless to do anything but hold on for the ride and moan the omega’s name as he brought you to new levels of ecstasy.

Satoru’s pace faltered a few moments later, his hips stuttering to a stop as he gasped. You whined softly, but shifted until you could look over his shoulder to see what had happened.

Suguru was kneeling on the bed behind Satoru, a hint of a smirk on his face as he gazed down at you. “Please,” he said evenly. “Don’t stop on my behalf. It’s absolutely delicious to watch.”

When Satoru shivered and moaned loudly in your ear, you looked down from the alpha’s face, not entirely unsurprised to see he was currently fucking Satoru’s pussy with his fingers.

“Awe,” Suguru taunted. “Is this too much for you, pretty boy? Do you need me to stop?”

“No!” Satoru answered immediately. “N-no, feels good… wan’ more, please, alpha?”

The fox seemed to consider for a moment, his ears and tail twitching in sync, before he came to a decision. He withdrew his fingers and landed a solid smack to the omega’s ass. “Make our little one cum first.”

“Yes, alpha.” 

Clearly not wanting to disappoint Suguru, your fellow bunny resumed his relentless pace from before, hips stuttering a bit as Satoru began to fuck him with his fingers again, but he didn’t stop this time, and was easily able to regain his rhythm. 

Ever a quick study, it wasn’t long until Satoru found your sweet spot, and once he found it, he adjusted his hips to make sure he nailed it with every thrust. He nibbled and sucked at your neck as you whimpered and writhed beneath him, thighs beginning to tremble where they were locked around his waist.

“You gettin’ close, little bunny?” he asked breathlessly, barely biting back a moan of his own as he waited for your answer.

“Uh-huh,” you whined, tilting your head to grant him further access to your neck. “Need more, ‘Toru, please…”

“I got you,” he promised. One of his hands snaked between your bodies, his palm resting on your lower belly as he reached down with his thumb, rubbing slow circles on your clit, the pace of his thumb a stark contrast to the pace of his hips.

“Cum for us, little one,” Suguru encouraged from above.

That was all it took. You wailed as you tipped over the edge into pure bliss again, your vision whiting out for a few moments as you shook almost violently in the throes of pleasure. Satoru was still rock hard inside you when you came back to yourself, though his thumb was – thankfully – no longer on your clit. His movements were more subtle now, more of a rocking motion as he moved back and forth into the wet heat of your cunt and the welcome intrusion of Suguru’s fingers.

“Please,” he whimpered, looking over his shoulder at the alpha. “Please, wanna cum, need to cum, please…”

“Shh,” the fox soothed. “No need to beg this time, pretty boy. You’ve done very well.”

The bunny whined at the praise, blush instantly coloring his cheeks as he rocked back onto the fingers in his cunt.

“Want you to cum inside them, yeah? Get them nice and wet for me…”

Satoru moaned the loudest he had all night at the command, and he nodded, moving his hips with purpose again now, though his movements were a bit uncoordinated. That didn’t matter, though, because soon enough he was pressing his full length into you one last time before spilling into you, simultaneously gushing slick over Suguru’s hand.

The sudden warmth filling you made a shiver run down your spine, and you moaned quietly at the feeling; it was much more pleasant than you would’ve expected. You were a bit surprised Satoru didn’t fully collapse on top of you then, but when you felt a larger, more calloused set of hands gently unwrapping your legs from around the other bunny’s waist, you realized it most likely because Suguru was planning to move him out of the way.

Your theory was proven right when, rather than falling down on top of you, Satoru flopped onto his back beside you on the bed, breathing heavily and staring almost unseeing at the ceiling. A moment later, a curtain of dark hair encroached on your vision, and you turned to look up at Suguru.

His narrow eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled down at you. “Feeling alright, little one?” he asked gently, ghosting his fingers along the hickies Satoru had left down one side of your neck.

You hummed softly, giving him a slight nod, lashes fluttering and goosebumps raising your skin at the featherlight touch of his fingers on your throat.

“Good, I’m glad. How about a little breather, hm? Pretty boy over here will get all pouty if I don’t pay attention to him, too.” Though his words teasing in nature, almost taunting, the affection in the alpha’s voice was unmistakable.

His comment made you giggle softly, and you nodded. “Breather sounds nice,” you agreed. “I just get to lay here and relax?”

“Yeah, just relax,” he confirmed. “Roll over for me, I’ll help you get comfortable.”

You did as you were asked, flipping over so you now laid on your stomach, rather than your back. You jumped slightly as you felt him lift your hips with one hand, but quickly mellowed out when you realized he was just sliding a pillow under you.

“Comfy?”

“Very,” you hummed, unable to stop the purr that began to vibrate in your throat. “Go get him off before he starts whining.” You gestured in Satoru’s direction, eyes half closed as you allowed yourself to really relax.

That made Suguru laugh softly, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek before moving over to the other bunny, who seemed to be more coherent now, given that he looked displeased, and his bottom lip was jutted out.

“I don’t get whiny, and I don’t pout,” Satoru insisted.

“You’re pouting right now, pretty boy,” Suguru teased, smiling down at him.

Satoru said nothing, just huffed and looked away from the alpha above him. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Ah, but you like when I’m mean to you.”

“In bed.”

“Yes, pretty boy, I know. Only in bed.” Suguru began to press soft kisses down Satoru’s body then, pausing at his chest to take one of the omega’s pretty pink nipples between his teeth and tug lightly. 

Satoru squeaked at the feeling, body jerking and gracelessly trying to swat the alpha in retaliation. “No fair! You promised you wouldn’t use teeth on them anymore.”

“Sorry,” Suguru apologized, not looking particularly sorry at all. “Won’t happen again.”

As they bantered back and forth, their affection for each other rolling off of them in waves, you watched silently from the sidelines, a soft, if slightly sad, smile on your face. Though you’d been in relationships before, you’d never had anything like what the two of them had, either romantically or platonically. Not until you’d met them, anyways.

They had always been so sweet to you, welcoming you into their world so quickly. You knew they never needed to pretend to be anything they weren’t when they were together, and the more time you spent with them, the less you felt like you had to pretend around them, too. It was nice to have people you trusted so much, and who trusted you the same; to love someone and have them love you in return.

Because really, you did love them, and you’d told them that before, more than once. It was a sentiment you knew they returned – they’d said it to you more than enough times for you to believe them – but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized that the line between romance and friendship with them had long since blurred, and that began to weigh on you.

Do I want what they have, or do I want… them?

Almost as soon as the thought crossed your mind, you shoved it aside; now was certainly not the time to be unpacking all of that.

You were quickly pulled back into the moment and out of your thoughts when you heard Suguru say your name. Only, he wasn’t talking to you, but about you, as he ground his hips into Satoru’s, buried to the hilt in the omega’s pussy. It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, but eventually you realized he was talking about… biting you.

“They’d look so pretty with my mark on their neck, don’t you think, pretty boy? Let everyone know who they really belong to, who loves them more than anyone else.”

Satoru whined, though the sound wasn’t entirely pleasurable. “You said you’d bite me first,” he replied, voice quiet and smaller than you were used to hearing. “You promised, promised I’d be first, even when we fell for them. You promised.”

The pain that laced the edge of Satoru’s words nearly broke your heart, and before Suguru had a chance to say anything, you decided to cut in.

“Bite him first,” you said quietly, meeting the fox’s dark, steady gaze. “Keep your promise, bite him first. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes flashed at your words, and an almost hopeful look crossed his face, before he looked back down at Satoru. “You heard them, pretty boy. They’re not going anywhere.”

The bunny smiled at the news, letting out a little chirp – the single most adorable sound you’d ever heard him make – at the news, though soon enough he was gasping and moaning again as the fox fucked him a little harder, kissing and sucking down his throat and pumping his cock in time with his thrusts.

“F-Fuck, alpha, gonna cum,” he whined, bucking his hips up into Suguru’s fist.

“Cum for me, pretty boy,” Suguru cooed. “Cum for me and I’ll bite you.”

The words had barely left the alpha’s mouth before Satoru was crying out, writhing and bucking his hips as he spilled over Suguru’s hand, coating his fingers in white.

At that same moment, Suguru fulfilled his promise, biting down hard on the curve of the bunny’s throat, sinking his teeth into the scent gland there and thoroughly claiming Satoru as his. Satoru tensed as he was bitten, but it was only for a split second before he went completely boneless beneath the alpha, whining and babbling his name until the alpha released his hold on his neck.

“Look at you, pretty boy,” Suguru murmured affectionately. “Even prettier now that you’re mine…”

Satoru’s answering hum quickly morphed into a whine of protest as Suguru pulled out, still rock hard and covered in the other man’s slick; he hadn’t knotted Satoru, which struck you as odd.

“It’s ok, baby,” Suguru rushed to soothe him, brushing the hair from his forehead and pressing a soft kiss to the sweaty skin there. “I’ll knot you later, alright? Gotta make sure little one’s all taken care of first.”

The words seemed to do the trick, and Satoru quieted down, nodding slightly as he rolled over to lay on his side, now facing you. “He’s gonna make you feel really good,” he murmured, reaching out towards you and taking your hand. “His knot feels incredible.”

You giggled softly at his words, though you were sure he was being entirely sincere as he spoke. You squeezed his hand gently, only pulling away when Suguru removed the pillow from beneath your hips and rolled you over onto your back once again.

“Hi,” he greeted with a small chuckle. “You ready to take me?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words died in your throat as you finally got a good look at him, your eyes going comically wide. 

His cock was huge. Maybe not quite as long as Satoru’s was, but it was much thicker, which reignited your worries from earlier in the evening.

“Hey, look at me,” Suguru called, gently tilting your chin up until you met his eyes again. “We can stop right here if you want. If you’re not ready to take me, that’s okay. And if you don’t want to have sex but you still want me to claim you, we can do that too.”

Knowing you still had the option to back out, even now, and knowing neither of the boys would be upset with you if you did was enough to bolster your confidence. “I want to keep going,” you told him. “Want you to knot me, claim me as yours.”

“I can definitely do that,” he said, purring a bit as he leaned down and kissed you. Much like your kisses with Satoru earlier, the touch went from sweet and chaste to desperate and devouring in just a few short moments. 

As the alpha broke the kiss and shifted to sit back on his knees, you whined and attempted to follow him, but he kept a gentle hand on your stomach to keep you down where you were. “Wanna see what a mess Satoru made of you,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eye.

You swallowed thickly and nodded, not protesting as he placed his hands on your knees and pushed your legs apart, staring down at your messy, dripping pussy. When he let out a low whistle at the sight, you whined in embarrassment and covered your face with your hands; you couldn’t believe he wanted to see all that, couldn’t believe you were letting him, couldn’t believe he was enjoying it.

“Pretty boy sure did a good job getting you ready for me, I’ll give him that,” Suguru said, wanting to have just a bit more fun teasing the two of you, his two bashful omegas, before he gave you what both you and he wanted so badly. “That’s good, though. It’ll make it easier for you to take me.” He rubbed his hands up and down your thighs for a moment, waiting until you peeked through your fingers at him. 

“It will?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “The glide will be nice and easy, no dry friction or anything to worry about causing any pain. It’ll still probably be a bit of a stretch,” he added. “But it’ll be much easier on you this way.”

The tension bled from your shoulders at his words, and you nodded again, slowly pulling your hands away from your face. “What are you waiting for, then?” you asked him, biting your lip lightly after you spoke; you normally weren’t one to tea or speak so playfully in bed, but these two brought out a different side of you than any of your previous partners, and for that, you were glad.

“Well when you put it like that,” Suguru replied with a grin, spreading your legs a bit wider so he could settle between them more comfortably as he leaned down over you once again. He pecked a quick kiss to your lips as he lined himself up with your entrance. “I’m not waiting for anything anymore.”

He pushed in slowly, just as Satoru had, but you could feel your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You clenched around him involuntarily, and he hissed at the feeling. 

“Deep breaths, little one,” he murmured, helping you breathe in time with him, which in turn helped you relax and release the tension in your body. Before you knew it, he was fully seated inside you, and you cradled his face in your hands as you both took a moment to breathe.

“Suguru?” “Yes, little one?”

“If you don’t knot me soon I think I might combust.”

A small laugh burst out of him then, and he easily captured your lips in a kiss. “I don’t think you’ll have to wait long,” he assured you. “I’m as desperate for this as you are.”

And desperate you were. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you pulled him into another kiss, your fingers slipping through his silky black hair as you attempted to find something to hold onto, something to ground you as he fucked you, every movement deep and intentional, as if he had a mission to accomplish, because he did. Both of you were eager for him to knot you, to bite you and claim you as his just like he had done with Satoru a bit before.

You whined against the fox’s skin as you buried your face in his neck; he was making you feel amazing, but it wasn’t enough.

The feeling of another set of lips trailing down your arm to your shoulder had you gasping in surprise, and when you turned to see what was happening, you were pleased to see that it was your fellow bunny coming to help. He twitched an ear affectionately in your direction, and you did your best to return the gesture, a sweet – if somewhat fucked out – smile on your face as you looked at him.

Taking the gesture as an invitation, he leaned in and kissed you slow and sweet, his light purrs vibrating into the kiss and making you scrunch your nose as the feeling, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You allowed yourself to get lost in the kiss and the feeling of Suguru’s thick cock filling you better than anything or anyone else ever had, so when you felt two of Satoru’s dexterous fingers land on your clit and start tracing little infinity symbols, you gasped, beginning to writhe under the pleasurable stimulation. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you warned, the words escaping you on a high pitched, whining moan, and you clenched around the cock inside you.

Suguru moaned in return, licking up the side of your neck left unblemished by Satoru before he spoke. “That’s okay,” he mumbled into your skin, placing hot, wet, openmouthed kisses haphazardly across your skin. “Let us make you feel good, don’t worry about anything else.”

You could only nod in response to his words, and seconds later you were falling apart, moaning high and breathless as you clenched around him, shuddering and shaking with pleasure. “Bite,” you begged quietly. “Please, alpha, claim me…”

A low, possessive growl rumbled in Suguru’s chest at the sound of you referring to him as “alpha”, and almost instantly he was sinking his fangs into your neck, in the exact same spot he had bitten the other bunny.

The breath was stolen from your lungs as you felt him puncture your scent gland, and while your prey instincts stiffened every muscle in your body for a split second, preparing you to flee for your life, the tension disappeared just as quickly, leaving you practically a puddle underneath your fox.

Just when you thought everything was done, that it couldn’t get any better, you felt Suguru slam into you one last time, flooding your insides with warmth; you also felt the way his knot swelled, stretching you out impossibly more and locking you together for a while.

You wailed at the feeling, nails scraping at his scalp until he released your throat from between his teeth. It was as if all the adrenaline and pain bled out of you from the new bite mark in your neck, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

A soft grunt slipped from your lips as Suguru collapsed on top of you, though he did what he could to keep his full weight off of you. When he deemed that task too difficult, though, he wrapped his arms around you, carefully rolling both of you onto your sides. Satoru was quick to snuggle up behind you, reaching across your body until he could rest a hand on your shared alpha’s hip; Suguru quickly did the same, and once they were touching each other again, they relaxed. You were sure their purring was involuntary, but it was genuine.

You’d certainly slept worse places than between two purring men who loved you.

yeah i.... don't really have anything else to say. this was not proofread so i apologize for any glaring errors. also i don't know how dicks work.

tagging: @lorelune @yutaleks @dr-runs-with-scissors @kentohours @fushigurro (not tagging my usual taglist bc uhh. this is not what y'all signed up for lmao)

dividers by saradika-graphics

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

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💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage. 

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly. 

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.” Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock. 

You might have hit the man on the back of the head. 

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him. 

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face. 

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.” 

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap,  hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles. 

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours,  still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.” 

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse. 

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.” 

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it. 

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag. 

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking,  you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help. 

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly. 

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic. 

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course. 

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest. 

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with. 

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, “I’d stop.” He would. 

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.” 

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry. 

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all? 

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?” 

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance. 

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught. 

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you. 

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though? 

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic. 

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you’d change your mind. 

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.” 

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.” 

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper. 

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy. 

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest. 

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention. 

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.” 

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing. 

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure. 

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin. 

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else. 

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock. 

Diamonds are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes. 

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?” 

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed. 

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob? 

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing? 

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse. 

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer? 

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.  

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate. 

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?” 

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet. 

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment. 

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer. 

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.  

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.” 

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home. 

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily. 

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along. 

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!” 

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips. 

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar,@straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove@saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , @sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

[fullsunstrawberry]

a little crush

synopsis: being friends with Intak is awesome and often you get invited to hang out during practice. However, the guys have noticed Jongseob's close relationship with you. His behavior around you seems different, but the catch is you only like older guys… 

genre: friends to lovers, angst, fluff ending

warnings: swearing and third person when reader isn't there

word count: 6.8k

[piwon masterlist]

a/n: trying out a new format,, let me know if you like it!! <3

"Intak, are you still inviting your friend to practice?" Theo asked as the group entered the practice room.

"As long as Keeho is still fine with it!" All eyes turned toward Keeho, awaiting his response.

"Quit staring! Of course, she can come..." He dismissed their gazes with a wave. "But only if you all work hard, no slacking off," Keeho glanced at Soul, prompting a laugh and a shrug from him.

"I've already got the choreography down!" Soul defended.

"I've already texted her. She's on her way with food!" Intak cheered.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The group eagerly got started, trying to get everything down before y/n arrived. Already knowing some of the members would get distracted.

Intak’s phone buzzed with a message, and he quickly checked it. “She’s here!” He announced, rushing to the door to greet her.

With a warm smile, you entered the practice room, carrying bags of takeout. The delicious smell filled the air, making everyone’s stomachs growl. Keeho couldn’t help but smirk knowing he was right, everyone was gonna be distracted.

Before everyone sat down to eat, you made sure to give everyone a small hug as a greeting. Jongseob quickly fixed his hair in the mirror before walking over to you with a smile on his face.

“You brought food again, y/n? You’re a lifesaver!” Jongseob exclaimed, his eyes shining with gratitude. You chuckled at his enthusiasm and started unpacking the bags. You started to hand out the food, making sure everyone had their favorite dishes before settling down yourself.

Before you could even choose where to sit, Jongseob already patted the spot next to him. You settled down next to Jongseob, smiling at him before opening your own takeout.

“You need to try this, It’s so good!” Jongseob held up his chopsticks to your face. Without a second thought, you opened your mouth and let him feed you.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing! Next time I need to get some”

“Here have some of mine,” Jongseob took his takeout out box and shoved some of his food onto yours. In protest you try to move your plate away but stopped because you didn’t want to spill anything, “You’re the one who needs to eat, You’re a growing boy!” You laughed, teasing him with a giggle.

Jongseob rolled his eyes, reaching for another piece of food to offer you. "You paid for it," he said with a grin. You both continued to share food, laughing and chatting animatedly with each other. The rest of the group watched in amusement, some exchanging knowing glances with each other.

You stood up and excused yourself, wanting something from the vending machine. Jongseob also stood up and called out he was going to.

Once you two were out of the practice room, everyone looked around silently. Until Theo broke it, “So does he like her or something?”

Keeho chuckled and shook his head, "Oh, definitely. Have you seen the way he looks at her? It's written all over his face."

Jiung leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's about time he made a move. They're perfect for each other."

Soul nodded in agreement, "I've never seen Jongseob act this way around anyone before. It's pretty obvious he's into her."

Keeho nudged intak, getting him to look up from his phone, “What about her, you think she likes him?”

Intak looked a little stunned, “Y/n and Jongseob?” He questioned “No, y/n’s not into younger guys”

Everyone groaned, “HEY! I’m just being honest, she probably sees him as a younger brother…” Intak defended himself.

The group continued their conversation, each member sharing their thoughts on Jongseob and your relationship. Despite Intak's insistence that you only saw Jongseob as a younger brother, Keeho couldn't help but notice the way you always laughed at Jongseob’s jokes, and how your eyes sparkled when you talked to him. It was obvious to him that there was something more between you two.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you and Jongseob reentered the room, laughing about something only the two of you knew. The group quickly composed themselves, trying to act nonchalant. You resumed your seat next to Jongseob, who was still grinning from whatever joke he had shared with you.

As you settled back in, Jongseob leaned in slightly, his voice low as he spoke only to you. "Hey, y/n, do you maybe want to hang out after practice? Just the two of us?" He glanced nervously at the rest of the group, who were now doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop.

“Sure, there’s this new night café I want to check out.” You smiled already pulling up your phone to check the time they close. “I’ll pay, my treat!” You grinned, delusional about the fact he wanted this hangout to be different.

“No, I’m gonna pay this time” Jongseob shook his head.

“It’s no big deal, I’m paying!” You argued.

Jongseob chuckled, a fond look in his eyes as he gazed at you. He reached over and gently took your hand, causing a hush to fall over the room as the group watched in anticipation. "Y/n, let me treat you this time," he insisted with a soft smile. You hesitated for a moment before finally nodding, a warm feeling spreading through your chest at his gesture. The rest of the group exchanged excited glances, knowing that this hangout might just be the push their friend needed to take your relationship to the next level.

“Okay, that’s enough! Time to get back to practice.” Keeho shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention and causing Jongseob to jump slightly at the voice of another person.

You laugh and go to sit in the corner of the room, where you normally sit to watch everyone dance. You locked eyes with Jongseob’s and he gave you a smile before focusing on what Keeho was saying.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, everyone take a little break. No longer than 5 minutes!” Keeho yelled, his voice already sounding tired.

You looked up from your phone and noticed Intak making his way towards you.

You smiled up at him as he started to sit down. “Am I in trouble? You don’t look so happy…”

Intak sighed, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Intak hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. "It's about Jongseob," he finally blurted out.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What about him?" you asked, your heart rate picking up a notch.

Intak cleared his throat, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I know you see him as a younger brother, but I've noticed something... between you two. And I think he might have feelings for you." He paused, gauging your reaction.

You felt a rush of emotions flood through you - surprise, uncertainty, and maybe even hope but you wouldn’t admit it. "Jongseob?" you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the idea.

Intak nodded solemnly. "Yeah. And I think you should consider how you feel about him too."

Before you could respond, the rest of the group began filtering back into the room, laughter, and chatter filling your ears but it all sounded like ringing.

Before you could even think you stood up and gathered your things. “Um, sorry guys but I need to go home…I’m really tired!”

As you gathered your things in a rush, the group exchanged puzzled looks, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Intak watched you with a mix of concern and guilt, wondering if he had overstepped by bringing up Jongseob's feelings. Just as you were about to leave, Jongseob caught up to you at the door, his expression a mix of worry and confusion.

"Y/N, is everything alright?" Jongseob asked softly, placing a hand on your arm to stop you from leaving.

You turned to face him, trying to school your features into a neutral expression despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "Yeah, I'm just really exhausted. I think I need to rest for a bit."

Jongseob studied your face intently as if searching for any hint of what was truly going on in your mind. "Do you want me to walk you home?" he offered hesitantly.

A small part of you wanted to accept his offer but you shook your head no and mustered a small smile. "It's okay, Jongseob. I'll be fine. Thank you, though," you replied softly, avoiding his gaze.

Jongseob's expression fell slightly at your refusal, but he nodded understandingly.

"Alright, just take care of yourself, y/n. And remember, if you ever need anything, I'm here for you," he said sincerely.

You gave him a grateful look before slipping out the door, the cool night air hitting your face as you made your way home. Thoughts of Jongseob and Intak's words swirled in your mind, leaving you feeling more conflicted than ever.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Back in the practice room, everyone turned towards Intak. “What just happened?” Jiung muttered shocked.

Intak cleared his throat, his expression full of guilt. "I think I might have upset her," he admitted slowly, his eyes darting between the group members. But not having the courage to look at Jongseob.

“What did you say?” Jongseob’s voice was serious, never daring to use such a harsh tone of voice when speaking to someone older. But he didn't care right now.

Intak hesitated, feeling the weight of Jongseob's gaze on him. "I... I just mentioned that I noticed something between her and you. That maybe you have feelings for her," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jongseob's eyes widened in shock, his mind racing with a mixture of emotions. He turned to look at Keeho, who gave him an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, Jongseob finally spoke up, his voice trembling slightly.

"I-I do have feelings for her. I just never knew how to tell her," he admitted, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The group fell silent, processing this new revelation. Jiung was the first to break the silence, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her!" he urged Jongseob, nudging him playfully.

But instead of encouraging him, he felt defeated. “I’m guessing by her reaction it wasn't mutual…”

Keeho placed a reassuring hand on Jongseob's shoulder, offering him a supportive smile.

"You never know until you try, Jongseob. Maybe she just needs some time to process everything. Don't give up just yet."

Jongseob shook his head in disagreement, “No, I should have known she wouldn't feel the same way.”

Feeling dejected, Jongseob sank down onto one of the practice room's chairs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His mind was a whirlwind of regret and self-blame, wishing he had never let his feelings for you surface. The rest of the group exchanged concerned glances, unsure of what to do or say to lift their friend's spirits. Jiung cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence that hung in the air.

"You can't give up so easily, Jongseob. Sometimes things are more complicated than they seem," he offered softly, trying to offer some comfort. But Jongseob merely shook his head, his expression resigned.

"I've already caused enough trouble. I don't want to make things even more awkward between us," he mumbled, avoiding everyone's gaze.

A few moments of silence passed before Jongseob spoke again, “Can you guys just forget about it and leave me alone.” He huffed out putting his headphones on to escape the awkward atmosphere.

As Jongseob disappeared into his own world with his music, the rest of the group exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to proceed. Keeho let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"This is a mess," he muttered under his breath, feeling the weight of the tension in the room. Theo leaned back against the mirrored wall, crossing his arms thoughtfully.

"Maybe we should give them some space," he suggested, eyeing the door through which you had left earlier. Intak nodded in agreement, his expression still clouded with guilt over potentially causing this rift among friends.

"I'll talk to her later and try to clear things up," he promised, determination flickering in his eyes. With a shared understanding, the group dispersed quietly, each lost in their own thoughts and concerns for their friends. Outside in the cool night air, you walked slowly along the dimly lit streets, your mind a whirlwind of emotions and questions.

“Do you like jongseob…?”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ-

You decided to sleep it off, for a while week… Just staying in bed and thinking, ignoring everyone's messages unless it was about work. Everything reminded you about Jongseob, you missed him.

As the days passed by in a haze of self-imposed solitude, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between you and Jongseob. But the fear of risking your friendship held you back.

One evening, when the sun finally set, a soft knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. With a heavy heart, you dragged yourself out of bed to answer it.

To your surprise, it was Intak standing on your doorstep, looking sad yet determined.

"Can we talk?" he asked softly, his eyes full of regret.

You hesitated for a moment, uncertainty swirling in your mind. But seeing the sincerity in Intak's eyes, you nodded and stepped aside to let him in. Intak followed you into your living room, the air heavy.

"I wanted to apologize for what I said that day," Intak began, his voice laced with remorse. "I never meant to cause any trouble between you and Jongseob."

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke up. "It's okay, Intak. You were just trying to help."

There was a moment of silence before Intak continued, his words careful and sincere. "I know Jongseob's feelings for you are real.“

"He's been a mess since that day, blaming himself for everything. I've never seen him like this before, y/n," Intak confessed, his eyes pleading for understanding. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest, realizing the impact of your silence on Jongseob. Taking a deep breath, you finally found the courage to speak up.

“I care about him too, I just don’t know if it’s romantic feelings,” you admitted quietly.

Intak listened attentively, his eyes reflecting concern. He reached out a comforting hand towards you, offering silent support. After a moment of silence, you continued your voice barely above a whisper.

"I've been avoiding the truth because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. But hearing him so upset... it breaks my heart," you confessed, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Intak nodded understandingly, his expression softening. "Do you want to try and see where things go," he said gently.

“How?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Go on a date with him, just hang out in a different light.” Intak’s suggestion lingered in the air.

After a moment of silence, you nodded slowly, a newfound determination settling in your heart.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try,” you replied, surprising even yourself with the resolve in your voice. Intak’s eyes lit up with relief and a hint of excitement as he stood up, ready to relay the message to Jongseob.

As he made his way to the door, a surge of nervousness washed over you. “Make sure to get all dressed up” Intak winked before you scoffed and closed the door on him.

You would never admit that you ran to your closet to find the perfect outfit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ TEXT MESSAGE ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

intake: be at the dorm, tomorrow at 6 😉😙

y/n: WHY ARE YOU BEING SO CRIPTIC???

intake: jongsoeb is nervous 🤪

y/n: im nervous…

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Now how were you supposed to go to sleep, your heart was beating way too fast. The night felt like an eternity as you tossed and turned, unable to calm the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you.

Thoughts of Jongseob filled your mind, along with a fluttering mix of excitement and nervousness about what the next day might bring. Finally, sleep overtook you just as midnight hit.

As you got ready for the day, your hands shook slightly as you picked out a cute sundress that you had never worn before. It felt weird knowing the guys had never seen you in a dress. You never got dolled up to hang out with them. The minutes ticked by slowly until it was finally time to make your way to the dorm.

When the clock finally struck 6 pm, you found yourself standing in front of the dorm, heart pounding in your chest.

Knocking on the door you heard a bunch of whispers and what you think is Keeho shouting “Places everyone” Then the door opened.

Jongseob stood there looking at the ground. You took the moment to just look at him.

His usual demeanor was replaced with nervousness. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he finally met your gaze, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. You felt your own cheeks warm up in response to his shy smile.

"Hey," Jongseob greeted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You look... amazing."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips at his compliment, feeling a rush of courage wash over you. "You don't look too bad yourself," you teased playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

He then stepped aside and gestured you inside. As you looked around you saw Jiung dressed in a waiter's uniform.

“Table for two?” he asked, Jongseob nodded, Jiung gestured towards a beautifully set table in the living room, complete with candles and a vase of fresh flowers. You couldn't help but admire the effort that had been put into creating this special atmosphere. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over everything.

Jongseob pulled out a chair for you, you smiled at him as you took your seat.

Jiung played the part of the waiter perfectly, taking your orders with a mischievous glint in his eye. He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you and Jongseob alone at the table.

You broke the silence by laughing, “What is happening!?”

Jongseob grinned at your laughter, his eyes shining with a mix of relief and happiness. "I may have enlisted some help to make this night special…Keeho didn’t want us to get spotted outside" he admitted, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. You couldn't help but feel your heart flutter at his gesture, appreciating the effort he had put into the evening.

"I really appreciate all of this," you smiled.

"You don't need to thank me," Jongseob replied, a shy smile still playing on his lips. "I just want to make things right between us."

Jiung reappeared with plates of delicious food, and the two of you enjoyed a makeshift dinner together in the cozy dorm room. Jongseob's eyes never strayed far from you, his gaze filled with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

“You look beautiful” Jongseob cleared his throat and looked at you.

Blushing at Jongseob's compliment, "Thank you," you replied softly, meeting his gaze.

You saw him playing with the dinner cloth, and with a burst of confidence, you softly grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Jongseob's eyes widened in surprise at first, but then a big smile spread across his face as he interlaced his fingers with yours.

You found yourself lost in his gaze, a tender moment passing between the two of you as if the world outside didn’t exist. The flickering candlelight cast gentle shadows on Jongseob's face, highlighting the soft curve of his smile and the sparkle in his eyes.

He stared into your eyes before his gaze lowered to your lips and lingered there, a silent question hanging in the air.

Your heart raced as you felt the intensity of his gaze. Without breaking eye contact, you leaned in slowly, your breath hitching with each passing second.

Just as your lips were about to meet his, a loud clatter from the kitchen broke the moment, causing both of you to jump apart in surprise. Jiung stumbled out carrying a dessert tray, looking sheepish as he apologized for the interruption. You couldn't help but laugh at the timing.

Jongseob chuckled softly, his eyes still locked onto yours with an unreadable expression. "I think Jiung should give us some privacy," he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a newfound ease settling between you and Jongseob. Just like how you always hung out.

As Jiung left the room with an apologetic smile, you and Jongseob were left alone once again. The tension that had been broken by the interruption seemed to still linger in the air.

“Don’t be nervous, it’s just me” You smiled, trying to meet his gaze once again.

Jongseob's eyes softened at your words, a small smile playing on his lips “That’s exactly why I'm nervous”

“Let’s watch something” You got up but kept your hand interlocked with his.

Settling down on the couch you leaned into him and handed him the remote. “Is Harry Potter okay?”

You nodded setting your head onto his shoulder, feeling him tense up and the physical contact. Jongseob hesitated for a moment, his breath catching in his throat at the proximity between the two of you.

As the familiar opening music of Harry Potter filled the room, he slowly relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy this simple yet intimate moment with you.

You felt his muscles loosen under your touch, a sense of contentment washing over you as you watched the movie together. His warmth beside you was comforting, and you couldn't help but steal glances at his profile every now and then.

As the movie progressed, Jongseob's hand found its way to yours, intertwining your fingers together once again. The gesture sent a rush of butterflies through your stomach.

In the dimly lit room, surrounded by the soft glow of the TV screen, you found yourself lost in the movie and in Jongseob's presence. His closeness was nerve-wracking, but you were starting to get used to it.

The movie came to an end, the credits rolling on the screen as you both sat in comfortable silence. Jongseob turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he spoke softly, "I've missed this... just being with you like this."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, realizing that you had missed these simple moments too. "Me too," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips.

Jongseob hesitated for a moment before he spoke again, his voice hesitant but sincere, "I know I messed up before, but I really want to make things right. I care about you a lot... maybe more than I've ever let on."

His vulnerability took you by surprise. You gently squeezed his hand, meeting his gaze with understanding. "I should be the one to apologize to you, I overreacted because I didn't know how I felt.”

Jongseob’s eyes softened at your words, a weight lifting off his shoulders at your understanding. "I'm glad we're both on the same page now," he admitted, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

After a moment of silence, Jongseob spoke up again, "I want to give this shot, if you're willing," his eyes never leaving yours.

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. "I want that too," you replied.

Jongseob physically relaxed, huffing out with a smile “Oh thank god!”

With a laugh, you playfully nudged Jongseob's shoulder. “I should probably get going, I had a lot of fun,” You watched Jongseob’s face falter for a second before putting on a small smile.

“Or I could stay over…but I didn’t plan for this.”

Jongseob's eyes widened at your suggestion, a mix of surprise and delight flashing across his face. "You...you can stay over if you want," he stammered, trying to hide his excitement. "I can grab extra blankets and pillows."

You chuckled at his adorable reaction, nodding in agreement. "That sounds perfect," you replied, feeling a sense of happiness blooming in your chest at the prospect of spending more time with Jongseob.

He started to take off the couch cushions and placed them on the floor, “What are you doing!?” You chuckled at Jongseob's earnest attempt to create a makeshift bed on the floor.

"I don’t think the couch is big enough for both of us," he teased, using the TV stand to hold up a blanket roof.

You couldn't help but laugh at Jongseob's makeshift pillow fort. "It's perfect," you assured him, settling down on the cushions as he joined you, the two of you squeezed close together in the cozy blanket fort he had created. The room was dimly lit now, the only source of light coming from the TV screen that was asking if anyone was still watching.

As you lay side by side, Jongseob shifted slightly, his hand brushing against yours under the covers. Sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting in the semi-darkness as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'm really glad you decided to stay," he murmured.

"I'm glad too," you replied, reaching out to gently intertwine your fingers with his. The simple gesture felt natural as if it was where your hands were meant to be all along.

As the night grew deeper, the soft murmur of conversation between you and Jongseob gradually faded into a comfortable silence.

Jongseob's breathing slowed beside you, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as he shifted closer, seeking your closeness in the darkness. You could feel the heat radiating off his body.

With a contented sigh, you nestled closer to him, resting your head against his chest as his arm instinctively wrapped around your waist. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Waking up to a bunch of whisper yelling wasn't the best. But you continued to fake sleeping to hear what was going on around you.

You listened to the hushed voices around you, trying to piece together what was happening. It sounded like Jiung had returned and found the two of you in your makeshift blanket fort on the living room floor.

His voice was a mix of shock and amusement as he whispered urgently to someone else. You felt Jongseob stir beside you, his arm tightening around your waist protectively as he too pretended to be asleep.

You remained still, keeping your breathing steady as the voices around you grew louder. It seemed like the whole household was now aware of your impromptu sleepover on the living room floor. Jiung's voice was filled with disbelief as he recounted the scene to everyone who had gathered around.

As the whispers turned into hushed laughter, you couldn't help but crack a smile, realizing how ridiculous the situation must look from an outsider's perspective. Jongseob shifted beside you, his eyes still closed but a small grin playing on his lips as well.

Suddenly, the whispering stopped, and you heard footsteps approaching your blanket fort. You and Jongseob exchanged a quick glance before slowly turning to find Keeho peeking through the blanket roof, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Keeho said with a grin, earning a few chuckles from the others gathered around.

You sat up, trying to stifle a yawn as you took in the amused expressions of the group surrounding you. Jongseob sat up beside you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. It was clear that the unexpected sleepover had become the talk of the house.

Theo raised an eyebrow teasingly before breaking into a wide smile. "I must say, this is quite the cozy fort you've got here. I hope we're not interrupting anything important?" he quipped, earning a chorus of playful laughter from the others.

You couldn't help but join in, the lighthearted atmosphere easing any lingering nerves you had about being caught in such a compromising position. Jongseob nudged your shoulder with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced around at his friends.

Jiung, who had been the first to discover your impromptu slumber party, chuckled and clapped his hands together. "Well, I hate to break the news, but breakfast won't make itself. Who's up for some pancakes?" he announced with a grin, already heading towards the kitchen.

The group exchanged eager looks before scrambling to their feet, the previous moment of teasing forgotten as they followed Jiung into the kitchen.

You and Jongseob shared a smile before joining the others, the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the windows and casting a golden glow over the scene.

As you all gathered around the kitchen island, laughing and chatting while some were arguing about who was going to make the pancakes.

“I’ll make them, but everyone out of the kitchen!” You spoke up, swatting at them to give you some space.

With a playful pout from the others, they begrudgingly left the kitchen, leaving you alone in the cozy space.

You could hear their banter and playful arguments from the other room, a warm feeling settling in your chest at the sound. Despite the slightly chaotic start to the morning, you felt grateful for these friends who had become like family to you.

As you started gathering ingredients and utensils to make pancakes, Jongseob stepped closer, offering to help. You worked together seamlessly, falling into a comfortable rhythm as you mixed batter and poured it onto the sizzling griddle. The sweet scent of cooking pancakes filled the air, mixing with the sound of light chatter from the other room.

Jongseob's laughter rang out as you attempted to flip a pancake, only for it to end up lopsided on the pan. He reached over, his hand covering yours as he guided the spatula beneath the pancake, flipping it effortlessly. Your eyes met his in a silent exchange, a warmth blooming in your chest as you shared a smile.

As the last pancake cooked to somewhat perfection, you and Jongseob plated them up, adding a generous drizzle of maple syrup. The delicious aroma drew the attention of the others, who eagerly crowded around the kitchen island as you set out the breakfast feast.

Intak let out a low whistle as he eyed the pancakes hungrily. "I must say, you two make quite the culinary team," he remarked with a grin, already reaching for a plate.

Chuckling at his comment, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the breakfast spread before you. It wasn't just about the pancakes, you liked this. It was different from any other time you have slept over.

“So what are you guys doing today?” you asked, a part of you hoping they had a free day to hang out, not wanting to leave just yet.

Keeho stopped shoving pancakes down his throat to reply, “We have to go to the studio, we’re planning another comeback.”

Disappointment flickered across your face briefly before you masked it with a smile, nodding in understanding. "That sounds exciting! I can't wait to see what you all come up with," you replied, genuinely happy for their success even as a part of you wished for more time together.

As the group finished their breakfast and began to scatter to get ready for the day, Jongseob lingered by your side. "Would you like me to walk you home?" he offered, his gaze warm and sincere.

A smile washed over your face at his thoughtfulness, and you nodded, not wanting to say goodbye just yet.

Walking side by side, the two of you shared easy conversation and comfortable silence along the familiar route to your place.

When you reached your door, you turned to face Jongseob, "Thank you for last night... and this morning. It meant a lot to me,"

Jongseob's eyes softened as he gazed at you, a gentle smile never leaving his lips when he is with you. "I had a great time too. Let's do it again sometime," he replied, his voice warm and genuine.

You went to go inside but Jongseob hesitated to leave. Giving him a confused look, he spoke up again “I’m going to be busy, with the comeback but please don’t overthink…I like you a lot”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his eyes leaving you momentarily speechless. A rush of warmth flooded through you as you met his gaze, the unspoken feelings between you suddenly hanging heavy in the air.

Without a second thought, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you and Jongseob, and wrapping your arms around him, in a warm hug.

Jongseob hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace, his arms encircling you in a tender hold. Feeling his arms encircle you in a gentle embrace, you buried your face in his chest.

When you finally pulled back, there was a softness in Jongseob's eyes that made your heart flutter. "I'll be waiting for you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, the unspoken promise between you both hanging in the air. With one last look, Jongseob turned and began to walk away, but not before throwing a final grin over his shoulder.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“So have you asked her to be your girlfriend yet?”

Jongseob's eyes widened in surprise at Theo's question, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Not yet... I want to do it properly, not just blurt it out," he admitted.

Theo chuckled, giving Jongseob a playful nudge. "Well, looks like someone's got it bad," he teased, earning a chuckle from the others who had gathered around to listen in on the conversation.

Intak raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You better make your move soon before someone else sweeps her off her feet," he added with a sly grin, earning a chorus of laughter from the group.

Jongseob's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red at the teasing, but there was a determined gleam in his eyes. "I will, it's just you guys know how busy we’ve been!"

But as the day wore on and Jongseob found himself caught up in a whirlwind of dance practices and recording sessions for their upcoming comeback, he couldn't shake the thought of you from his mind. Images of your smile, the warmth of your embrace, and the unspoken words between you lingered in his thoughts, a constant presence even in the midst of his busy schedule.

With each passing day, Jongseob longed to reach out to you, to hear your voice and see your smile once more. But as the demands of their comeback grew more intense, time slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving little room for anything beyond rehearsals and performances.

One evening, way past dinner time, Jongseob was working in his little studio. When he heard a knock on his door, he hesitated for a moment, he wasn't expecting anyone, especially not at this late hour. Setting aside his work, Jongseob made his way to the door. As he opened it, he was met with the sight of you standing on his doorstep, a smile on your face, and a bag of food in your hand.

"Hey," you greeted softly, playing with the hem of your shirt nervously. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, I have food!" You held up the bag of takeout.

Jongseob's surprise quickly melted into a warm smile at the sight of you. "Not at all," he reassured, stepping aside to let you in. "It's a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?"

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before meeting his gaze. "I... I couldn't stop thinking about you," you admitted, cheeks flushing slightly. "And I missed you."

A rush of emotions flooded through Jongseob at your words, his heart skipping a beat. "I missed you too," he confessed softly, reaching out to gently take the bag of food from your hands. "Come in, please," he added, leading you into his studio and pulling out a chair for you.

You settled in as Jongseob made a makeshift table by clearing stuff off his desk. The atmosphere felt comfortable and familiar as if no time had passed since the last time you were together. Conversation flowed easily between you two, about everything you both have done since you have seen each other.

As the evening wore on, Jongseob found himself caught up in your presence. The stress of the comeback disappeared. The way you smiled, the way you laughed, it all felt so right to him.

“Thank you for checking in on me.”

“Of course! You overwork yourself too much.” Jongseob's heart warmed at your words, a sense of gratitude filling him as he looked at you. "And you always know just how to make me feel better," he replied sincerely, his eyes soft as they met yours.

And in that moment, Jongseob knew that he couldn't hold back any longer. Taking a deep breath, he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

"I have something I want to ask you...something I've been wanting to say for a while now," he began, his voice slightly wavering. He continued with a murmur, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to be with me, officially."

A smile tugged at your lips as you gazed back at him, feeling the warmth of his hands against your face.

Without hesitation, you reached up to place your hands over his. "of course," you whispered, your voice filled with certainty and love. "I want to be with you too."

Jongseob's eyes lit up with joy and relief at your answer, a wide grin spreading across his face. Gently, he leaned in closer until his forehead rested against yours, “My heart is racing so fast,” He laughed softly.

You giggled at his honesty, “The guys are going to freak out!” Jongseob chuckled at the thought of his bandmates' reactions, but in that moment, all that mattered was the warmth of your hands in his, and the way your eyes never left his. As he pulled back slightly his gaze lowered to your lips before looking back at your eyes with a blush forming on his cheeks.

“What are you waiting for?” you whisper, scared your voice would shake. Without another moment of hesitation, Jongseob closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a soft and gentle kiss.

When you finally pulled back, after a few seconds, your heart racing and your breath caught in your throat. Jongseob's eyes searched yours, filled with adoration.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed softly, "To finally call you mine."

“I’m all yours” you smiled, with a smile that reached his eyes, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close in a tender embrace.

“Mmmh and to think you were only into older guys” With a playful swat on his arm, you chuckled, “Don’t get cocky now!”

Jongseob chuckled at your playful teasing, the sound of your laughter music to his ears. “Well, I did change your mind,” he replied with a grin and a wink.

Jongseob buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I think I've always been into you," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection.

You tilted your head back to look at him, a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, I'm glad you finally manned up" you teased, earning a mock gasp from Jongseob as he pulled back to look at you.

"I'll have you know, it took a lot of courage!" Jongseob retorted with a playful pout, earning a giggle from you in response.

The rest of the evening was spent wrapped up in each other's arms, talking and laughing as if no time had passed since you were last together. The worries and stresses of the outside world melted away in each other's presence.

Feeling so comfortable, you both started to slowly drift to sleep, cuddling close on the small couch. Jongseob pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before allowing himself to succumb to sleep.

It wasn’t until a small gasp that you woke up. You opened your eyes to find Jongseob stirring beside you, a look of confusion on his face. Following his gaze, you noticed a group of people looking in the window of the door.

As you both sat up in alarm, Jongseob quickly recognized the faces pressed against the glass. It was his bandmates, looking in with wide eyes and mischievous grins on their faces. They were gesturing wildly and making exaggerated expressions, clearly delighted to have stumbled upon the intimate scene inside the studio.

Jongseob's cheeks turned a deep shade of red as he realized they had witnessed your tender moments together. He scrambled to his feet, trying to shoo them away, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

Soul, couldn't contain his excitement and started making heart shapes with his hands, while Theo, mimed swooning dramatically against the door frame. Keeho, simply stood there with a knowing smile, enjoying the spectacle. Despite the embarrassing intrusion, you couldn't help.

general taglist: @haechansbbg @chenlesfeetpic @wonootnoot 

piwon taglist: @manooffline @youresolivlie @curiousgworge @ezlynkisses @barbiekh86t @jihnyah @beomsl @fishsquishh @astro-doll-the-star @bbyjjunie @catboyieejeno @lakoya @jihnyah @beomsl (click here to be added)

[borathae]

↳ Full Art

"You run in on Yoongi touching himself in the shower and he begs you to punish him because of it. Hard."

Pairing: Yoongi x n.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, masochist!Yoongi, rough Dom!Reader, he is naked and wet, CBT, cock slapping, safe ball busting with a knee, leaky cocks, dirty talk, degradation, he wants to be called dirty/bad slut, hair pulling, subby boy tears, drool, praise, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), Yoongi has a kink for being manhandled, male masturbation in shower, nipple sucking, cuddly aftercare, he's just a cute lil masochist who wants his balls busted and get hugs after <3

Wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: okay so, I'm trying trying the new format. istfg besties, Patreon is so stressful I might actually cry. idk how to do it so I'll like it 😭 okay so, my idea is that i'll post the story and a very cropped art preview (as seen on the header) here on Tumblr and if anyone wants to check out the full art to the story, they have to go to my Patreon. Engagement as far as stories is concerened is very bad on Patreon *glares* and I really miss yelling about the stories with you guys. So for my own peace of mind, i'll keep the stories on Tumblr and give all my true connoisseurs something extra spicy to thirst over on Patreon hehe <3 thank you for being patient with me. I promise to keep drawing and improving and to feed y'all thirsty hoes (affectionately) as much as I can 💜 also lmao those are long a/n fjajsdf have fun besties sorry it took a lil longer today, i tried to figure out how i wanna do sexy art of the month from now on fajdjfs

The bathroom is fogged up and smells heavily like Yoongi’s soap. Masculine, clean and expensive. You find yourself hazy because of it. What truly seals the state of you, however, is the view. Mirrors misted up, air milky from steam and right there in his expensive walk-in shower, Yoongi is having his throbbing cock in his tight fist. The water is turned off right now, but his body is still wet. His dark hair is slicked back, his silky skin is glistening and his head is tilted back in bliss as soft sighs slip past his pouty lips. 

You walked in on him touching himself. You really didn’t plan on doing so, but can’t seem to get yourself to leave. Or to stop staring for that matter.

He has a languid rhythm going. Slow, but clearly skilled. His long fingers are wrapped tightly around his veiny cock. His thumb is drawing circles on his flushed tip and pretty frenulum. He is sensitive there, likes it especially when someone is being gentle with it. His dark nipples are hard and the pale skin around them is flushed as if he had played with them moments before. Knowing Yoongi, he did. He is such a slut for nipple play. He is so fucking tender there. 

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out breathily, gliding his left hand up his own torso as he fucks his cock slowly. 

He is tensing and relaxing his stomach, broadening his stance as his knees wobble. He furrows his brows, biting down on his lower lip as small mewls leave him repeatedly. His long fingers close around his own biceps, giving it a needy squeeze. Look at the marks he leaves, look at how he is tensing his muscles.

You find yourself gulping and taking heavy breaths at the view.

What made him so goddamn needy? 

One thing Yoongi rarely does, is to jerk off. He sees it as something useless because if he gets horny, he has you to take the burden off his shoulders. He also rarely gets horny without you in the first place, so there is that. So to have him so incredibly lost in masturbation is rare and therefore insanely addicting.

What made him so needy? Was it a memory? A fantasy? A picture or video? Was it nothing of that sorts and he merely touched his cock wrong as he cleaned himself? Did the water hit the right spot and trap him in the delicious sensation of its wet massage? 

What did it to him?

“___”, Yoongi moans loudly, leaking onto the floor.

Your stomach clenches. Holy fuck. You did it to him. You did. The thought of you, the memory of your touch and the image of you did it to him. You let out a small gasp at the realisation.

Yoongi startles at the sound and opens his eyes. He stops, tenses up. You freeze, holding your breath. The air between you and him is tense and electric. He blinks at you, mouthing your name quietly.

“I uhm”, you begin, clearing your throat loudly.

He drops his hand from his biceps, tightening his fingers around his cock. He can’t seem to leave his trance of shock. The only indicator that the view of you is turning him on, is his increasing breathing and how needily his long fingers still hold his cock.

“I uhm, sorry. I wasn’t staring, I mean, I was but I- sorry, I uhm, I’m gonna leave now”, you stutter and turn to leave.

“Help me.” 

You halt, wobbling slightly because he is making your knees buckle. You turn around, dancing your eyes over his body.

“Sorry?” 

“Help me. Please”, he begs and tugs at his cock weakly, biting down on his lower lip as he does. Look at the needy kitten eyes he is making at you. 

“Really?” you get out, feeling dizzy at the view. You want to ruin this man. You really do.

He nods his head, lowering his eyes at you. He is taunting you as much as he is begging you.

You do not bother to take off your clothes, he only has to nod his head twice and then you are already in the shower, eating him up with just your eyes. 

Yoongi cups your face and kisses you. He mewls needily as he does it, sucking on your lips and tongue more than he actually kisses you. It is so lazy, so slow and yet so intensely passionate. He is so lost in you, so entirely addicted to your taste that he is solely running on it. Whatever he fantasised about before really did it to him. You feel up his torso hungrily, moaning at the delicious taste of him.

He is shivering with each touch, chasing the feeling of you with wiggles of his hips which force his cock to grind against your clothed stomach. The fabric of your hoodie feels rough against his sensitive tip. He craves the silkiness of your skin like plants crave sunlight.

He breaks the kiss with a sigh of your name, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I was bad”, he breathes.

“You were?” you are kneading his waist, staring at his flushed face with hazy eyes.

“Yeah. Thought of you ‘til I got needy”, he rasps and mewls quietly, mouthing at the tip of your nose, “touched myself to you.”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Punish me.” 

“Punish you?” 

“Please.”

You step back and pick up his cock so you could slap his tip. Gently for now, to test the waters. 

Yoongi moans loudly, squeezing your cheeks softly. His knees buckle slightly.

“Like this, mhm?” you ask, slapping him again. Soft. Careful. Get him used to it. Or needy for more. You are fine with both options as long as it ends in your boyfriend panting and needy.

He scrunches his face in pleasure, letting out a shaky “mh-hm” before he follows it up with a breathy, “don’t stop please.” 

“Fuck Yoongi, you’re driving me insane. You’re so hot.”

“I’m a bad slut”, he croaks.

“Yeah, the fucking worst. Bad slut, such a bad slut”, you growl, giving him harsh spanks. Now that you know he wants it, you are so happy to give it to him.

He takes each of your spanks with a blissed moan and a twitch of his cock. His pink tip got so much pinker ever since you started playing with him. His chest is flushed as well, looking so untouched.

You take his heavy cock between your fingers and pick up his favourite rhythm. Then you step closer to litter his chest with kisses. Wet and sloppy. You need to mark his skin as yours and taste him in the process.

Yoongi arches his back, dropping his head against the glass behind him. Your name slips past his lips, his hands grab your waist and squeeze. 

“You’re a bad slut, Yoongi love, but you’re such a pretty slut at that”, you rasp and take his left nipple between your teeth. You tug on it, making him moan. You suck on it, making him mewl. You lick it, making him sigh your name.

He is tender there. Just as you said.

And as you give him heaven with just your mouth, your hands are busy feeling him up. Your right hand fucks his cock like it deserves to be fucked, while your left hand feels up his waist and hips. He fits so perfectly between your fingers. It is like he is made to be touched by you and only you. His skin is so soft and warm, leaving behind wetness on your fingertips from the previous shower. His cock is twitching so cutely in your hold.

You lift your lips from his right nipple after worshiping it as well, tilting your head so you are looking at his pretty face. You cup his pink cheek.

“Look at me.”

Yoongi obeys, fluttering his lashes at you. He is breathing so heavily, gazing at you as if you were his fucking everything.

“You’re a pretty slut. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods his head, choking out a shy “yeah.”

“You do. Good. Don’t forget it, kitten”, you order and slow your hand around his tip. It sits between your fingers. You increase the pressure slightly and move your hand again. Just a little, just enough that he’s getting fucked so good.

Yoongi gasps, widening his eyes for just a second before rolling them back.

“No, no look at me.”

Yoongi obeys with a mewl of your name.

“That’s better. I wanna look at your pretty eyes.”

“I have to cum”, he moans.

“Cause you’re looking at me?”

He nods his head, leaking all over your palm, “can’t hold it…like…this.”

“God, you lovedrunk slut, you”, you tease, giving his favourite spot a good rub.

“Please”, he begs, “please, can I cum?”

“Mhhm, don’t know. Do you deserve it?”

“Please I, mghm, I’ll give you head later”, he bargains with the prettiest kitten eyes.

“Obviously, you’re gonna do that anyways. Do better, Yoongi slut”, you warn, slowing down dangerously.

“Please”, he begs louder and thrusts his hips into your fist. 

It earns him a harsh spank, “behave.”

“Fuck please. I-I’ll cockwarm you, promise I, I won’t move. Please.” 

“But Yoongi, where is the fun in that? I’ll do that anyways. You know that bad, dirty jerk off sluts get cockwarmed”, you coo as your skilled fingers torture his flushed tip. He is burning up, smearing his precum all over your digits. 

“I have to cum so bad”, he croaks and spills tears, “please can I cum? I’ll be so good please.” 

“Fine. You can cum”, you say calmly even if your hand is giving his cock such a good fuck. He didn’t convince you, you just simply have a better way to ruin him how he so clearly craves.

“___”, he moans and closes his eyes sensually. Moments later, his swollen cock releases all over your hand. His knees buckle, he finds support by grabbing your shoulders and arching his back. His moan is loud and drawn-out.

“Look at you”, you moan with him, speeding up your hand now that he is giving you such a good show, “good slut, cum for me. That’s my good slut.”

Yoongi is shaking and trembling in bliss, but soon begins shaking and trembling for other reasons. You aren’t slowing down. His balls are empty, his cock so overstimulated, but you aren’t slowing down. You jerk off his cock as if it has a debt to pay, giving him burning heaven in the process. 

He finally realises what he signed up for and that your sweet words were nothing but deception. He didn’t convince you. You aren’t done with him. One wasn’t enough. 

“Please, please, pl-please”, he begs, trying to flee you as much as chases you. 

“One more, kitten. Give me one more.” 

“I can’t. Oh god, I can’t”, he mewls and stumbles as he tries to flee.

You grab him and pin him against the glass harshly, knocking a weak gasp out of him. His knees buckle, his teary eyes gaze at you with all the devotion he can muster. He loves when you’re rough with him, when you show him that he is yours to manhandle.

“Give me more”, you growl, speeding up around his cock.

“No please”, Yoongi mewls and tries to wiggle away just so you can put him back in his place. He parts his legs, hoping that you take the silent hint.

You do. Of course you do. You lift your knee against his balls hard enough that it hurts. Yoongi folds into himself with a pained moan, grabbing your waist. He is already so fucking hard again, throbbing in your hand as if he never released before. 

“Stop fleeing me”, you growl and knee him again, twisting your hand around his burning tip at the same time. 

Yoongi sobs, burying his face in your shoulder. It hurts so much. He has never been so fucking high on pleasure before. It feels so good. Yoongi swears every second is the best second he ever experienced.

“Understood? You do not flee me”, you give his tender balls one last harsh nudge with your knee, then grab his hair to pull his head back. 

He coughs out a sob, spilling tears and drool all down his pretty face. He can barely even keep his eyes open, let alone stop them from crossing. 

He is so pretty. 

“What’s with that pretty face?” you challenge, pumping his overstimulated cock quickly as you grind your knee against his balls at the same time. 

“Yours”, he croaks.

“That’s right. Mine. My pretty slut.”

“You’re making me cum.” 

“See? I knew you could give me more. Don’t hold back, slut.”

“Knee. Please.” 

You knee him a fourth time. Yoongi wails up, folding into himself in both pain and pleasure before spilling all over your hoodie and his stomach. So his balls weren’t empty yet. Of course they weren’t. You are proving to him how much of a slut he actually is.

He melts into you, shaking on your knee as your name leaves him like his prayer of bliss.

“Good slut, give me everything. Such a good slut. That’s so much better, I knew one wasn’t enough. Your pretty balls are never empty after only one. That’s it. Good slut”, you talk him through it, holding him safely as your hand milks him dry.

Soon Yoongi slacks into you, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements.

“No more.”

You don’t listen just to tease him, giving his burning tip a tight massage. He trembles and writhes, squeezing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You are going to stop, but first you need to tease him just a little more. A few more squeezes and rubs, a little pump and tug.

“Please”, he begs breathily, wiggling his hips away from you.

“You’re so cute”, you coo and finally drop his ruined cock.

“Thank you”, he sighs and sinks into you, hugging you tightly as he recovers.

You hug him back, tracing his spine.

“How was that, mhm?” you ask him, speaking in a soft voice.

He nods his head slowly, humming. 

“Yeah? Was it good for you?” 

“Was perfect”, he lulls and purrs contently, “thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh god, I need to lie down now”, he says and chuckles, “my balls are so fucking tender.”

“I can imagine. I kicked them really hard. Are you okay? Should I get something for the pain?”

He shakes his head, “you did it so right. Thank you so much.”

You smile, “that’s good to hear. You’re such a good boy.”

Yoongi nuzzles his nose against your neck and purrs softly, melting under your praise. You know exactly how to love him.

“I love you so much”, he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

“I actually wanna lie down though.”

You chuckle, “okay, okay let’s get you cleaned up and cozy. You’re gonna get back scratches in bed”, you say as you lead him to the shower head.

“And ear rubs.”

“And ear rubs. As my prince wishes”, you say and turn on the water to wash away the mess he left. Yes, you will change into different clothes, “how’s the temperature, love?”

“Good. Nice.”

“Yeah? Is it good how I’m touching you?” you ask as you clean his cock and balls with gentle fingers.

He nods his head, “hm.”

“Good. God, Yoongi love, you’re so handsome.” 

Yoongi blushes, lowering his eyes shyly. Yeah, you definitely know how to love him.

[beenbaanbuun]

romance tropes i associate w/ ateez:

this is not proofread or formatted because i was supposed to start getting ready to leave my apartment half an hour ago and now i’m rushing lmaooo. i’ll proofread and format it when i get back from the knocked loose gig 🫶

seonghwa -bridesmaid and bestman

it’s your sisters wedding and everything is going great, except for the fact that you haven’t spoken to a single person for the past 45 minutes

you can’t help but feel a little lonely as you sit in the corner and bulldoze your way through the bottle of wine you’ve been left alone with

and then you feel a soft tap on your shoulder, and the familiar sound of a chair being dragged against the wooden floor rings through the room

you spin around just in time to see the groom’s best friend sitting down beside you, empty wine glass in hand

“nice ceremony, wasn’t it?” he says as he grabs the wine bottle and begins to pour himself a generous helping

you hum in response as you tilt your own glass towards him - he takes the hint and fills it for you

“my sister looks so pretty,” you say, and the man in front of you nods along

“not as pretty as the maid of honour, though,” he responds, “i couldn’t quite believe it when i spotted her all alone in the corner with no one taking care of her.”

you giggle in response to his obvious flirting - two can play at that game

“so you decided to come and snatch me up for yourself, did you?”

he nods with a straight face, but you can see the teasing glint in his eye

“of course,” he responds, “i’m not leaving your side until i’ve either got a dance from you, or i have your number in my phone.”

he smiles wide at you, and you can’t help but smile back

“well you’re handsome enough for me to consider giving you both,” he chuckles at your words, “but the question is which one do you want first?”

he offers you his hand

“i think i’ll take the dance.”

hongjoong - blind date

it seems your mum has finally grown fed up of you showing up to every family event empty handed

which is precisely how you end up standing outside one of the most notoriously expensive restaurants in your neighbourhood

it’s where your blind date suggested, and despite your incessant denial, your mother had accepted on your behalf

you walk inside, a sour look on your face as the host steps forward to ask for your reservation

“i think his name was hongjoong?” you sigh, “he told me to meet him here at 8 for a blind date…”

the woman’s eyes go wide and she smiles at you, the words ‘lucky bitch’ falling from her tongue before she can even stop them

“hardly,” you respond as she guides you through the fancy place, “i don’t even want to be here…”

your voice trails off as she slows down and stops at a table with a man already seated on one of the chairs

you thank the woman as you sit down; she sends you a quick wink in return before darting off to no doubt gossip with the other staff members

and then you turn your attention to the man before you to see he’s already looking at you with wide eyes

“you’re my date?” he asks, to which you nod in response, “shit! when my friend set this up i wasn’t expecting someone so pretty.”

your face heats up at his compliment

“oh, uh, thank you,” you stutter out, “likewise, i guess. my mum organised it on my behalf; i thought it would be some stiff-necked guy that thinks too highly of himself.”

“you’re happy with me, then?” he smiles

“very happy…”

yunho - brothers best friend

“i don’t care that he’s here, i’m just asking why?” you whisper to your mum as you watch yunho and your brother mess around in the pool

it’s spring break, and whilst you certainly don’t mind the addition of the tall dancer, you hadn’t been allowed to bring a friend of your own

“it was last minute honey,” you mum replies, “his parents are half-way through a divorce and i wanted to help take his mind off of it!”

you suppose that’s as good of a reason as any, but that still feel cheated

suddenly you hear a yell from the water, and a whole load of splashing; you turn your attention to the pool to see yunho swimming to your brother who has a hand covering his nose

“nosebleed?” your mum called over to the boys; they nod, “i know where the first aid kit is. come on!”

your brother climbs out of the pool and follows your mum inside, leaving the pool area in an awkward silence

“you know you’re never going to get a tan sitting in the shake like that,” yunho breaks it with a laugh, “you should move to this subbed over here.”

you quirk your brow at him as you see him point to the one right by the pool

“you mean the one that gives you access to stare at me?”

he shrugs, “i’m just looking out for you, kiddo.”

you scoff at the nickname; he’s always called you that despite the age gap being almost non-existent

“don’t call me that when you’re flirting with me, yun.”

“why?” he says with a smirk, “would you rather i called you baby?”

yeosang - soulmates

it had been a slow morning in the cafe, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it had given you a lot of time to think about your soulmate mark which is burning where it sits on your wrist

KYS, it reads, which you would find funny if it was scrawled on someone else’s wrist

the subreddit you’d spent most of your morning surreptitiously scrolling through says it means you’ll meet your soulmate soon

you’ll believe that when you see it…

“‘scuse me?” a voice rips you out of your mindless doomscrolling and you quickly put a smile on your face and look up at the man at the counter

your sure your smile looks more like a grimace with how bad the mark has started burning on your wrist

“welcome,” you stutter out, “what can i get for you?”

he studies the menu which gives you the perfect opportunity to study the pretty man in front of you

you can’t help but notice his hand gripping at his opposite wrist in the exact same place your own soul mark it hurting

“an americano,” he eventually stutters out, “iced and medium, please.”

you nod, grabbing a cup and a marker pen, “can i take a name?”

“yeosang,” he replies and your soul mark burns even more, “but you can just write KYS if it’s easier.”

you pause for a second; was the subreddit right?

“KYS?” you mutter to yourself, “this sounds crazy, but can i show you something?”

he shrugs and you take it as an ‘okay’, so you tug up your sleeve to reveal the three letters on your arm

san - strangers-to-lovers

the gym, also known as your own personal hell; it’s funny that you’ve somehow ended up there in a saturday morning

you’re not even sure how in all honesty, and as you stare into the vast space filled with nothing but men and metal, you feel a little intimidated

still, it’s too late to turn back now so you take a few unsure steps into the room, halting at a piece of equipment that looks more like a torture device

“how the-” you mutter to yourself, but get cut off when a tall man walks up beside you

“are you using this thing?” he asks, and you turn your attention to him, “it’s just its next in my routine, but i don’t mind waiting if you’re already using it.”

you shake your head as you stare at him, feeling a little more than slightly intimidated

he’s tall, buff and hot, not to mention that he clearly knows what he’s doing in the gym

“you can go,” you stutter, “i, uh, i’m not too sure how to use it myself; i’m new to all this.”

his face light up at your confession, the stoic expression melting into something sweeter, more excited

“you’re serious?” he beams at you, “that’s so cool! i’m proud of you for starting your gym journey.”

you shrug, not really knowing how to reply; the man seems to have no issue carrying on the conversation for you, though

“my names san,” he sticks out a hand which you take out of politeness, “if you want you can take my number; i’m here most days so if you ever want someone to work out with…”

you think it over for a few seconds before deciding ‘what the hell?’ the man is attractive and seems genuinely enthusiastic to get to know you

might as well get something positive out of this whole gym thing, right?

mingi - fake boyfriend

you’d always spend winter break alone, which was never a pleasant thing when spending the season with your family

this year, however, you decided things would be different

it turns out a friend of a friend wasn’t actually going home for the holidays

and with the promise of free food he was actually pretty easy to convince to be your pretend boyfriend for the season

you spent days upon days creating some sort of believable story to tell your family, as well as learning everything there is to know about eachother

the plan was seamless, and on your first evening in your family home, the two of you had done a spectacular job at convincing your entire family

but there was just one little detail the two of you hadn’t foreseen, and now as you stand in your room it finally sinks in

“i can sleep on the floor,” you suggest, “you take the bed; you’re the guest, afterall.”

mingi shakes his head

“i might be a guest, but i’m still a gentleman,” he refuses, and you can’t help but laugh

“i’ve learned enough about you to know that you are anything but a gentleman, mingi.”

“well you’re hardly a perfect little princess yourself,” he can’t help but chuckle in response

you hum in agreement, but soon fall back into silence as you try and work out some sort of solution to the one-bed problem

“we could just share?” you suggest after a second or two

he cocks his brow at you

“you’d be okay with that?” you just shrug in response before crawling into your bed and patting the mattress next to you

“come on in before i change my mind.”

wooyoung - rivals-to-lovers

you stare at the F at the top of your page, a flurry of emotions rushing through you

you’d never gotten anything below a C before and now all of a sudden you’ve failed?

sure you’d taken a little bit of a backseat when you were studying for this exam, but you were almost certain you knew enough of the material to at least get a B

yet you’d failed

you feel a presence walk up behind you and you sigh; you’d recognise the sound of those cocky little footsteps anywhere

“i’m not in the mood, wooyoung,” you grumble, hoping it would deter your rival for just a little while

“why not?” he teases as he walks up beside you, “are you really that sure i’ve beaten you?”

you don’t reply, but by the way he gasps, you can tell he’s already caught sight of your failure; you sigh, waiting for what’s about to come

“you… failed?” his voice is soft, not an ounce of teasing in his tone, “dude, that’s- i- are you alright?”

perhaps it’s the lack of cruelness in his voice, you’re not sure, but you feel the need to be vulnerable with him

“not really,” you shake your head, “i don’t know what happened.”

an awkward hand finds its way to your shoulder, fingers lightly tapping a pattern against your back

“i can help you if you want?” he suggests, “like, i don’t know, tutor you or something?”

you finally look at him, purely to check whether or not he’s joking

his face is serious though, and that kind of stumps you

“why would you do that for me?” he just shrugs

“i like our little rivalry,” if you look closely you can see a dusting of pink over his cheeks, “i think it’s cute when you get all angry at me for beating you, or when you’re all smug when you do better… we can’t have that if you’re getting F’s.”

jongho - friends-to-lovers

you walk out of your exam with a frown on your face; saying that it went bad would be an understatement

all you want to do is crawl up into a ball and forget about life for a while, but then you spot him

“jongho,” you yell, pulling his attention away from his phone

with a grin he slides it into his back pocket, opening his arms for you to give him a running hug

you take the opportunity, slamming into his chest at full force; he wastes no time in folding his arms around you

“how’d it go?” he asks as he begins to sway your conjoined bodies from side to side

“oh, it went horribly,” you admit, “i’m going to go home and eat an obscene amount of ice cream to make me feel better.”

he nods at your suggestion

“you could,” he agrees, “or we could go to that one cafe and pretend to get engaged so we get free desert?”

you can’t help but look up at him with furrowed brows

“engaged?” you cant lie that the idea makes your heart flutter, “what happened to the birthday meta?”

it’s a valid question; the two of you normally go to a cafe and tell the staff it’s your birthday so you can share the desert

engagement is a new one, but you’re willing to hear him out

“well,” he begins, face falling into full seriousness, “if you think about it, we only get one desert when we use the birthday meta; my hypothesis is that we get two deserts if we claim we’re engaged.”

you consider his reply for a few seconds

“fair argument,” you hum, “counterpoint; do you not think they’ll give us just the one desert for ‘romantic’ purposes? you know, feed each other with a spoon, type shit.”

jongho just shrugs

“i’m fine with that if you are.”

[satorusplayplace]

gojo never wanted you to leave. honestly, he would’ve made you stay if he could. god he misses your smell, your touch, the food you would cook, whenever you came home late and he was already home and you melted into his arms because of how tired you were. he missed you so god damn much. but why did he fuck this up? why does he always fuck up everything that’s good for him?

“seriously satoru?” he hears while laying in bed, his eyes are red and puffy, he’s holding a piece of her clothing, her favorite shirt. he didn’t even want to look up.

“satoru, get the fuck up.” he looks up, his hair a mess, he hasn’t shaved in a while, so a little stubble is growing. his eyes have eyebags, they are so red and puffy, she can’t see his pretty blue eyes.

“satoru, i just only said we needed a break. i didn’t say we broke up. i said i’ll be back in a week!!!” she yells and cuddles into him trying to get him to smile.

“but-but you looked so mad and i couldn’t. i thought this was the end. you scared me. i hate you.” he sobbed between his words, making her want to cry but she didn’t. she rubs his back and starts to kiss his cheek.

“oh my big baby, what am i going to do without you? i love you so much satoru. we just needed a tiny break, especially me. that argument had me thinking about our lives, what should we do better and i just, i needed time to think by myself honey. i just wanna know what do you think about getting marr-“ immediately she gets cut off by the white haired man saying, “yes. i wanna marry you. i wanna have kids with you. i wanna do everything with you.” he turns around throwing her favorite shirt somewhere resulting with her hitting him lightly on the shoulder, he cuddles into her.

“well, surprisingly! i can fulfill one of those sentences right now.” she pulls out something from a bag she was carrying. satoru looks at the pregnancy test and get stares. his eyes start to fill with tears again.

“you’re gonna be a mom? and i’m gonna be a dad? we’re gonna have a baby? we’re going to be parents? babe.” he couldn’t handle his excitement, he hugged her and started to kiss her everywhere.

“first we need this house cleaned. what the fuck were you thinking? did you not think i would come back? you should’ve been ready for me. you don’t have our house cleaned! i will make you scrub the toliet with just a toothbrush satoru.” her voice gets stern and he shot up in the bed and started to clean.

in the end, no matter what they go through. they will always stay together. y/n is his sun, while satoru is the moon. in the end, she will shine bright for him while he will shine bright in the shadows for her.

—

hey guys! i wanted to try a new format! so this is just a little drabble :) but yeah! i’m gonna start trying new formats. this was to get my brain in gear again because i want to write all the requests and get them done :) but here’s a little something to keep you entertained! i want to do a gojo x pregnant!reader series soon so i guess here’s a sneak peak of what’s in my mind?