#this could even been one of the higher end collabs too

[flameshadowwolf]

Just came to the realization that the first company that collabs with Dungeon Meshi to produce dinnerware/kitchenware will strike a gold mine.

They’ll take all of my fucking money so quickly

I hope there’s a dragon on a plate

[goxjo]

! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER

+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.

so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?

+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.

+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI

+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab

♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!

He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.

“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.

“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.

They needed to restrain your arms and legs to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”

“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.

Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice. 

Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.

Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.

“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”

“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.

They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.

What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.

The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.

“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.

“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”

“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”

“Herself?” Suguru teases.

Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”

“Not one bit.”

“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.

“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”

Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?

Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.

“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.

Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”

“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.

“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.

“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”

“Want her to want me.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”

Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.

The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.

“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”

Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.

She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.

“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.

Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.

Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.

…

Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”

Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.

Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.

He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.

His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.

Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.

“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.

With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”

Fuck.

Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”

Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.

With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.

Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.

Fuck.

“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.

His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—

“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”

Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.

“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.

“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”

“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”

He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.

“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place. 

“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”

And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.

“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”

Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.

His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.

“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”

You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.

“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”

“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.

He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.

You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.

“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.

“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru chuckles. More to himself.

“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.

...

"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."

"Shut up."

—

Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.

“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”

“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.

“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.

“A big one, too,” he adds.

“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”

Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."

“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[celestialtarot11]

Collab! Who were you in a past life? 👀🙈

Hi friends! Both me and @mercurialstime have decided to do an awesome collab on past lives! We ended up channeling such unique, and specific messages for each pile. So if you feel drawn to more than 1, that’s understandable! This time we’ll have 6 piles to choose from, spirit/universe was spitting facts in this one. Its pretty chunky, so feel free to grab a drink or a snack! Feel free to like, comment, reblog and support our blogs <3 @mercurialstime was amazing to collab with and we had some funny moments!

──────────────────────────────────── ──────────

Pick an Image:

Pile 1: 🎥👻 Channeled by the lovely @mercurialstime ! I'm sensing that some of you guys were in a position where you have to deal with a lot of people, but not in a sense where people came to you for a clear objectives like business people would do, instead people would just interacted with you with so much vagueness. Their message were implicitly said, their behavior were a thoughtful code, it was a politics themed community. However, I feel that even though there were so much politics elements here, I don't feel a lot power struggle happening. Maybe you were born of a nobility, a duke or duchess, marquis or marquess, baron or baroness, but it's leaning more to the female counterpart. You subconsciously accepted the fate that you won't get to be the heiress and focused on socializing more, and you're even excited for that. I feel a lot of naivety here, your servant might talked about you a lot, your teacher might criticized you, but you were not noticing any of that. Some other womans of nobility were testing you, but your naivety failed you to read the situation, and so you were quickly left by them, making you an outcast, and again, you didn't even seems to realize that you were an outcast. I see 2 woman were sticking together with you because they were an outcast too, for different reason though, probably due to lower rank or the shortfall of their family. Maybe your family had higher rank than theirs, or maybe your family had a special irreplaceable role or reputation. The thing is that they bear with you so much despite the inner turmoils they feel due to your mindless words or actions. If you feel that in this life you keep having a countless lessons about communication and emphaty, sometimes ironically due to other's words and actions which hurt you, this is your confirmation.

Pile 2: 💭🤍 Hi there pile 2’s! Channeled by the one and only, @celestialtarot11 Enjoy :) It feels like you guys were the first child of the family you were born into! Very happy and precious time. I do believe your parents could’ve been spiritual, they could’ve been Christian. You could’ve been baptized as well in your past life. Maybe in this lifetime you study different religions and cultures, the organization of them. You study them in a philosophical way. But back to your past, your other world, I see that there was an incident that changed your life significantly. It caused to to relocate or move away from family. This could’ve been a divorce, separation with the parents. For some of you, you found a wife or someone to settle down with and it lead to many marriage issues. This person played a big role in your life, and could’ve been the one that got away. I did hear in this lifetime you’ve dealt with people like this past person, even though they were literally on your past life. It seems like lessons like this come up, abandonment or fear of rejection. You could’ve been a medium in a past life and offered spiritual readings as a way to cope with stress. I think you would’ve taken inspiration from your parents to do this, they seemed religious and you found a way to connect with others differently. It seems like your ability to communicate with spirit carried on in this lifetime too, so a lot of you could be clairvoyant/clairaudient! Alright Pile 2’s thats all I have, what an interesting lifetime :) thank you for all the support, feel free to like, reblog, and support both blogs!

Additional song channeled by @mercurialstime

Summer after highschool when we first met~

Pile 3: 💼🧉 Channeled by the lovely @mercurialstime ! Hard worker is what you were. You were so hard working in anything that you do, I'm seeing a small business, and even a farmer, a tailor, or is it that you're a farmer/tailor that sells your own harvests? Whatever it is, you do it so hard that there was barely time to rest. All that cause you need to provide for your family, I'm leaning more towards siblings here. You might had a lot of siblings in the past. I'm not seeing any parental figure, maybe they left, maybe they're dead. You were left to take care of your siblings, you were their only hopes. All the works you did, you did it with your siblings in mind, you really loved and cared for them. However, with all the farms/boutiques available back then, the business became the red ocean one. You couldn't sell your harvest/clothes with a proper price, sometimes they remained unsold even after few days/month. There were a deep grieve inside your heart, but even so, you still worked yourself off, telling yourself that you have no time for the grieve. The thing is that I got a sight of how you died. There was just that one time you were so out of focus due to all the tiredness and you accidentally hurt yourself while working. And all I'm seeing is that you finish your work before anything else. I'm not seeing any cure attempt made on your wound. Maybe there weren't any cure for it yet that time or maybe you just treat your wound by yourself, but whatever it is, I saw a black wounds. It could be a necrosis, that explains the thing about no cure for it yet. If in this life you happen to be born in a well off family or a family that puts little to none expectation that burden you, and yet you're still putting so much expectations for yourself, this might be a confirmation for you. Please do acknowledge that being born into your current family is probably a lesson for you to enjoy things and to bring balance into your life.

Pile 4: ☕️🫖 Channeled by the lovely @celestialtarot11 Yes thats me lol 🙈 I get the vibe that you guys were the middle child or the last child in the family! You could’ve been born in a huge family in a past life, and was raised in India, Pakistan or in Nepal. There’s such a cultural difference here and I love it. You could’ve had a bright outlook of the world at a young age, a curiosity. It never left you, I think even in this lifetime you carry it. I think there could’ve been a prominent father figure who loved to have fun with you in a past life, and was there to support you. He taught you how to make diya (if you’re not sure what this means, please search up diya in Indian culture) it seems like there is so much love and guidance here. He could be a spirit guide for you too in this lifetime, if you know of any masculine spirit guides! This father shaped your outlook of life, even though you were raised in poverty. It seems like although your family struggled financially, you set up a little market and began a business to help them. And you made bank 👀 you made your way to the top, and gained recognition. The canary spirit is an important spirit animal for you in this lifetime, so if have birds that aren’t a canary, they are important too! Im hearing you made a name for yourself in a past life and people really looked up to you. Im hearing you had an injury in a past life, like a broken leg, and it caused a detriment in your life. Its quite random, but maybe it might mean something to ya’ll reading this. Your mother could’ve been absent in childhood unfortunately. Alright pile 4’s, thats all i have for you 💗☺️ please feel free to comment, like, reblog and support our blogs!

Pile 5: ⛔️Channeled by @mercurialstime !

⚠️ Trigger warning ⚠️ mention of blood

I'm seeing blood trails with every steps that you took, it feels sticky. You might be a mercenary, also you might be a hunter. I'm seeing a wide grin. Perhaps that was your expression when you received a big offer or when you found a rare species when hunting. Maybe because what you did wasn't supported by the universe that you didn't really feel blessed. You might encountered a lot of problems. Yes, you did get a lot of money, but it's like those money came and went again due to those problems. I can see some of you got scammed and even got into debts here and there. You actually had a person who cared about you and warned you to stop doing such things. I feel like you also cared about them so that you always just walked away and ignored them, not wanting to hurt them if you argue back. There was some occasions where you snapped at them due to frustration. I think that growing up in poverty was what made you discard the idea of the divine and morality. I can see you scoff internaly at those ideas. Now, I don't kow how this message ends up to me, but you now might happen to be born as a minority in your region or it's what you belief that is a minority. I also see that some of you love animals so much that it really hurts you when seeing other people hurt them. If so, you can take this as a confirmation. I'm seeing that you are called to learn so hard on 9th house and a little 12th house things, to have a belief; to trust and defend your belief without taking down others' belief; but mainly it's about having some faith for the divine planning.

💭 Additional message: 💭

When I channeled to your reading, my battery was low, so I charged it for a while. Just when the battery is enough to continue, I fell asleep. When I woke up and about to continue channeling, the wifi was so troubled that I wait for a while before continuing. Not to mention the amount of typos I made was so amazing. It was first meant to be the message where "Maybe because what you did wasn't supported by the universe that you didn't really feel blessed. You might encountered a lot of problems. Yes, you did get a lot of money, but it's like those money came and went again due to those problems." When I finished the channeling and about to save the draft, the wifi went down again and the draft was lost even when I have refreshed so many time. Therefore, I really need to warn you if this pattern happens to be recurring in your life, maybe not about money, but relationship or career or anything, it is not necessarily because you did something wrongly, but it might be just not what the universe have in store for you. Please stay tune to your intuition and don't ignore the signs. Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something. You might think that it's your only resort, but maybe you can try to have some faith. You know that wearing an underwear that doesn't fit your size would only bring you another problem to solve right?

Pile 6: Hi there pile 6’s! Enjoy your reading below, this one was a little silly 👀In a past life you could’ve been raised financially abundant and carried this legacy as you grew older. You could’ve participated in your families businesses I’m hearing. In Italy Verona is where you could’ve resided. Maybe you want to visit Europe one day in this lifetime. You helped your parents with the vineyard and the production of wine, so ya’ll were busy getting high 👀? Lmao just joking, you we’re dedicated and young, and your parents needed help managing the farm land. So you did a variety of work. You grew up surrounded by nature and wildlife. I do see that eventually managing this took a toll on you, since you had other passions and wanted to leave. You wanted to see the rest of the world, yet felt restricted to the home you grew up in. Your mother could’ve absolutely supported you, but the father did not. Since he wanted you to carry his legacy. He did very well in turning grapes into wine, I must say. Also Pile 6 you met an amazing person, whether this is a woman or guy. But I did hear Rosalina. Maybe this was her name in your past life. And maybe you currently know someone as Rose, Leah, or Lina. Or rosa. If not, that’s fine. You will meet them. This doesn’t only need to be a female. I see you did everything to escape this kind of life since you dedicated yourself to this person. You cared a lot, and met behind closed doors lol. Spirit is so cheeky. Anyway, you get the vibe. You two shared values, and wanted to leave hometown. It was almost like faith put you together to develop a plan to leave. And you did! Four of wands came out. You were able to have a happy life together ☺️ this is the sweetest thing. As for the dad…well we don’t know how he felt about that one. Mother could’ve been very happy to hear about your marriage. Im seeing letters she received from you about marriage, and she would cry and wipe with a tissue (you know how they did in the old days) anyway my pile 6’s! This is what I have for you. Please feel free to like, comment, reblog and support our blogs :) this one was an interesting one! Channeled by @celestialtarot11

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Thank you to everyone who supported and clicked on this collab! This was such a unique experience for us two @mercurialstime and I enjoyed it. We had no idea how this would work but we figured it out. Hope ya’ll have an amazing day/night! 👻🤍

Book a reading with me here 🤍

[aja154ever]

Bungo Stray Dogs Anime Stellar Radio Interview - 09/26/2023

Sharing some points from the Anime Stellar Radio Interview with Kadokawa Producer Kurakane Chiaki.

"Asagiri supervises everything."

Kurakane shares that sensei always comes to the anime script meetings and has never missed any, despite his busy schedule.

How Kadokawa met BSD

Kurakane's first encounter with BSD was when she saw it on the cover of Young Ace. The person next to her in the office brought the magazine and she just happened to see it. She was amazed and drawn to Harukawa's character design- its beauty and originality captivated her.

About the Character Design

In BSD, the "silhoutte" of a character is very important and distinctive- even if the drawing is just all black you can tell who the character is. When they selected the main illustrator for the anime, they had animators from Bones submit their pieces anonymously. The one whose silhoutte resembled Harukawa's the most turned out to be Nobuhiro Arai (current Character Designer and Chief Animation Director).

On Atsushi as a Character

The appeal of Atsushi as a character can be seen right from the first scene. Despite thinking that he would have to steal in order to live, upon seeing someone "drowning" in the river, he still chose to save them. He could not go against his good-natured heart and character.

Dazai's Treatment to Atsushi and Akutagawa

Regarding the difference in the treatment of Dazai to Atsushi and Akutagawa, Kurakane thinks that Dazai acts like that because he believes that that is the most effective and appropriate way for each of them. Well we don't really know what Dazai is thinking, and we may not agree with his ways especially with Akutagawa, but in the end it does make Akutagawa hold on to his life (despite having an illness) and strive to become stronger. Dazai may be seeing a bigger picture than all of us and probably in his own way, acting with the words of his late friend in mind.

BSD in Real Life

One of the most memorable characters for Kurakane is Shibusawa Tatsuhiko because they got to meet and even eat together with the real literary master's wife. She also mentions that in BSD collabs with literary museums, they also sometimes meet the relatives of other literary masters.

BSD: A Ten-year Project

The anime started around 7.5 years ago, but for them in the anime production team it actually started 9 years ago. Back then, Kurakane was asked by the company's higher-ups to create something that could continue on for 10 years.

With the main anime series, movies, stage plays, games, Wan! anime, collabs, etc. here and there, Kurakane felt like she's been running for 24h for 365 days, so in all honesty, now that the 5th season is finished, she just wants to sleep well and… play with her cat at home.

Kurakane is also one of the people behind the official Twitter account. She recalls that sometimes when she tweets something late at night (while not checking the time), some fans would leave comments worrying about the staff working too much.

Lily

Kurakane shares that of all the songs in BSD, "Lily" holds a special place in her heart because she remembers Kubodera Akira- Mori's first stage actor who died in suspected suicide- saying that he likes the song a lot.

About 「未了」 (Unfinished)

In "A Perfect Murder and Murderer", the last word on the manuscript of Yokomizo- a writer- which was wet with Mushitaro's tear, is 「了」, which means "finished". To give the BSD anime a more literary feel and tone, they chose to have the 「了」.

In a similar note, while the previous BSD stage plays always ended with 「閉幕」 ("end of play" or literally "closing of curtain"), the last play: Cannibalism used the word 「了」 instead, signifying that the BSD Stage Play, as a whole piece, is "finished".

What BSD Is

Kurakane shares that BSD screenwriter Enokido Yoji once said that if a story of how one becomes successful is what a Shonen manga is, then depicting the journey of a defeated person searching for their place in this world is what Literature is.

Those words really stuck with Kurakane like a guiding principle, and so no matter what media form they create BSD in, they strive to remain faithful to its root.

BSD is relatable, as it properly shows those troubles that anyone of us may be experiencing in our lives. This theme of "struggling"- which in itself is "living"- is what they strive to keep at the heart of BSD.

Future Plans

For now Kurakane can't really say anything about the future of the anime, but as they take a rest she hopes they come up with something good for BSD, in whatever form that may be. The only clear plans that they have right now are the Gakuen game, the expo, and some collabs with museums.

BSD Media Timeline

Asagiri-sensei, Harukawa-sensei, and all the staff of BSD have done so much for us for the past decade. We really should appreciate their hard work more! Please support the official accounts and releases as much as possible!

I’m no longer active on tumblr nowadays, so you may follow me on twitter instead @harukaja15

My translations on tumblr are compiled under the tag #bsd translation and #my works

[smashboxgirl26]

i feel stupid (and contagious)

college student! dabi x fem! bass player! reader summary: “concerts” for random bands at little bars weren’t exactly dabi’s scene — though a cute bassist might make up for it. part of: @deartouya 's love in the everyday collab!! (apologies i know it took soooo long ;-:) contains: drinking (they're old enough!), general kind of fluff with meet cutes!! word count: 4.9k masterlist

“Concerts” for random bands at little bars weren’t exactly Dabi’s scene.

Their music usually sucked, for one, when they decided to play original songs instead of covers, which was often. The price of a simple bottle of beer was higher since the bar would try to take advantage of the influx of people—since college kids (other than himself) thought it was cool and underground to go see some randos they’d never heard of. And the people were assholes, more than usual at the very least, which he decided he could determine as a resident asshole himself. 

So no, Dabi didn’t end up in the crowd of this “concert” on purpose, being forced to rub elbows with a bunch of strangers while trying to take a sip of his beer. He’d been invited there by his friends to his favorite bar for his birthday, and now he was stuck in the crowd without a table since they all texted that they were going to be late.

(“You need more than one person in your party to be seated at a table, sir,” the hostess had said all the while trying to pretend like she wasn’t staring at Dabi’s tattoos and piercings before directing him towards the bar. 

As if he could give a shit about what she thought.)

The couple smushed right next to him looked like they were ready to jump each other’s bones; they’d bumped into his arm at least five times now as they continued making out, and Dabi grimaced as he tried to scooch away from the saliva-monsters with fail since there was no where he could’ve gone.

At that point, he wasn’t even sure why he hadn’t just blown the whole thing off when it’d already been twenty minutes and his friends hadn’t arrived. He’d been fine hanging out by the bar, but he should’ve suspected something was up when there were more people coming in than usual—he’d just chalked it up to it being a busier-than-normal Friday night. 

Stupid.

Honestly, he should’ve just left when he’d gotten the chance but now it was too crowded to try and push his way out and his phone was constantly buzzing with his “friends” telling him they were almost there.

He couldn’t do much but suck it up and deal with it, at that point. Maybe try and hope the stupid band that was playing was relatively good and that they wouldn’t make him want to claw his ears out. And if they sucked, well, he could just try and hope that he could escape before his friends forced him to stay and make his ears bleed.

Suddenly the crowd was cheering, and Dabi strained his eyes over the crowd to catch the band as they made their way onto the makeshift stage at the back of the bar. Even the couple aggressively making out next to him stopped in their shenanigans as the girl screamed at the top of her lungs—just to the sound of microphone feedback when the lead singer tapped on the mic.

Dabi flinched away from them, deciding to push himself forward in the crowd; he didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever they decided to do next.

“We’re Blood in the Water!” the guy standing at the front of the stage called out before the bar was drowned in more cheers: apparently these people were quite well known. “Thanks for joining us tonight—we hope you all enjoy!” 

That was all it took for him to nod to the drummer sitting behind him to count off the beat, before they jumped straight into Learn to Fly by the Foo Fighters.

Though Dabi hated to admit it, he found himself nodding along to the song, his foot tapping to the beat as the words came out of his lips in habit. They weren’t shitty and he had to commend them for that, even if he was still pissed at the fact he’d been forced to be there in the first place; and it was easy for him to fall into the music as their set went on.

(You couldn’t blame him for actually enjoying the music they played if they were actually good—better than he’d ever admit if he ever did. Not to mention their song choice was impeccable.)

The energy the band was putting into their performance was addicting, especially with the way the crowd around him was responding: shouting the lyrics out at the top of their lungs and jumping on top of each other at fast–paced songs in their excitement, though he was sure there was also a mosh pit somewhere in the middle. The main singer continued to encourage this behavior as he jumped and danced while singing into his mic, but Dabi’s eyes couldn’t help but slide over to the base player standing towards the side of the stage.

You Shook Me All Night Long had her hopping on the balls of her feet as she sang out the chorus with the rest of the band while Teenagers had her headbanging as hard as she probably could while she took on the solo instead of the guitar. Something about her was alluring, and it only seemed to get better when she jumped into the middle of the mosh pit while still playing along to All the Small Things.

It was only during Come as You Are that Dabi was reminded what’d actually happened and why he was actually there, when a tap on his shoulder had him whirling around to find Himiko beaming at him and waving to join the table. 

(As it turned out, everyone had arrived at the same time. How convenient.)

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself out there,” she gave a sly smile while dragging him towards their table.

“They weren’t shit,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m allowed to enjoy non-horrible music.”

“Yeah, but you seemed to be specifically enjoying Y/N’s presence,” he heard her snicker.

Who is she talking about? Is that the bassist?

“What?”

“Don’t lie,” she smirked as they reached the table. “I saw you staring at her, all wide eyed and smiley.”

“Who’s got Dabi smiley?” Tomura looked up from the Nintendo Switch stuck in his grasp, an eyebrow raising as he scooted across the seat after Toga shooed him over the booth so she could sit next to Jin.

“No one,” Dabi rolled his eyes, ignoring the snickering stare Toga was giving him as he stuck himself in the booth next to Tomura. 

“Dabi’s in looooveee,” Himiko sang, ignoring the death glare Dabi was pointing straight after. 

Sometimes he really did wish looks could kill.

“Love?” Jin turned to him with surprise. “You should’ve told me! I hate love.”

“Shut it,” Dabi sneered. “No one’s in love. I was just listening to the music.”

“I knew you would enjoy them!” Himiko cheered. “Sooo, how did you like my birthday present?”

He should’ve known it was planned.

“It was fine,” he rolled his eyes. “...thank you.”

“I half expected him to be gone by the time we got here,” Tomura mused, taking a sip from his beer bottle. 

“If they played shittily, I would’ve.”

 “Y/N’s super good!” Himiko interrupted. “I wouldn’t have planned this all out if they sucked.”

“...who’s Y/N again?” Tomura looked to her boredly.

“She’s the bassist of course,” she chattered on. “I met her in literature last semester, and she’s super nice. We were partners for this project because we sat near each other and she was really fun! Plus, she’s like, really good at writing so she helped me with my final project and I got an A! Isn’t that so sweet of her? And after that we both–”

“Okay we get it,” he waved her off, his attention turning back to Dabi. “She’s got you smiley?” 

“No,” Dabi scoffed. “She’s just good at bass. I was just admiring her–”

“Liar,” she interrupted once more. “He was staring, like full-on-focused on her. He didn’t even know I was–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi glared at her once more. 

(The whole conversation was getting on his nerves. Why was he getting picked on for admiring her skills? They wouldn’t do the same for Tomura.

It was probably just because it was his birthday. His stupid, fucking birthday that he never even celebrated till now.)

“Don’t be rude to Himi!” Jin slammed down his bottle, a finger accusingly pointed towards Dabi.

Himiko was only laughing at the whole display, cackling as she rocked back and forth —Jin calmed down in an instant, seeing as she wasn’t actually being threatened and Dabi only rolled his eyes. 

“Remind me how I know you people again,” he groaned, trying to get the last sip out of his beer bottle before standing up from the booth. “Fuck I need another beer.”

“Get me one too please,” Himiko smiled before going back to whatever game she was playing with Jin. 

He didn’t have much of a choice, only rolling his eyes as he stumbled back towards the counter through the growing crowd of people.

You were playing Smells Like Teen Spirit, and judging by the energy you and the rest of the band were putting into the performance, it was probably the last song of the set. Basic—but you played well enough that it wasn’t a negative point. 

“Two beers!” Dabi shouted when he got to the bar counter, in hopes that the bartender might be able to hear him through the blasted music and the crowd screaming at the top of their lungs. 

The bartender nodded (though Dabi wasn’t sure if he actually understood what he said) before turning around and busying himself at the back — leaving Dabi to watch the stage as the last few notes rang out, the crowd erupting into cheers as the band thanked everyone for coming to watch. You smiled sweetly at the crowd, waving wildly before you all jumped off the stage to be mobbed by the people who were on the floor. 

“Here!” the bartender shouted over the chatter, pushing the bottles towards Dabi over the wooden counter. 

Dabi was still looking over to where the crowd was gathered at the bottom of the stage, where you and the rest of the band had gotten off.

“She’s hot, isn’t she?” The bartender grabbed Dabi’s attention when he went to grab the bottles.

“Who?” Dabi stared at him.

“The bassist,” he pointed back towards the crowd. “Saw you were staring.”

“Nah,” Dabi waved him off. “Just thought she was a good player.”

The bartender only snorted in response before he was called over to the other side of the bar. Dabi chose to roll his eyes and ignore him instead as he stumbled through the crowd back to the small booth they were sitting in. 

Only, there was someone new at the table.

“Dabi, look who joined us,” Toga smiled as he placed the bottle down on the table for her to take.

Sure enough, you were sitting right beside her—squished into their little booth of ragtags as if you’d been a part of the group the entire time. 

And fuck, you were prettier up close. All glossed lips and doe eyes as you clung to Himiko’s arm. 

Dabi almost forgot that he had to say anything until he caught Tomura giving him his stupid, cracking, dry smirk.

“Nice to meet you,” he nodded as he dipped down to scooch Tomura over in his spot. 

“You’re Dabi, right?” you smiled. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 “You know Y/N,” Himiko looked his way slyly. “It’s Dabi’s birthday today.”

“Oh,” you looked surprised. “Uh, happy birthday.”

“And guess what else Y/N? My birthday present to him was your performance. And Dabi’s like, superrrr picky about what music he likes but he said he really liked your guys’ band—and he especially thinks that you’re super good at bass!”

 Dabi almost spat out the beer he’d just sipped, settling for choking on it instead as he watched Tomura snicker from the side even as he patted his back to help him soothe it down. A glare settled over his features as he stared in Toga’s direction, though she paid no mind as she continued chattering on with you.

“Uh, yeah,” was all Dabi could say, awkwardly, when you turned in his direction to gauge his reaction. “Yeah, you played well.”

“You should give him lessons!” Toga almost shouted, as if the lightbulb in her head had just gone off like it would in some anime.

(He really wanted to strangle her. He really did. Not that Tomura’s silent snickering from the side was making the situation any better. 

Jin, thankfully, was too engrossed in watching the game displayed near the top of the bar.)

“Thank you,” was all you could say, also awkwardly, while chuckling slightly. “And, I mean, I could if you wanted to,” you turned towards him with a small smile. “I actually teach some kids at the rec center.”

Of fucking course you were goddamn Mother Teresa on top of everything. Why should he be surprised?

“Cool,” he tried to sip his beer nonchalantly, though Tomura’s constant eyebrow waggling wasn’t helping. 

“Actually, I have to go to the bathroom,” Toga suddenly announced while pinching Jin’s arm. 

He muttered an ow before he followed her out of the booth (complaining about how he didn’t need to use the bathroom) before Tomura also made the excuse that he needed to grab another beer (even though his bottle was still pretty full) — which left the both of you alone at the booth and Dabi fuming as he sipped his beer quietly. 

Those idiots were about as subtle as screaming cows running across the hillside — what the fuck did they actually expect him to do? Ask you for your number or something? 

The whole situation was hopeless. 

“How’d you guys all meet?” you asked him through a sip of your drink — “You all seem super close.”

“Highschool,” he rolled his eyes. “They haven’t left me alone since.”

You let out a laugh at that, and Dabi almost caught himself smiling at the sound. 

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“Have you met Himiko?” He raised an eyebrow. “Girl’s fucking obsessed with everyone she meets — she just latches on and never lets go.”

“I wouldn't say that’s a bad thing,” you chuckled, letting silence (though was it really silence, if the entire bar was shouting at the top of their lungs?) wash over the table. 

“What made you join a band?” Dabi decided to return a question.

“One of my friends kinda forced me,” you shrugged. “Their bassist quit on them at the last minute for one of their gigs so he emotionally manipulated me into filling in for them. Then they just kinda decided that I was a better fit and I’ve been a part of it ever since.”

“Emotionally manipulated?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear,” you laughed at the suspicious expression he was making. “It was kinda along the lines of ‘It’s only once Y/N you have to do this for us! Remember when I brought you that dress when you spilled coffee on your shirt?’ — and honestly, I enjoy playing with them. It helped me learn that music was my creative outlet.”

“So you don’t study it I’m guessing?”

“No,” you laughed (and god, it was so fucking pretty). “I’m doing law. What about you?”

“Business,” he sighed — though unintentionally — but you caught on quickly as you raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want to do business?”

Dabi sat alarmed, staring and blinking at you like a deer in headlights.

 How the fuck did you catch on so quickly?

“It’s uh– sorta, yeah,” he forced himself to catch his words quickly. “My dad runs this company that he wants me to eventually take over — even though I’d rather not.”

You must’ve noticed how caught off guard he looked from how apologetically you were staring at him.

What did it mean that he immediately felt bad because you looked upset and it was kind of his fault?

“Sorry,” you avoided eye contact to sip on your beer once more. “I didn’t mean for it to get so heavy. You just — didn’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“No, it’s fine.” He leaned back in the booth. “It was just kinda — unexpected — that you’d pick up on it so quickly.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but have you ever told your dad that you don’t want to run his business?”

“Yeah,” he sighed as he leaned back, letting one arm drape over the back of the booth — “It doesn’t work like that though.”

Dabi physically couldn’t stop the frown that made its way to his lips after taking a sip of his beer, memories caught behind his lashes as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” you uttered under your breath, “It’s your birthday and I’m a stranger who’s forcing you to talk about stuff you don’t need to. I’ll catch you later, I guess.” 

When Dabi opened his eyes once more you were standing up, drink in hand to make your way out of the small corner booth; and he shot up without hesitation.

(Was he really that upset to see you go?)

“It’s not your fault,” he blocked your exit, hands outstretched so you couldn’t pass — though they were quickly retracted and scratching the back of his neck when he realized how threatening that must have been. “I, uh– Birthdays are already kind of a sore spot; I probably wouldn’t have celebrated if it weren’t for the rest of the gang. But, I promise, it’s not your fault for bringing it up.”

“Still,” you were giving him this small, sad smile that made him want to pull his hair out. “You should get to celebrate with your friends. I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

“You’re not–”

“Y/N! We’re all going to– Oh, am I interrupting something?” 

A tall, familiar looking blonde guy was standing right behind Dabi when he turned around, hands on his hips while sizing Dabi up like he was about to try something with you.

“Keigo–” you were out of the booth before blondie could say anything else, “–this is Dabi; he’s one of Himiko’s friends. Dabi, this is Keigo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dabi stuck his hand out, watching a tiny breath of air puff out of Keigo’s mouth as he took it begrudgingly. “You’re the lead singer, right?”

“Yeah,” Keigo seemingly stood taller.

“He’s the one who manipulated me into joining Blood in the Water,” you turned to Dabi quickly. 

“Manipulated?” An eyebrow rose on Keigo’s face before turning to Dabi. “Is that what she told you?”

“That’s what you did!”

“No,” he shook his head, laughing. “I just bothered you until you said yes.”

“That’s a form of manipulation,” you rolled your eyes.

“Is it really though?”

“Hey guys!” Another girl popped up — the girl who played the drums. “We’re leaving now, with or without you.”

“You’re free to join us if you like,” Keigo turned to Dabi, seemingly over his suspicion in under a second. “We’re heading to that bar down by the mall, this place is a little crowded now.”

“Nah it’s alright,” Dabi accepted his fate, clenching down on the part of his brain that wanted to ask you for your number so he could at least keep in contact. “My friends are all here — somewhere. I don’t wanna ditch ‘em.”

Your face seemed to drop when he said those words, but you nodded as the girl linked her arms in yours to drag you away. 

“See you around,” you waved before walking away — and Dabi could only repeat your action before you were gone with Keigo by your side, standing and staring from his little spot in the corner for what felt like hours.  

I’m such a fucking idiot. I made her feel bad.

“Dabi! What happened? Where’d Y/N go?” Himiko’s voice pulled him back, and Dabi could only turn and give her a weary look before slumping back into the booth to finish his beer. 

.

.

.

.

.

Dabi didn’t talk to Himiko for two days after that: for her pathetic attempts at match-making, for putting him in that situation in the first place, for leaving him there with you thinking that he could get your number, (for giving him hope that he could get your number,)  for not fact checking because it was clear that Keigo was already into you. 

And he knew it was stupid that he was upset (and a little jealous, frankly) since you’d both just met that day but he couldn’t help it. What was he supposed to do about it at this point though?

(He pacified himself; he could be as salty about it as he wanted since it’d been his birthday, and that had to have some significance.)

Perhaps the only good thing that came out of it was the resurgence of music in his life. 

And no, Himiko did not successfully convince him to go and join your classes filled with little middle schoolers — though, to be honest, he might’ve considered it just to have an excuse to see you (outside of trying to run into you at school).

Instead, he found himself drawn back to playing the guitar like had in high school — something he’d buried desperately after he joined college to avoid looking like those lame-ass, stereotypical “guitar guys”; with all the tattoos and piercings he had, he didn’t need the whole female population swarming after him just because he had the stereotypical “bad boy” phenotype. 

Even though his refound interest was hidden — he did not want Shigaraki to find out and give him shit about it forever — he enjoyed the quiet afternoons spent in the little music shop near the edge of campus: it was always basically empty, the owner was old and chill so he didn’t care that Dabi wandered in all the time just to mess around with his guitars, and there was a small recording studio in the back (which was technically used to give lessons, but it was good just for practicing).

He even made a little routine out of it; he’d spend the morning going out to get breakfast and listening to music to hype himself up before going in and practicing the couple of songs he was working on for the rest of the afternoon.

But the last thing he expected to see when he wandered in one random afternoon, was you.

You were tucked in the back in the recording booth with a flashy bass the old man usually displayed in the front, playing your heart out to a song playing on the headphone situated over your head with your lips quietly mouthing out the words to the song. 

Dammit, Dabi forgot how pretty you were just after a few weeks of not seeing you — even in casual sweats and your hair tied up he still felt his heart start beating faster at just the sight of you. 

What was it about your presence that made him feel so different? For some reason, he didn’t feel as angered or annoyed by his conditions if you were near him.

He couldn’t really help it as he crept further towards the booth, watching from the almost-soundproof glass; he could tell that you were playing Smells Like Teen Spirit again from the riffs you repeated, and also the solo you took — and it made it obvious of how deep your love for music ran. You clearly loved what you did, even if you downplayed it as a hobby for other people. 

You’d finished now, though, and were staring– fuck, you were staring at him through the glass; and you sent him a small smile and a wave.

Dabi kinda wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it. 

“Hey,” he tried to wave casually when you walked out to meet him. 

“Hey,” you smiled. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I, uh, started coming here not too long ago…” he shrugged. “—To buy records and stuff.” He quickly added. He wasn’t sure that he could trust you to not tell Himiko about his guitar secret just yet. 

“So you’re not the guy my uncle said started coming in on the afternoons to come practice the guitar?” you planted your hands on your hips. 

Dabi almost sputtered in response. 

Your uncle?

No wonder you were allowed to play the most expensive instrument in that little shop. 

“I… uh…” he couldn’t really find an excuse for his blatant lie, but you interrupted him with a laugh.

“I’m just being annoying. Don’t worry, I’m sure you have your reasons.” you waved him off with a smile, grabbing the bass you were just playing to go hang it back in the front. 

“They’re not real reasons,” he followed you and continued. “I just don’t really want certain people to find out I started playing again — specifically Himiko.”

“Yeah, I could see the consequences of that,” you giggled, putting the bass back in its display before heading over to the small counter where the cash register was.

Dabi didn’t know what else to do but follow. 

“So… this place is your uncle’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking back up at him. “I take over sometimes when he has to go help my aunt at the hospital. He was the one who first taught me guitar, actually.”

“Guitar and bass?” Dabi raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Planning to take over the whole music industry, huh?”

“Well, I can try,” you chuckled. “I mean, I’m planning to take over it through law anyways, might as well go through both forms.”

“You’re gonna go into entertainment law?”

“It’s what I’m thinking about,” you hummed. “Probably the easier stuff, like copyright and all that but I think it’d be really interesting.”

“Smart and talented,” Dabi couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. Why was he being so weirdly flirtatious? “What can’t you do?

“My stats homework.”

Dabi’s nose crinkled slightly before looking down on the counter to see that a big textbook that read STATISTICS was in fact, open and on the counter.

How had he not noticed that when he walked in?

Well it made sense, because you were the first and only thing he noticed when he walked in. 

“Do you know how to do any of this shit?” you looked at him wearily. “You’ve probably done stats in Business, right?”

“Here, gimme that,” he maneuvered the text book so that it was facing him before reading out the problem and beginning to explain how you used the z critical value to get the p-value and you had to use both of those to get your conclusion — missing the way you completely disregarded what he said: only watching the curve of his face, the way his mouth moved when he spoke, listening to the highs and lows of his voice as his words flew past your head, watching the piercings on his ears catch the light when he shifted slightly. 

Obviously you found him super attractive — not just his “bad boy” persona (which you couldn’t lie, was super hot— you actually noticed him in the crowd that night) but also who he was as a person. 

However, you still felt bad about asking about his family and home life unprompted. It wasn’t hard to see that there were a lot of bad memories by the way his mood instantly shifted when you’d asked about it that night at the bar; and you’d been beating yourself up about it ever since: trying to stay hidden and avoiding him whenever you spotted him in the distance on campus.

Even now, you could still make out the slightest frown on his lips if you leaned in close enough.

“Does that make sense?” Dabi finished, only looking up to see you quietly staring at him — the smallest distance left between you, like you’d brought your face closer to his just to observe him.

He only swallowed, like there was nothing left that he could possibly say — what could he say anyway? You were so close to his face that he could pick out the hints of other colors in your irises, the outline of your cheekbones, the way your eyelashes curled upward, the small hint of a smile that rested on your lips. 

 You seemed to realize what had happened almost instantly — though it felt like time itself had stopped and you’d both been sitting there staring for hours — and you turned away with a frown tugging over your expression.

“M’sorry,” you muttered, not looking back at him.

“What for?”

You opened your mouth once or twice, as if deciding what to say. “For staring.”

Dabi let out a small snort at that; like he hadn’t been staring at you since he first saw you.

“And..” you continued, taking in a small breath. “For what happened… At the bar — what I said.”

“You don’t need to apologize for asking about my family,” Dabi read your mind; he could see how much it was bothering you just by the small twinge in your eyebrows. “It’s not like I hide my contemptment for them,” he laughed. “I express it pretty openly, actually.”

“But it was your birthday, and I dunno… It was pretty rude of me.”

And something inside Dabi snapped.

Alright dude… Now or never…

“If you’re that worried, why don’t you make it up to me by coming out with me for dinner?”

Your eyes widened for a moment, in surprise, but your expression settled under a couple of seconds — leaving a large, beautiful smile to rest on your lips.

“I’d love that.”

[lily-blue]

Paying the price

☆ characters: patriot!jiung & revolutioner!you ☆ genre: dystopian au, the devil judge au, angst ☆ warnings: graphic description of damaged corpses, mention of blood and violence, vomiting, major character’s death, spoilers ☆ summary: jiung believes in the system, that it has the people’s best interest; you believe that the system is rotten to the core and the people of South Korea need to be enlightened about the truth - as it always is, you two learn it the hard way which one of you is right ☆ words: 15,3k ☆ massive thank you: to @dat-town ♥ for proofreading this monster (i still can’t believe i accidentally made intak older than jiung 🙃) ☆ also: happy name day to the one and only @restlessmaknae​ 💕 it actually made me feel nostalgic when i started to search up these guys for this story, it reminded me of that one yeonjun fic i wrote for you, the one that made me stan txt. i’m not quite there yet with these boys, but who knows, maybe one day. thank you for coming back to my life and showing me new groups and new things this year, too. i wish you nothing but happiness! 💕 ☆ a/n: this story is written for @restlessmaknae’s (dis)harmony collab; you can check out the masterlist with the other stories » here

Despite the country’s shortcomings: the apparent corruption that was planted in its core from the education system through the media to the judicial and political apparatuses, you loved your home. You loved living in a neighbourhood where the grocery store ahjussi gave you an extra cluster of grapes whenever you looked tired at the end of a rough day and the ahjumma from the corner Chinese restaurant knew your order by heart, hence spared you from the headache of making yet another decision when all you craved was a big bowl of warm lotus root soup. You loved knowing the youngsters in your building by their name and the feeling of having half a dozen sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts despite losing your family at an unfairly young age and spending too many lonely years in a government-funded orphanage.

God, you even loved the opportunities higher education was constantly giving you regardless of a handful of your teachers who openly expressed their political views in class when it went against your university’s policies. So why couldn’t you have sat through your Korean History II. lecture with a neutral face like everyone else did? Why did it make your blood boil when looking at Choi Jiung’s slides you realised that he was about to praise your country’s leaders, too, like the three other students before him had already done during their own presentations? Why couldn’t you have shut up and swallow down your opinion when it was time for the audience’s questions?

Easy. Because despite your love for your country and the people around you, it was corrupt to the core and as law students, all of you should have refrained from turning a blind eye to the exponentially growing amount of power abuse that happened in your home. It didn’t matter that half of your classes brainwashed you to bend under pressure.

‘What about those innocent citizens who lost their homes because of the evacuation? There is no clear data available about the rehousing of those families. Were they ever compensated?’ You threw your provocative questions at the blond boy, voice firm and merciless as your words echoed off the pristine walls in the small classroom.

The moment Choi Jiung’s gaze fell on you, you knew he was pissed, although he did a great job concealing his feelings. It was just… you had known the guy ever since you had moved to your current one-bedroom flat right after you had been kicked out of the orphanage. You could read him like he was an open book.

‘While the rate of unemployment increased during the pandemic, the statistics show that the rate of homelessness stayed stagnant. Is that not clear data?’ The blond boy asked back and you could hear your professor’s pleased humming from the first row as you were sitting in the second one, almost right behind Mr. Kim.

You linked your fingers and let your arms fall on your desk while you leaned forwards with a straight back. You didn’t break eye contact.

‘Reports from that period state that due to the pandemic, there were less ongoing projects in the construction industry, which means there couldn’t have been emergency constructions due to rehousing. Where did those families go?’ You pushed, shutting out the murmurs from your side and behind your back. You were already used to the whispering, the wary look in your classmates’ eyes whenever you expressed your opinion.

Unlike what they said, you weren’t obsessed with the spotlight nor did you have a childish crush on Choi Jiung. You picked fights with him because he was an unpleasant part of your friend group, but a part nonetheless, and you believed that Shota wouldn’t have tolerated his presence in your lives if he had been a lost case.

You challenged Jiung repeatedly to help him see the errors in his own beliefs.

‘Less ongoing projects don’t equal to no ongoing project. It only means there were fewer than before the pandemic,’ Jiung stated, voice cold despite the fire in his eyes. ‘Those few projects could have been, or included, the emergency constructions in the countryside,’ he said, your nails digging into the back of your hands because of your frustration as you were listening.

‘Hundreds of thousands of people—’

‘I think that’s enough. We still have one more presentation to sit through and discuss before this seminar ends,’ your professor rose from his seat, exchanging positions with the blond student. If looks could have killed, neither him nor Mr. Kim would have survived your rage. How dared this old, soggy snob cut you off when you were clearly making a point?

You had to bite into your cheeks from the inside to not curse him out, but your opinion must have been written all over your face because before the next student could have started her presentation, the history professor looked at you and shook his head as though he was deeply disappointed when clearly, he was annoyed.

‘It’s my last warning, miss,’ the man stated and you were genuinely surprised that he hadn’t memorised your name by now. After all, it wasn’t your first class with him and you had never been a silent participant. ‘If you keep disturbing the peaceful learning environment, I will need to send you out of my class and mark this lesson as a missed lesson next to your name in the roster,’ he informed you, although it was more like a threat.

Okay, maybe he did know your name. He just didn’t bother to address you respectfully.

You pressed your lips into a firm line, contemplating whether getting into a useless fight with your professor would have been worth it, but ended up biting into your cheek from the inside once again instead of reciting your rights as a student of this institute. It didn’t matter what rights a piece of paper gave you in your country when your opinion differed from what was accepted and encouraged by those above you - expected and demanded if you didn’t feel like sugarcoating the truth.

Consequently, you fully intended to stay put until the end of the class because it was still too early into the semester to waste one of the three lessons you were allowed to miss in each seminar, but as soon as Kang Yohan’s face was staring back at you from the next presenter’s slides, you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut. Thus, you did both yourself and the class a favour when you shoved your laptop into your backpack and walked out of the classroom without a word.

The sound of your steps echoed off the walls of the semi-abandoned hallways, but the relative silence didn’t bother you, nor did the glances you got from those who saw you walking out of a classroom before the official end of the period. Confident, you headed towards the library on the first floor with your chin high and your facial expression unbothered.

It wasn’t the first time you chose your beliefs (and your pride) instead of letting a professor humiliate you in front of a whole class, after all.

You were doing some research for another class, sipping on your iced coffee despite the late hour, reading through statistics about crime rates and the judicial system, when Shota took a seat by the table you had been occupying since your last class for the day. You narrowed your eyes as you let your gaze loiter over his dishevelled figure, but said nothing before you turned back to your laptop. Being neighbours with the guy, you whole-heartedly believed that some things considering him was better left unasked. That way, you weren’t an accomplice.

‘Are you still looking for a way to get inside that institute?’ He asked while he reached out for your drink and took a casual sip of the bitter beverage like it was his.

You tore your gaze from the screen and leaned your back against your chair without making the slightest attempt at getting your drink back from the younger. Instead, you linked your arms in front of your chest and observed his face with caution. The yellowish bruise under his left eye and the cut on his cheek promised nothing good, but you knew Shota meant danger mostly for himself and rarely for the people around him.

‘The Dream House Medical Center?’ You asked just to confirm that you were thinking of the same building and all he gave you was a nod and a lopsided smile. ‘Yeah, I do, actually.’

Even though you still had a whole year before you should have started on your masters thesis, you already had a pretty firm idea of what you would have liked to write about: Kang Yohan, the misjudged judge who had died nearly a decade ago in the explosion of the courtroom where the infamous live court show had been broadcasted. That day, South Korea had lost not only the president and the first lady of the country, but five other powerful and rich people as well, all seven of them corrupt to the core yet labelled as victims of a self-assured psychopath. It boiled your blood whenever you thought of them, how in today’s history books, they were the casualty of an anti-national act conducted in an attempt to overthrow the administration.

Your fists were trembling as your nails sank into the soft flesh of your palms. You swore, you would clear the judge’s name one day in the future and make everyone see those lies that they were constantly fed by the government. Your thesis paper, the detailed research none of your professors would be able to oppose, would be the first step down the road.

But to be able to start marching, you had to get inside the Dream House Medical Center.

‘Any suggestions?’ You asked when the silence got too loud, not breaking eye contact even when you could feel the first tear drops forming in the corner of your eyes. Making a deal with Shota was never easy, the boy did nothing for free, not even for his closest friends, but he wouldn’t have brought up the topic just to tease you. He had something to offer and you knew when to be patient.

‘I got my hands on some interesting intel, so I can get us in and out without any of the guards noticing,’ he informed you, lazily sipping on your drink as though he hadn’t just knocked you off your feet with his statement. You were trying to find a way inside that building for months by then, because while it was supposed to be an abandoned institute - it was a part of a failed charity project after all - it was unreasonably heavily guarded.

Taking a deeper breath to ground yourself, you put your elbows on the table in front of your laptop and leaned forwards.

‘Name your price,’ you demanded quietly, earning a genuine smile from the boy.

‘Help me with the university interview. I need dirt on your professors and those you don’t have classes with,’ Shota negotiated and honestly, the only reason you were able to swallow down the laugh that was scratching your throat was the fact that you needed his help. If you could have afforded him getting sulky, you would have ruffled his messy hair and pinched his cheeks before you told him you would have helped him anyway.

He was clearly doing you a favour for free while pretending that he was a businessman who made no exceptions. It made you wonder whether he had gotten beaten up when he had tried to find information on the Dream House for you or the two things were completely irrelevant. A selfish part of you that didn’t want to deal with the guilt wished it was the latter, but deep down you knew Shota wouldn’t have held back something so huge just to share it with you at the perfect moment.

You had both learned early on in your lives that perfect moments were created; they didn’t just come to those who were patiently waiting.

‘Want it written down or is it enough if I tell you everything I know?’ You asked with a small tilt of your head, playing along and taking on a more serious tone. Meanwhile, you glanced down at your laptop and pulled up a blank document on your screen. The chances that none of your professors would have been present at Shota’s interview was high, so you wanted to make sure you had info on those who might have been possible candidates. For that, you needed to prepare a long list with every professor from the Business Faculty on it and ask around in the KU group chats you weren’t a part of yet.

‘Written down,’ Shota said and you acknowledged his choice with a low hum and a nod as you pulled up your university’s website and copied the names of the listed professors to your document. You also made a second list that contained the names of students you personally knew and would have vouched for, hence could have sought out for help.

‘Consider it being done,’ you preened, scanning through your lists one more time before you closed the tab and saved a couple of important websites regarding your assignment for your class as bookmarks. You made sure your laptop was turned off properly before you shoved it into your bag. ‘About the Dream House…’ you started, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could despite the light buzzing in your veins. ‘When are we going?’

‘Where are you going?’ Choi Jiung’s voice cut off your impromptu discussion before it could have started and you sighed, disappointed that you had let your excitement get the best of you when you should have seen the interruption coming. After all, Jiung was well aware that you preferred studying on campus over writing your papers in your own flat. He also knew that Shota liked tagging along when you had classes after six, because it meant that chances you would stay at the nearby coffee shop until closing time was high and he hated when you walked home on your own so late at night. Thus, when Jiung was looking for his friend, all he needed to do was checking the spots you frequented at.

‘None of your business, Choi,’ you grumbled while you leaned back against your chair and linked your arms in front of your chest.

Frustrated, you rolled your eyes when Jiung put a cup of perfectly untouched iced coffee on the table in front of you, but reached out for the drink when you saw Shota eyeing it like he was seconds away from stealing that, too.

The silence that fell on your table wasn’t new. It was a recurring phenomenon in your friends group whenever Jiung and you were joined by a less talkative person - so basically anyone other than Keeho or Intak. And while at first it had made you anxious, because you had felt as though you should have been able to initiate or at least keep up a pleasant conversation with people you considered close friends, by now you knew silence was absolutely fine as well. In fact! It was rather nice to enjoy the tranquillity around people who accepted you the way you were: stubborn, strong-willed and curt when you had nothing important to say.

‘What got your panties in a twist this time?’ Shota’s snarky question shook you out of your thoughts, his dark eyes fixed on nothing in particular making you wonder whether he was talking to you or the blond boy on his other side.

You opened your mouth for an equally sarcastic answer when Jiung let out a loud huff and cut you off with his own mocking reply.

‘What else? She tried to sabotage my presentation. Again,’ he accused and you rolled your eyes without giving too much thought to the action. All three of you knew damn well that you would have never stooped so low; your morals simply wouldn’t have let you play dirty much to Shota’s disappointment. The younger had tried to make you see numerous times that the world wasn’t fair to those who played by the rules, but you stood your ground each and every time. You wanted to become an exceptional judge just like Kang Yohan and his mentee, Kim Gaon. You were determined to lead by example as well - with the right example!

‘Oh, grow up, Choi Jiung, would you? My questions were spot on,’ you retorted, slim fingers turning white around your drink.

Looking around, you had to remind yourself that just because it was late, the coffee shop still had a fair amount of customers, thus you should have kept your voice low to not disturb their peace. Still, resisting the urge to call the blond boy out on his bullshit, as he wouldn’t have contributed to your daily caffeine intake if he had been indeed pissed, was challenging. He got under your skin way too easily.

‘No. You were once again pressing your false narrative,’ Jiung tried to correct you, talking to you in a condescending way that made you feel like a child. If looks could have killed, he would have been dead even before his gaze landed on you. ‘One day, these types of questions will cost you a lot more than a missed class.’

You gulped down the coffee in your mouth along with the non-existent bile that somehow did scratch your throat.

‘Is that a threat?’ You spat, unaware of the sadness in Jiung’s eyes as you were hyper fixated on the possible implication behind his words. It made you see red, grip tight around your cup and nails digging into the plastic with so much force, Shota had to take the coffee out of your hand and put it on the table before it could have overflowed.

‘Friendly advice,’ Jiung corrected you once again and it was only due to the years of practice the orphanage had given you that you hadn’t screamed it into his face that you didn’t consider him as a friend. Not like you did Keeho and Theo and sure as hell not like you did Shota. The sole reason you let him be a part of your life despite his questionable political beliefs was your respect for the others.

With a resigned sigh, Jiung turned his gaze away and shook his head as though he couldn’t have taken your stubbornness any longer. Well, you didn’t ask him to.

‘I’m done for today,’ you stated, leaving the half-finished drink on the table as you grabbed your bag and slid your gaze to the younger. ‘Shota?’

The boy stood up from his seat immediately and reached out for the abandoned beverage, his smile content as he took a big sip from the iced coffee. He patted Jiung’s shoulder twice in gratitude, then squeezed it lightly for good measure.

You turned away, refusing to feel guilty for putting an abrupt end to the conversation. It was a long day, getting into a heated argument about the government with Jiung for the second time that day was the last thing you needed. Especially at a public place that you loved and where you were a regular.

‘See you tomorrow, hyung,’ Shota bid his goodbye while you sealed your lips and gave Jiung a half-assed bow because it was a habit drilled into your DNA. It was a fundamental part of your culture: you bowed to people at every single encounter, at every goodbye and sometimes in between when the situation required it. You didn’t have to respect someone to follow the most basic rules of etiquette in their company.

If Jiung had said anything to your best friend before the younger boy followed you towards the exit, you hadn’t heard him, but you did sneak a peek at him sitting casually by your table before you closed the door shut.

Not that you would have admitted it to anyone.

Your palms were sweaty while you were waiting with Shota for what you supposed was some sort of sign that you could finally enter the building without getting arrested for trespassing. Admittedly, you had never felt more nervous in your entire life: your current actions going against your moral code while simultaneously aiding your fight against the propaganda that your whole nation was fed with on a daily basis. You needed evidence, desperately so, but the thought of breaking into the Dream House Medical Center freaked you out more and more as the crucial moment came closer and closer to your present.

Only a couple hundreds of metres from the abandoned institute, it felt too real. You weren’t sure you were ready and started to question whether you were made for the job.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that at one point your feet started drumming a clumsy rhythm on their own accord, but your lips still parted slightly when you felt a warm hand on your knee, over your ripped jeans. Staring at Shota’s hand, you lifted your head to look at his face and shot a tight-lipped smile at him as a sign of gratitude for his silent support. You could do this. It had been your idea from the beginning. You were doing the right thing.

So why did the proverb ‘the end justifies the means’ sound like a cheap excuse of a criminal?

‘Nervous, kiddo?’ A familiar voice pulled you out of the self-doubting spiral of thoughts and you turned towards the newcomers with panic in your eyes. Not counting the two of you, no one should have known about your plan. So why were two of your friends staring at you like they were simultaneously doubting your sanity and admiring you for your guts?

You looked around to check your surroundings in search of the others, then let your gaze fall back on Keeho and Jiung when you realised it was only them. 

‘What are you guys doing here?’ You whisper-shouted, unable to decide how you felt about their presence. For 1) since it was your research, you felt like you were responsible for the safety of everyone who got involved in the fieldwork and looking after Shota in itself was already a bit emotionally overwhelming for you under the current circumstances. 2) Because of the very same reason, you were relieved that there would be more pairs of eyes during the investigation that could watch out for the potential danger.

Still, a part of you felt more people meant a bigger risk. It didn’t help that you were already fidgety due to your growing guilt that pressed down on your chest.

‘Supervising,’ Keeho explained, his tone lowkey condescending like he couldn’t believe he needed to spell it out to you. Like it was natural that he was there even though he shouldn’t have known about the trespassing to begin with. ‘Obviously, I won’t just let Shota break into a guarded institute on his own,’ he added, coaxing a displeased scoff out of you with his complete disregard for your presence and capabilities.

You wanted to remind the boy that you were only two weeks younger than him and that you would have made sure Shota didn’t get in trouble even if it had meant endangering your own life, but in the end you swallowed back your remarks. Mostly, because you believed it would have been unwise to start a fight so close to the main gates. Also, because your muscles were non-existent in comparison with the older boy’s. Realistically speaking, he had more potential than you when it came to protecting your friends.

‘What about you?’ You turned towards Jiung, one of your slim brows raised with challenge. For some reason, you doubted he had come with Keeho to help you in any way. If anything, he might have tagged along to give you another unasked, friendly advice.

‘I came to see your face when you realise you’ve been wrong all this time,’ he claimed with a shrug, not putting too much effort into protecting your feelings. Although, had he ever? The thought that he found true joy in your failures left a bitter taste in your mouth.

The retort that he had come in vain had already been on the tip of your tongue when Shota nudged you with his shoulder and pointed at the entrance once he gained your attention.

‘It’s time,’ he said. You gulped before you acknowledged his statement with a nod.

Considering how many walls you had bumped into while you had been trying to find a way inside the building in the legal way, how unhelpful every single one of the government agents had been and how many armed guards you had seen around the building in the last hour, you had assumed that walking inside the medical centre would be challenging despite your best friend’s intel. Blame it on those old school action movies Intak loved so much, but you were convinced that you would be in a race against time, that you would need to run and jump and use your non-existent muscles to get through some hidden back door.

Walking up to the front door with confident strides and opening the huge lock with a key was oddly anticlimactic. You had to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

‘How the hell did you put your hands on that thing?’ Keeho asked, stealing the words out of your mouth.

Shota closed the double door behind your backs like he had just gotten home, then turned on his flashlight similar to the one in your pocket. You mimicked him and turned on yours, too.

‘I asked for a copy? Don’t you know acting suspicious is what makes people aware you’re up to something?’ He asked, not really expecting an answer based on the way he turned his back on your small group and started to walk down the hallway. ‘It’s all about confidence.’

You put your hand on Keeho’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly as a reminder that you didn’t have time for further interrogation nor was it the most suitable place for a parental scolding, then followed your best friend until you reached the first intersection. There, you waited for the others to catch up with you and you decided to split up. You didn’t have all the time in the world after all, only two hours until the next error in the system of the graveyard shift.

‘I’ll check the basement,’ you volunteered and shook your head dismissively when you saw Jiung open his mouth from the corner of your eyes. ‘Keeho’s babysitting, there are too many floors for just two groups,’ you said, slowly turning towards the blond boy with your entire body.

‘Who said I was about to follow you?’ He retorted with a huff and took the flashlight out of Keeho’s hand as he turned on his heels and marched up the stairs. You kept your eyes on his back until he disappeared, then shot a tight-lipped smile in the others’ direction before you made them promise to take pictures of anything suspicious or interesting-looking.

You hoped Jiung would do the same as well even though he hadn’t waited around for your reminder. You had faith in Shota and his dubious network, you really did, but you genuinely doubted you would have had another chance like this in the near future if you had failed to gather enough evidence due to your slipshod job.

On your way to the basement, you kept your mind occupied with random songs from the last decade they still played on the radio just so it wouldn’t have turned on you and made you see things in the darkness that weren’t there. Your imagination might not have been too wild, but being alone in a building where you assumed poor people had been killed for how much their organs were worth was scary. You didn’t believe in ghosts and other supernatural creatures, but you wouldn’t have blamed their souls for sticking around, angry, if they had existed.

The dust in the air was heavy and it stuck to your skin uncomfortably as you checked each and every door that opened from the hallway underground. Most of the rooms were unlocked, the surgical equipment inside of them outdated and untouched. A part of you - the same part that was convinced of Kang Yohan’s innocence - was eager to see them as evidence of human experiments, but the rational side of you was aware that things like these were normal at a medical facility. If you had shown photos of these to anyone, they would have focused on the fact that you shouldn’t have been in the building.

You gulped, growing frustrated, as you checked the time on your phone and walked up to the next door. You still had some time.

Admittedly, you knew you could have spent an entire day in the building and still felt like you needed more to do a thorough research, but beggars couldn’t have been choosers. Thus, you locked your panicking thoughts in the back of your mind and opened the drawers in the next room that looked more like an abandoned office than a medical room.

‘Come on!’ You groaned when you found the third drawer in a row empty, getting on your knees without much thinking to force the last one open as well. At first glance, it didn’t seem like you should have had a key to open it, so you hoped it was only stuck, preferably due to the weight of the papers inside of it.

Two of your nails broke in the process and your fingertips were burning, but eventually you managed to open the lowest drawer, its content plenty and full of names you weren’t familiar with. However, you did recognise one: Heo Joongse. He had been one of the “victims” of the explosion that had killed Kang Yohan. He had been the former president of South Korea.

Hands shaking nervously, you started to take pictures of the documents, but because of the lack of proper lighting, they turned out to be unreadable. Therefore you shoved them under your sweatshirt on a whim.

‘Noona! Noona, it’s time to go!’ You heard your best friend calling for you and you stilled, contemplating whether you should have pretended that you hadn’t heard him and checked one more room or let him know where you were. He must have calculated with finding you, he knew how you got when you… ‘Noona, we have to get out of here!’

You closed your eyes and let out a displeased sigh. You should have met them upstairs, close to the front door. If Shota was in the basement, it meant you hardly had any minute to waste. Even if the digital numbers in the upper right corner of your phone’s screen said otherwise.

‘I’m coming!’ You shouted on your way to the hallway, giving a resigned look to the rest of the basement, to all those closed doors you hadn’t had a chance to open, then ran towards Shota’s voice. It came from the stairs that led to the ground floor.

The question of what had happened that you needed to leave twenty minutes sooner was on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t have a chance to say it aloud. The moment you opened your mouth, your best friend grabbed your wrist and pulled you in the opposite direction from the main entrance, confusion making you uncharacteristically obedient and unresponsive.

You didn’t question him when he shoved you inside a dirty restroom, nor did you ask a single thing when Keeho emerged from one of the toilet cubicles. You simply let the older boy take the lead and help with your balance when you stepped on top of a half-broken plastic toilet lid that was supposed to support your weight and made you tall enough to reach the edge of the open window on the tiled wall.

‘You really think I can…’ pull myself up; you wanted to ask, but before you could have finished your question, someone grabbed your arms from the outside and got you out of the building with one swift movement.

With a scream stuck in the back of your throat, you looked down at Jiung with slightly parted lips and gulped nervously when your gaze fell on your palm atop of his chest. You swore, you could feel his heart beating like crazy under your palm, your own mimicking the rhythm and pushing enough blood to your neck and cheeks to turn them ruby red.

‘Get up! We’re running out of time.’ It was Shota whose voice pulled you back to the present, but you were sure, even without stealing a glance at the boy on your right, that it was Keeho who pulled you off Jiung and pulled you towards the iron fences.

You stumbled in the dark, unaware of when you had lost your flashlight and whether the guys had turned theirs off on purpose. By the time your friends deemed that you were far enough from the facility, your lungs were screaming for a break and every breath felt like you were inhaling pieces of broken glass.

‘What the hell happened?’ You demanded, even though it seemed you were the only one who thought your frustration and anger were justified.

‘That your stupid obsession almost got us in trouble, that’s what happened,’ Jiung screamed at your face, a few drops of saliva landing on your burning cheek due to your close proximity. You balled up your fists, your knuckles turning white from how hard you clenched them.

‘Shota said it was safe! And I don’t remember asking you to join us,’ you retorted as calmly as you could manage with the growing annoyance you were feeling.

Sure, you knew trespassing had been a gamble, that you had been going against everything you believed in just to prove a point, but you had done nothing inside that damned building that could have put everyone in danger. Whatever had happened it hadn’t been on you, you refused to believe it.

‘It was the USB. We found a bunch of them in one of the offices, but one of them was still plugged into a smashed PC, so I pulled it out,’ Shota confessed at the same time Keeho said:

‘I think I broke a lock I shouldn’t have.’

You closed your eyes, heaving. Honestly, the second option sounded more possible, but you felt like stating the obvious or calling Jiung out on his freaking tendency to put the blame on you would have done more harm than good. The atmosphere was already tense, making it worse while you were still relatively close to the crime scene would have been stupid.

‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter,’ you concluded because crying over spilled milk would have been just as idiotic. You had gotten in and out without encountering any of the guards, no one had known your faces, your identities were safe. You might have felt bitter about leaving so soon, but at the end of the day, you were all unharmed and that was what mattered.

You straightened your back and opened your eyes.

‘Let’s go home,’ you exclaimed and shot a genuine smile in Shota’s direction to soothe the guilt that was written all over his face.

When Jiung bumped into your shoulder on purpose, you gritted your teeth, but followed him towards the main road. You decided not to ask him whether he had found anything useful as you were sure he wouldn’t have told you even if he had done, and pointed at your tummy with a mischievous wink when Shota did the same with his pockets where he hid the old USB sticks.

You might not have been able to check everything you had wanted, but your mission hadn’t been a complete failure, after all. And that… that sure as hell made you feel like you had accomplished something.

A couple of days later, you were in the university library, working on your assignment on the live court show’s effects on the judicial system and the shift of responsibility the DIKE app had contributed to when citizens had been given the power to decide the defendants were guilty or not guilty, when Choi Jiung walked up to your table and shut down your laptop with a fixed combination of keys. To say you were furious would have been an understatement. You were livid.

‘Do you want to die? The hell is wrong with you?’ You spat, pushing yourself into a standing position in an attempt to look more intimidating despite still being significantly shorter than the boy. It didn’t matter. Anger could take people farther than one would have thought.

Instead of answering your question with words, Jiung threw a small pile of papers on your desk. You looked down at it with narrowed eyes before you took it in your hand. There was no need for you to scan through the provocatively phrased paragraphs. Just by looking at the header, you knew it was your thesis abstract.

‘Where did you get this?’ You asked, trying not to wrinkle the document in case it was indeed the original copy that you had put on your professor’s table in the teachers’ office after your last class.

‘Do you want to die?’ He threw the question back at you, his tone just as angry as yours even though the flames in his eyes burned with a different colour. He seemed a lot more serious rather than borderline panicking. His reaction closed up your throat, but you kept your chin high to prove a point. ‘I’m serious! You can’t be this stupid, can you?’

You took a shallow breath, then another one and another one for good measure before you crouched down for your bag and shoved your laptop inside of it.

‘You saw that place. They’re guarding it for a reason. Even if you really didn’t find anything on the first floor…’ You took another breath to calm yourself. You still had time before your next class, so you could put the abstract back on your professor’s desk like Jiung had never put his hands on it.

‘You can’t become a judge with this mindset. It’s anti-nationalist,’ he pressed, stopping you with his fingers hanging around your wrist like a chain. You shook it off, his rough touch, and turned around to look him in the eyes.

‘I’m ashamed of you. People like you should never be allowed to become a judge in the first place,’ you said, quiet enough to not draw anyone’s attention, but loud enough to hurt.

You meant it: every word. Those people who deliberately turned a blind eye on the flaws in the stories the system tried to feed you with, on the government’s wrongdoings just because it was easier, shouldn’t have been given power to decide who deserved a severe punishment for breaking the law and who acted upon self-preservation. 

The two of you kept eye contact for longer than it was necessary, therefore you were about to turn your back on Jiung when you got a text via kakao. With furrowed eyebrows, you fished the device out of your pocket and checked the incoming messages.

shota 😤: “don’t come home!” shota 😤: “i’m serious” shota 😤: “stay with the hyungs”

The urgency in his double texts made you feel alarmed, so you sent a quick message to both Shota and Keeho, then threw your phone into your bag and rushed out of the library.

There was no way you would let your best friend deal with whatever trouble he was in on his own when you had a good guess where he was and it was clearly too big for him to handle it alone.

Jiung tried not to think too much into it when you didn’t show up at class the day after you had stormed out of the library. He really tried not to panic when he couldn’t see you at any of your favourite places around campus, although he was familiar with your schedule and habits: when you preferred the university library over the coffee shop, which classes you would have never skipped for the world and how many papers you had to submit before the upcoming midterms.

It wasn’t unusual that you didn’t pick up the phone to him, so he didn’t even bother after the first futile attempt, aware of the line he had crossed when he had taken your thesis abstract that he shouldn’t have even read, but when even Soul refused to read his messages, he knew something was off. The boy would have never ignored his hyungs just because he might have taken your side. At least, he had never done so before and god, the younger sided with you almost all the time.

Lacking any better idea, Jiung dialled Keeho’s number, letting out a relieved breath when the older picked up the phone after the second ring.

‘Have you heard from Soul? His bestie hasn’t shown up at uni since last week,’ he started without beating around the bush, too frustrated (and worried) to prolong the conversation. He wanted to know that you were both okay and his worst nightmare hadn’t come true despite your stubbornness.

Had you gotten in trouble with the authorities because of your big mouth? Who had you been texting to before you had turned your back on him?

‘Not since last week. He said he would be out of town for a couple of days,’ Keeho answered. ‘Same for the firecracker. She texted that she’s worried about Shota, but then she claimed everything was fine, so I didn’t ask,’ he explained, not going into too much detail about why he hadn’t pushed when he was so overprotective of the babies of their group. Jiung knew the older boy was balancing two jobs to provide for not only himself, but Jongseob, too. Life was tough ever since the youngest had run away from home.

If you had told Keeho things were okay, Jiung understood why he had chosen to believe you and stay at his workplace or steal himself an hour of extra sleep.

‘Did he say where he was going?’ Jiung asked, wondering whether he was overreacting or the nagging voice inside of his head was right about you. Even if he doubted you considered him as a friend, he would have liked to believe that he knew the core of your personality. There was no way you would have deliberately ditched your studies when you had worked so hard to get accepted on scholarship.

‘No,’ came the answer after a momentary break, silence filled with pangs of distress. ‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure, but I have a bad feeling about this. I’ll go and check their place,’ Jiung said, checking his timetable and deciding against showing up at his last class as it wasn’t a seminar and most importantly, it wasn’t a lecture he was sharing with you.

‘Now?’

‘Now,’ he nodded out of habit as he threw the strap of his messenger bag over his head and put on his cap.

‘I’ll be there in an hour. Wait for me!’ Keeho asked and Jiung let out a loud, affirmative hum before he hung up the phone.

The blond boy didn’t waste any time. He called a cab with his kakao app and asked the driver to drive as fast as he could once he got inside the car. He promised to double the fare if the old man got to your place in under an hour (which would have been an achievement in itself in the afternoon traffic).

‘We have arrived, mister,’ the taxi driver announced and Jiung indeed paid plenty before he jumped out of the car and rushed upstairs. He had only ever been to your place once, when it had been your birthday in freshman year of uni and Soul had organised you a surprise party with your favourite strawberry cake and a second-hand laptop for your studies. Jiung couldn’t remember anymore what he had bought for you. Had he even bought you anything? 

He shook his head. That wasn’t important at that moment. Making sure you were alright and simply avoiding him was.

The first alarming sign was how easy it was to get inside your flat: all Jiung needed to do was push down the handle and the door was open. He didn’t need a key, a keycard or a passcode. His heart sank into his stomach when he crossed the threshold.

Jiung needed to bite into his lips to not make the mistake most people made on tv whenever they found themselves in a similar situation. Because as ridiculous as it sounded, his first instinct was to call for your name and announce his arrival, which would have been stupid. What if someone was here? He really shouldn’t have done that.

So he didn’t. Instead, he took off his shoes and checked every room as silently as possible until he made sure he was alone. Then, he started to go through your stuff systematically: skimming your mails, searching through your drawers and desk, rummaging your bathroom while simultaneously trying to not invade your privacy and finding clues about where you had been and what had happened. He was in the middle of looking for hidden compartments in your walls when Keeho arrived.

‘Is anyone here?’ The older boy asked, coaxing an unamused scoff out of Jiung with his loud question. Of course, he was acting like every idiot in a horror movie who was about to die.

‘Bedroom,’ Jiung grumbled, keeping his focus on the task in hand. He vaguely remembered Soul bragging about the coolest compartments he had installed in both of your flats, so that you could have hid your cash there and never gotten robbed. They had to be big enough to store a handful of stolen USB sticks. If only he could have known for sure there was nothing on them that would want dangerous people to make you disappear.

‘What happened here?’ Keeho asked, clearly taken aback by the state of your room.

Jiung didn’t bother to look around. He knew damn well the disaster he had left behind when he had started to get more and more frustrated, too impatient to put everything back to its place when they hadn’t given him the answers he was looking for.

‘The kimbap in her fridge went wrong days ago. She wouldn’t have left it there if she’d had a choice,’ the blond boy stated and it was ridiculous really, how sure he was in certain things when it came to you. But he just knew. He had caught you eating food you didn’t enjoy just because you had already paid for it or it had been for free. Even if you had been in a hurry, you wouldn’t have left it there to rot.

‘You sound pretty paranoid. And worried,’ Keeho commented, but walked up to your bedside table without much questioning and moved it aside. Then, he knocked on the beige wall a few times, gaining Jiung’s attention when suddenly, the thud gave a different sound.

Jiung crawled towards the bed on his hands and knees, reaching for the content of the hidden compartment once his friend opened it with ease that showed he knew exactly what he was doing. In small stacks, there were a couple of 5000 and 10000 won bills, less in total than the amount of Jiung’s allowance had gotten regularly in middle school.

Jiung’s throat closed up when his eyes fell on the custom-made keychain he had forgotten a long time ago, the one he had given you for your birthday and the one that sat on top of a pile of dirty papers. He took it into his hand and shoved it into his pocket before he skimmed the documents. On each page, they had the Dream House’s stamp on their upper left corners, which meant you might have found these in the facility’s basement.

Damnit! You had never mentioned you had found something that night, let alone something that looked like trouble.

‘What do they say?’ Keeho’s question came from Jiung’s right, your worn bed cracking under the older boy’s weight. 

‘At first glance? That they are lucky if they’re in the countryside,’ the younger answered, his heart rate picking up because of the dreadful pictures his brain was throwing at him about you and Soul behind bars, the two of you in separate interrogation rooms, powerful people trying to break you to turn against each other.

Jiung looked around in search of his backpack, then stood up and lifted it off the floor, so that he could shove the documents between two books he had been supposed to take back to the university library. They didn’t matter anymore. You and Soul did.

‘Where are you going?’ Keeho asked, and while Jiung had a concrete destination in mind, he was contemplating whether he should have told the other the whole truth. Keeho hadn’t seen the late president’s name on the documents yet and while Jiung would have also needed more time to figure out what you had gotten yourself into exactly, he had a vague idea. He didn’t want to put his friend in more danger in case he was right.

On the other hand, he was aware how important Soul was to Keeho. Obviously, the older boy cared about each one of his close friends, even people he deemed honest and kind, but Soul was like a brother to him. If Jiung had been in his shoes, he would have resented whoever kept secrets this serious from him.

‘I’ll ask Jiseong if he heard anything,’ he settled for the truth, albeit giving a curt answer. He would cross that bridge when he got there. For the time being, he didn’t want to complicate things even more. Not to mention that his step-brother would have scolded him and might have outright refused to tell him any details if he had shown up at his office with someone who had nothing to do with their family or their social circle.

After meeting you, Jiung had started to question whether he was able to read other people as well as his family expected him to, but recognizing the fine mixture of doubt, hurt and worry in Keeho’s eyes was too easy.

‘You will call me,’ the words came out pseudo-commanding, like the boy knew no objection, but Jiung noticed the pinch of uncertainty that made Keeho’s voice crack by the end, turning the statement into a semi-question. He didn’t call him out on his lack of faith in his character, mostly because Jiung himself was unsure of numerous things, too, regarding the situation.

Therefore, he settled for a nod instead of a verbal promise and left the building. The papers in his backpack felt heavy, like rocks that were trying to pull him underwater, but nothing could have compared to the weight of the abandoned keychain in his pocket that you, for some reason, had kept at the same place you kept your treasures.

After a failed attempt at the District Court, Jiung decided to wait for his step-brother at his home office, which was basically a separate room on the second floor in their house, between their parents’ offices and across from his own study room. Aware of the importance of respect and good manners even when one wasn’t out in public, he knocked on the mahogany door and counted to three, seven, ten, before he entered.

Since the boy’s plan was to ask a few questions from his hyung about the Dream House Medical Centre and whether there had been any attempts at breaking into the abandoned building in the last couple of years - the more general his curiosity appeared to be, the safer for you and Soul -, he decided to jot down every aspect he needed to touch upon and tried to make the inquiries sound as academic and neutral as possible while he was waiting. A written list could have helped him make it look like he was working on an assignment of some sort.

Taking a seat by the massive desk in the left corner of the room, Jiung pulled out the upper drawer, looking for a piece of paper. He knew it was a little old-fashioned, that he could have taken notes on his phone as well, but there was something about a piece of blank paper that stimulated his brain. Thoughts and ideas came easier when he could feel the material against the mounts of his palm and the weight of the pen in his hand.

Jiung didn’t intend to pry. Why would he have? He had been raised to trust his family above everyone and everything and put his faith in the system blindly as his relatives had important roles in it for generations. However, it was undeniable that it was your thesis abstract staring back at him from the top of a smaller pile of papers in Jiseong’s drawer. Jiung needed to take it into his hands.

He didn’t have to read through the lines to make sure the paragraphs had been written by you. Even though your name was crossed out with a black marker, he knew it was yours. He had read your abstract before. God! He had told you it would have gotten you in trouble. He had just never assumed that his hyung would have also been involved in this mess somehow.

Desperate to not jump to false conclusions, Jiung put the document back into the drawer and closed it carefully. He leaned the back of his head against the chair and closed his eyes, trying to even his breathing. He couldn’t have allowed himself to act suspicious or else his brother would have kicked him out of his office before he could have uttered a single word.

‘What are you doing here?’ Jiseong’s thunderous voice filled the room, pulling the blond boy out of his messy thoughts. Jiung snapped his head in his brother’s direction, resisting the urge to gulp down the nervous knot in his throat or put on a fake smile.

‘Homework,’ he explained with his fidgety fingers clenched into fists and hidden under the desk. He needed to stop thinking about your abstract in the drawer and how it could have gotten there for not only his own sake, but yours and Soul’s as well. He had never been a man of emotions, he couldn’t have allowed to become one in such a delicate situation. ‘I mean, I need some answers I couldn’t find on the internet, nor in any of the books in the uni library,’ he added when his answer met with silence, putting effort into relaxing his tense muscles.

‘I see,’ Jiseong muttered, not taking his hawk eyes off his younger brother while he walked closer to the desk and along with it, to Jiung. The young man’s arms were crossed in front of his chest; his tailored suit devoid of any wrinkles. ‘Ask away then.’

Jiung wished he had had more time to prepare himself for this conversation. Sure, the boy had wanted to get over with the interrogation as soon as possible when he had decided to seek his hyung out right after he had left your flat, but that had been before he had found your thesis abstract. With this new discovery, he felt unprepared.

‘It’s common knowledge that the Dream House has been abandoned since judge Kang Yohan tried to use it to overthrow the government,’ he started with a well-known statement to steal himself a couple of more seconds. He usually used this method during presentations because talking about things he was certain about did wonders to his jittery nerves, but this time, the academic tone had no positive effect. The lingering uncertainty poisoned his confidence. ‘It’s heavily guarded, though. Why?’

‘Use your brain, Jiung-ah. Why do you think it needs to be guarded up to this day?’ The man asked in a chastising tone. It reminded Jiung of school breaks in the countryside that they had spent with their grandparents. It reminded Jiung of summer days when he had falsely thought he could have acted his age without unpleasant consequences.

He frowned, but gave a serious thought to the question and answered with his chin held high.

‘So people wouldn’t break in,’ he chose, because even before breaking into the Dream House and rummaging through the first floor, he had doubted there had been something or someone kept in there that could have escaped. Which could have only meant that the government wanted to keep people from entering.

‘And?’

Jiung furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, wondering whether his brother knew he had been there, inside the medical centre, when you had put your hands on those documents. Was there a specific answer Jiseong was expecting from him? Or should he have played it safe and pretended he didn’t know about the late president’s involvement in something that had gotten you in so much trouble, you and Soul had disappeared off the face of Earth?

‘There are people in our country who believe Kang Yohan was some sort of saint who wanted to protect the powerless from corruption even though he couldn’t have cared less about the poor and unprivileged,’ the young judge stated, destroying the remaining distance between himself and his brother. Jiseong put his palms on his desk and leaned closer to Jiung with a predatory glint in his hazel eyes. Like he was staring at a pitiful prey instead of someone he had to treasure and protect. ‘It’s guarded, so those with anti-nationalist ideas wouldn’t turn it into their own sacred place,’ he said, forcing the younger to hold his breath and listen. ‘They would crowd it. It would give them a place with meaning for gatherings and suddenly, their preaching would gain more credibility.’

At that moment, as he was staring at his step-brother, the blond boy couldn’t help but think of you and your reaction whenever he had said something to defend the system. He wondered whether he had sounded just as biassed and inimical to you as Jiseong did to him while he was talking about faceless people and their hypothetical actions when they hadn’t committed said crime yet.

He wondered whether the fact that he added that harmless “yet” at the end of the sentence in his head meant he was indeed the same.

‘Has anyone ever broken into that building?’ Jiung asked partly to cut the tension that grew with the silence, partly to check the credibility of his hyung’s words.

Jiseong took his hands off the desk and straightened his back. He shot a small smile in Jiung’s way and shook his head.

‘Never. Like you said, it’s heavily guarded. You have nothing to be worried about,’ he said, slowly loosing his necktie, piercing gaze poking holes into the skin between the younger’s eyes. ‘Any other questions?’

There were. Jiung had plenty of questions starting with why was your abstract in his drawer, what had they done to you and Soul, whether you two had been the first ones who had been dealt with this drastically or there were others, people who had no connection to people like Jiung who came from an influential family. However, putting these thoughts in words would have done more harm than good and Jiung wasn’t an idiot. He might have doubted Jiseong would have been able to make him disappear or it was really him who had been behind all of this, but Jiung knew he wasn’t untouchable.

‘No, nothing. Thanks,’ so he said and stood up from the chair as casually as he could manage before he bent down and picked up his backpack from the floor. He bowed to his brother like he always did when he was greeting his family members or saying goodbye to them, then straightened his back and waited to be dismissed, showing respect to his elder as he had been taught.

‘Go, wash up! It’s almost dinner time,’ Jiseong said and patted his brother’s shoulder once, twice, three times, before he turned his back on Jiung.

The younger didn’t hesitate to leave the room afterwards.

The thing was, whether his step-brother knew that Jiung had broken into the Dream House with you and the boys or not, Jiseong had lied to him. He also had your thesis abstract, the very same document Jiung had given back to you the day he had last seen you, which was more than a little concerning. Therefore, despite his own beliefs, Jiung needed to figure out what was going on and how deep his hyung was in the mess you had also gotten yourself and Soul into.

He needed to know you two were okay. The sooner, the better.

If anyone had caught the boy sneaking into his brother’s home office instead of attending his classes, Jiung would have been cursed out, then dragged into his room and locked up for several weeks. He knew because he had been driven to school and back home for a whole month in high school when his father had found out that he had drunk a beer with his friend in public despite being underaged. They had done it at a park where they had thought no one had been paying any mind to them, but they had been dead wrong as his then-friend’s mother had sent one of her secretaries to keep an eye on her son and they had gotten caught before they could have decided whether they had wanted to open the second can. The tension at home after that had been so messed up, Jiung hadn’t dared to break any rules for years.

That was, until he had met you.

Rummaging through Jiseong’s drawers turned out to be fruitless. Other than stationeries and a bunch of files about ongoing cases at the court, there was nothing to put his hands on, which was weird. Why wasn’t your paper in the upper drawer anymore?

Kneeling on the floor, Jiung leaned his forehead against the edge of the desk and closed his eyes. Looking through his hyung’s things was one thing. Should he have really logged into his computer, too? That sounded too extreme, but then again. The boy had already trespassed on government property just to keep an eye on you and make sure you were fine. He could have always claimed he needed Jiseong’s laptop for whatever excuse his mind would have provided at the time of need.

Letting out a troubled sigh, Jiung could hear your last words to him ringing in his ears. If he had decided to turn a blind eye on the weird happenings now, he would have turned into what you had hated the most in people like him. People with the proper background to make a real difference, but no desire to change what was wrong. He might have refused to believe you had been right about everything, nor did he think he was a bad person just because his values and beliefs were different from yours, but he couldn’t have lied to himself. Something about the Dream House project was fishy.

So Jiung sat on the chair and turned on the computer before he could have lost his courage. He checked every folder and every file systematically, then opened Jiseong’s email services and read through his mails, too. The more he saw, the less suspicious his brother appeared to be and the more guilty he felt, but it was too late to turn back. So he kept reading, until he did find something.

It was a forwarded email Jiseong had never replied to or if he had done so, he had already deleted the evidence. The original letter was a report on the break-in to the medical centre; the person claimed there had been three or four suspects, but no gender, approximate age or physical features had been stated. The first response was about the punishment of the guards who had been working that night; the second one was an ID number; the third said: it’s done. Collateral damage: one person.

Jiung’s hands were trembling slightly when in the last email attached to the conversation there was a follow-up report from his uncle. It had been sent at five in the morning, mere hours ago, and it said they were ready for shipping.

‘What the…’ he murmured under his nose, finding it hard to process that these people might have been talking about you.

Jiung deleted the search history and closed the browser. He turned off the computer and took a moment to think. Should he have visited his uncle’s researcher centre on his own or should he have told Keeho about these emails like he knew the older boy wanted him to? Should he have tried to figure out what was going on in the legal way or gone behind his uncle’s back, too, lacking spare time to waste? What had they meant by shipping anyway?

Before he left the office, Jiung took a quick look at the interior from above his shoulder, then stepped out to the hallway and fished his phone out of his pocket. He called Keeho and when it went to voicemail, he sent the older boy a cryptic text about how he needed him as soon as possible.

A rational part of Jiung was aware he needed backup, but he wouldn’t have waited hours just to hear back from his friend.

Luckily, Keeho had reached out to Jiung within an hour, hence the two boys could meet up at the 7-Eleven across from the research centre around three. If Jiung wanted to be honest, it was the worst time either of them could have picked: it wasn’t close to lunch break nor did it align with anything else that could have drawn the attention from them, but he didn’t want to wait until closing time. He wanted to check every room on every floor as soon as possible in case, for some reason, you and Soul were in there.

The more he thought about it, the more this place seemed like the perfect cover-up and this thought drove him up the wall.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ a familiar voice demanded attention, followed by a loud, screeching sound as the intruder pulled out the metal chair and sat next to Jiung. Intak’s smile was too wide for the older boy’s liking, but at least it didn’t look genuine. The visible distress that blended into his friend’s cheery facial expression made Jiung feel less paranoid even though he would have gladly accepted that he was overreacting and let the guys make fun of him if that had meant you and Soul were chilling somewhere in the countryside.

‘Why are you here in the first place?’ Jiung asked, his gaze sliding from Intak to Theo who also took a seat by the table in the meantime.

‘Duh. Cause I’m the best thief you know and you’re about to break into the enemy’s lair in broad daylight?’ Intak’s question was dripping with sarcasm, his cold tone making it sound more like a statement. Jiung bit back a nasty comment about how Soul would exceed him in no time with his connections all across the city because thinking of the younger came hand in hand with thinking of you and he couldn’t have that.

Jiung put his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers. He raised a brow as he looked at Theo, the silent question why he was there hanging in the air.

At first, Theo’s response was no more than a shrug, but as the tension became palpable, he let out a defeated sigh. It was clear, he didn’t think he needed to explain himself, especially because both Soul and you were a part of their friends group.

‘Someone’ll need to stand guard.’ It wasn’t something Jiung could argue with even though he would have liked to believe that even if they had gotten caught, his connection to the head of the institute could have gotten them out of trouble. The thing was, he couldn’t say it for sure anymore and this uncertainty and his sudden lack of trust in his own blood were stressing him out. If the boy’s thoughts hadn’t returned to your disappearance every two minutes, he might have already broken down due to the revelations he had needed to face in the last twenty-four hours.

‘Cool. Now, let’s order something and talk about the plan,’ Intak proposed, earning a judging side-eye from Jiung and a frown from Keeho when he pushed his chair back, making more space for himself to be able to stand up and walk up to the counter. ‘What? You chose a café for this group meeting. It’s pretty suspicious if we don’t order anything,’ he put his weight on his palms, leaning closer to the boys over the table.

Jiung let out a scoff.

‘I’ll have one small iced cappuccino,’ Keeho broke the growing silence before he changed his mind. ‘You know what? I’m coming with you. We’ll be back in a minute.’

Instead of following his friends with his eyes, Jiung’s gaze stuck on the massive building on the other side of the road. He couldn’t not feel like in a matter of mere hours, the life he had been living would cease to exist for good. Whether because his own uncle and step-brother were parts of a mafia-like system he had been blind to all this time or because he had chosen to betray them when he had decided to paint them as the enemy, it didn’t matter. Their bond that had been built on trust would break beyond repair once Jiung broke into the research centre. It might have already done so when he had read through his hyung’s emails.

‘You won’t turn on us, will you?’ Theo’s question pulled the blond boy back to the present, his sharp eyes cutting deep into his being. He didn’t blame his friend, though, even if the assumption that he would have left them behind to save himself was offensive.

His pride could take this much.

‘I want to get them back,’ Jiung said firmly, hoping that the sincerity in his voice would be enough and Theo didn’t expect him to come up with a whole monologue about how he was ready to go against his own family and burn Seoul down to the ground to find you. Because honestly, he wasn’t ready for any of those. He wasn’t ready to face the elephant in the room.

‘And that’s what we’ll do,’ Keeho patted the blond boy’s shoulder, taking a seat next to Theo while Intak sat back on the empty metal chair on Jiung’s side. He slid a small cup of black coffee towards the younger and took a sip from his mint choco frappé.

‘Which part of the building we want to infiltrate first?’ Intak asked and Jiung also let out an amused laugh when he saw the other boy fishing out a worn laptop from his backpack. Neat, serious and responsible weren’t adjectives Jiung would have ever used to describe his hyung, but he sure took this job seriously. It was actually pretty impressive.

‘The sixth floor and the basement. You need a special keycard to get to both or the elevator won’t start,’ Jiung said, going into more details about the security system although his knowledge was very limited. He had been in the research centre only twice and both times he had been left with his father’s secretary in the canteen while his father and uncle had been talking about business.

The soft clatter of the keyboard filled the air and embraced Jiung with its normality; he took a sip from his coffee and let the warmth spread in his body. He might have hated the thought of his friends getting in trouble because of his fixation on your sudden disappearance, but a selfish part of him found solace in their presence. He wasn’t alone.

‘Okay guys, we’ll do it this way,’ Intak spoke up after a couple of mumbled swear words and a delighted hum that reverberated through all of them. He pushed the laptop further from himself so that everyone could take a look at the screen, then pointed at the live footage of one of the security cameras inside the building. ‘Based on their social media posts and public appearances, these two researchers are the easiest to lead on. Out of the two, this one here, Dr. Kim Ryeowook is the one who possesses one of the six magic cards to the elevator.’

‘You figured these all out, skimming through a few Facebook posts?’ Jiung raised a brow and it was actually Theo who shook his head first, reaching out to the laptop and clicking on the tab next to the one everyone was staring at.

‘Actually, it’s a text analysis software we still need to work on with Beomgyu for one of our classes. Once it’s finished, it’ll help people make decisions, like solving complex problems for them, based on the imported information,’ he explained, slapping Intak’s hands away so that he could check the accuracy of the information.

‘Oh, okay! That’s cool,’ Jiung nodded to himself, letting the guy overwrite what he needed to overwrite before he confirmed the prediction.

Dr. Kim Ryeowook. The man was currently walking down the hallway on the second floor. If they were lucky, they could snatch his keycard and sneak it back into his coat’s oversized pocket before his shift ended around six.

Jiung’s heart was about to explode when the elevator’s doors closed behind their back and he caught sight of the sterile interior of the sixth floor. As they were running low on time, he was only with Keeho while Intak searched through the basement, his humming deafening even from the other side of the call that kept them connected.

‘Could you please focus? Look for papers, anything about shipping can be important,’ Jiung scolded his friend while they walked down the eerie hallways that led from the elevator to the laboratories. Although they were both dressed in the white coats of the researchers’ uniform, the boy couldn’t have said he felt disguised enough. In fact! He felt as though they were both sticking out like sore thumbs. They were walking too slowly, the caution in their steps almost alarming.

‘I don’t know about you, guys, but I don’t think they’re storing papers in here,’ Intak’s voice sounded almost pained before his words got replaced by a very forced, very loud coughing fit. Jiung furrowed his eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Keeho.

‘What are yo—’

‘Fuck! Is this a freaking liver?’ Intak asked in terror, his question tugging on Jiung’s insides forcefully, making him nauseas. Because while it was a known fact that the employees at his uncle’s research centre were looking for ways to cure incurable diseases, Jiung would have never thought their vaccines and experimental medicines were tested on human organs. Sure, it must have been less cruel than testing them on living, breathing people, but the method still sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Looking at Keeho and listening to Intak’s uneven breathing, his friends had to be of the same opinion.

‘Guys, some of the organs have the same set of numbers…’ Intak didn’t have to finish the sentence, it was obvious what that meant. Yet, he still forced the words out. ‘I think they belonged to the same person. Livers, kidneys, hearts. The list is endless,’ he said.

Jiung hadn’t realised he was shaking until Keeho wrapped his fingers around his wrist and stopped the uncontrollable trembling of his left arm.

‘Don’t touch anything. Take pictures if you can, but stay alert,’ Keeho instructed, then pulled Jiung forwards.

The two picked up their pace and walked down the hallway with purpose in each one of their steps. When they reached the first door on the left side, Jiung reached for the handle with his sweater paw covering his hand, then pushed it down so that they could enter.

Inside, there were two dozens of hospital beds, unconscious people tied to the meal structure of the furniture, high-tech machines monitoring their vitals. It shouldn’t have been as scary as it felt with the eerie silence filling the atmosphere.

‘Do you thin—’

Jiung didn’t let Keeho finish his question. He had to stay focused; if the older boy had asked him whether you and Soul were in one of these rooms, in one of these beds, his thoughts would have tried to come up with an answer and ended up being all over the place.

‘I’ll check the beds on the left,’ the blond boy volunteered, simultaneously praying that you weren’t one of these people and that you were here so he could get you out of here.

Jiung’s movements were frantic by the time he got to the last patient - victim? - at the end of the row without being able to touch you. He snapped his head towards Keeho who was taking pictures of the sick, fighting his frustrated tears, in hope of good news.

Neither of you was in the room. Or in the next one, or in the third.

‘I found him! Jiung, quick!’ Keeho exclaimed, his hands already working on detaching the machine from Soul’s fragile body. Jiung could taste bile in his mouth when he saw the bloody dressing around the pale boy’s torso. He couldn’t see the wound and he had never been particularly good at Biology, but he had a faint idea that the red line across the textile was somewhere around his friend’s right kidney.  

‘Hy-hyung,’ Soul mumbled weakly, his half-lidded eyes barely open and his lips a mixture of lilac and blue as his head fell on Keeho’s shoulder. It took everything in Jiung to not throw his million questions at him about you and his family members like a spoiled child.

‘It’s okay. We’ll get you out of here. You’re safe now,’ the older boy whispered against the boy’s temple, then looked around, searching for something. Jiung couldn’t stop thinking of… ‘That wheelchair! Jiung-ah, we need to put Shota into that wheelchair.’

The urgency in Keeho’s voice pulled Jiung back to the present and he rushed to the other side of the room to get one of the wheelchairs for Soul. Keeho was right, there was no way they could have sneaked their friend out of the research centre when he was in a half-unconscious state. A patient in a wheelchair might have been a tad less suspicious than a lax body hanging from their shoulder. Though, a voice in the back of his mind said neither was a common sight in the building.

Jiung’s entire body tensed up when Intak dropped the phone on the other side of the call. The younger’s curses and his desperate ‘No, no, no!’ froze his blood even though Intak’s voice was barely above a whisper due to the sudden distance between him and the electronic device.

Contemplating whether he should have helped Keeho with Soul or pleaded Intak to give them an explanation of what was going on in the basement, Jiung let out a frustrated sigh while he was keeping the wheelchair in place.

‘Intak! Intak! What’s wrong?’ Jiung tried to gain the boy’s attention, but it wasn’t working. So they exchanged a worried glance with Keeho and came up with a plan: they checked the last room on the sixth floor, then the older got Soul out of the building while Jiung went down the basement to collect their friend (and whatever he might have found or encountered with).

Jiung hoped it wasn’t one of the security guards who had caught him red-handed, but if it had been, he was Intak’s best chance to get out of trouble. And that was the least he could do for his friend as without him, they might have never gotten to Soul.

The thought that he might have been facing his uncle’s rage at any moment should have been more terrifying. Jiung had no doubt about it that under different circumstances, mere weeks ago, he would have shitted his pants from the presumption that he had messed up so bad, the old man needed to be involved in the situation. But as he was running in search of his friend, passing by shelves full of glass containers and what not, he feared whatever triggered Intak’s uncharacteristic reaction the most.

It didn’t take long for Jiung to find the room with the open door. On the contrary, it became pretty easy once he got within hearing range, because Intak’s painful wailing echoed off the walls and surrounded him on the empty corridor.

Trying to regulate his nerves, the first thing Jiung noticed when he crossed the threshold was how the room was slightly colder than the rest of the basement he had raced through. Then, the sour and irritating smell of vomit and formaldehyde.

‘Intak.’ Jiung crouched down in front of the younger boy, cupping his face with his own, trembling hands, so that the boy could take notice of his presence. He had never been particularly good at comforting others, but he had seen Keeho do it to the boys enough times to have a vague idea about what he should have done.

Jiung pulled his friend’s snotty and tear-stained face against his chest and patted his blade bones gently, for a calming rhythm. Meanwhile, he looked around the room with his chin resting on top of Intak’s head, trying to figure out what could have happened.

‘She… she’s… no-hoh,’ Intak cried out desperately as he grabbed Jiung’s arm and held onto him stronger, body shaking from the threat of another pile of bile-filled vomit. Jiung looked down at the boy and closed his eyes. Should he have reminded him that they had to leave the basement soon? Should he have asked for answers?

Keeho would have rocked him back and forth until he calmed down, but Jiung was afraid they didn’t have enough time.

‘Intak, we need to leave. The keycard, we…’ The rest of the words stuck in Jiung’s throat when Intak pushed him away aggressively, shaking his head and screaming frantically as though the blond boy said something unforgivable.

‘We, no! We have to… we need to! No!’ He protested, crawling backwards on his hands and feet until his head crashed against an open compartment in the wall. With bold, palm-sized characters, there was a number written on it: 0327.

Now that Jiung paid more attention to the odd-looking doors on the right side of the room, his anxiety started to pick up. He pushed himself into a standing position and walked past Intak, trying to take a better look at the inside of the compartment. It must have been the younger who had opened it, which could mean that whatever was in there had triggered his hysterical reaction.

Jiung’s brows were knitted together in confusion when he felt a hand on his ankle. He looked down at his friend, who was shaking his head, mouthing his objections so quietly, the blond boy didn’t hear a word.

He turned back towards the compartment and pulled it entirely open. The piece of white clothing that was hiding the thing underneath was as big as a comforter. Although it brought no warmth or comfort when removing it, Jiung’s gaze fell on a pile of chewed out skin. There were no bones, no organs inside the violated corpse, only damaged skin and a head with more stitches, indicating that he couldn’t have found the brain inside of the skull, either.

Jiung fell on his knees when he recognized the ghost of your features on the corpse’s face. He coughed up bile and that little food he had in his stomach before the first tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt sick.

Neither of the boys could have told how long they were cursing and crying in that room with your corpse mere centimetres from them, but at one point Intak’s ringtone overpowered their sobs and pulled them out of their heads. Although Intak was closer, it was Jiung who reached out for the abandoned device and received the call, his voice hoarse and weak that did barely a thing to alarm the caller on the other side.

‘What the hell guys! You have to get out of there! Dr. Kim is already looking for his keycard, they are on their way to the sixth floor and I’m pretty sure the basement will be the next,’ Keeho said, panic and worry evident in each one of his words.

Jiung looked at Intak, then shifted his gaze to the open compartment. A part of him knew that there was no way they could have taken your remains without throwing up at each corner on the way out, that letting the others see you like this, especially Soul, would have traumatised them for life. He was also aware that as stubborn as you were - had been -, you would have wanted him to pull himself together and get the hell out of there before those who had done this to you would have done the same with the people you cared - had cared - about.

But it was so freaking hard to leave you there or to get up from the floor.

‘Are you listening to me? Please, guys, come out! Whatever there is, it’s not worth it, please, guys, please!’ Keeho was pleading, forcing Jiung’s limbs to move.

‘We’re on our way, hyung. Stop worrying so much,’ he forced out the sassy reply to ease the older’s nerves before he hung up the call and shoved the phone into his pocket.

Considering that cleaning up their vomit wasn’t an option, Jiung didn’t bother with checking the room for potential evidence they could have left behind. On the other hand, he put the textile back on your corpse and made sure the compartment you were laying in was closed before he opened another one and took pictures of another damaged body. He didn’t have the heart to do the same to yours.

Dragging Intak out of the basement was time-consuming and by the time they reached the elevator, Jiung’s muscles were screaming for a break, but he pushed himself until they were out of the building. The boy knew that their initial plan had been to sneak the keycard back into Dr. Kim’s pocket or at least leave it at the reception desk as though someone had found it accidentally at one point of the day, but with the mess they had left in the morgue room, these kinds of details had lost their importance.

Instead, they crossed the street to get to the coffee shop’s parking lot at a speed that didn’t draw too much attention, then got in Theo’s old car and refused to talk about what they had found in the basement until they got somewhere safe in the outskirts of Seoul.

The shocking news of your death lingered around the boys like smoke: sickening, ugly, bad. They couldn’t get rid of it and it threatened their health, especially Soul’s who refused to eat or drink anything for days despite his weak state until Keeho aggressively shoved some plain porridge down his throat.

Intak and Jiung weren’t that much better. Jiung just knew you would have lectured him for his self-harming behaviour if you had seen him skip his meals, so he forced himself to chew and gulp without the slightest care for the taste of the dishes Keeho put on the table. They could have been the saltiest, most disgusting soups and porridges of his life, the boy wouldn’t have noticed.

Although they didn’t know whom they could trust, the boys agreed on one thing: they needed to show the country, if not the world, the real faces of those monsters who led their nation since the first wave of the pandemic. They had to make people see how terrible they were, so horrible, inhuman things like this could have never happened again. 

The problem was that even when they tried to upload the pictures they had taken on the web, they got taken down almost immediately. Then, after two weeks of futile attempts at sharing the evidence with the citizens of South Korea, the news was filled with the same lie on every damned channel: a group of young people committing terrorist acts against the country.

Honestly, Jiung knew that he had burnt down all the bridges when he had chosen his friends and the truth over his family, but seeing his ID picture next to those photos that the people in power had chosen to put on display in the media was numbing. He felt too many emotions at once to distinguish any of them properly. He couldn’t even say he was angry: the word itself did no justice to the thunderstorm inside his chest.

‘We can’t give up now,’ Soul said and Jiung tore his gaze from the screen of his tablet to look at the younger. He still looked so fragile, but as he balled up his fists and opened his mouth for Keeho to feed him some soup, he finally had some colour to his cheeks.

‘We won’t,’ Jiung promised and for the first time in weeks, the silence that followed his statement didn’t drain him. If anything, this newfound determination gave them all another reason to find a way to stop this madness.

Not even twelve hours after their faces were plastered all over the capital city, a girl called Elijah reached out to Jongseob, claiming that she and her uncle had seen the photos Jiung had taken of the damaged corpse before they had gotten taken down and that they wanted to help them fight against the system. It was freaking suspicious and at first, they decided to ignore it altogether. However, when Soul pointed out that Jongseob hadn’t been at the Dream House with them, nor had he joined them when they had broken into the research centre, they talked through their options one more time.

And they decided to follow the instructions of this faceless person towards a place that was promised to be safe for them in two groups just in case it was a trap.

Jiung, Soul and Keeho were the first ones to leave the city. They took Theo’s car, saying one of them would come back for the rest of them if things were really safe, then followed the GPS signals given to them real time by this Elijah girl who hacked into its system.

‘What do you think we will find when we get there?’ Keeho asked from behind the driver’s seat, his voice low on purpose to not wake up Soul who had fallen asleep in the backseat.

Jiung shrugged.

‘Dunno. Two more hours and we’ll find out,’ he stated, looking out the window, taking in the scenery. The countryside looked so peaceful and slow from the inside of the car, but he knew it was only the illusion of obliviousness. He refused to believe that there was any place in this country that hadn’t been corrupted by the government. He knew that the outside world was just as rotten as his life was without the rose-tinted glasses he had been wearing all these years.

Shaking his head, the boy tried not to think about the last conversation he had had with you. Still, he wished he had listened to what you had been saying. He wished he had stopped you when you had turned your back on him and walked away, visibly wary. You had given him so many chances to understand. Yet, here he was, figuring out too late:

History was made by monsters dressed as saints.

the end.

[ruewrites]

Song of a Mourning Dove

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 4402

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Promt: Love Affair

It's been a hot second my lovelies! Classes have been demolishing me this semester, but I'm happy I got the chance to participate in this collab! I had the fortune of doing the writing part in collabing with Vera (Instagram @Hanxmura)! Make sure to check out everyone's work for Asmo's birthday! I feel so fortunate to have gotten the chance to work alongside so many talented people 💗

https://twitter.com/OMCollabs/status/1658547871883595778?t=9cZcBBSMCHQlsrftxy738g&s=19 (Go check out the beautiful artwork my collab partner made as well as the other peices that everyone worked so hard on!)

Please enjoy!

Comments are appreciated 💗

A broken nest surrounded by shattered eggs laid hidden in the shadows of the alleyway. Scattered feathers were strewn about, the ruined beginnings of a start that had yet to flourish, forgotten to time as the rain washed away the sins of another. A single soul darted through the rain.

He didn’t understand why.

Hadn’t he loved her?

Hadn’t he given her everything? 

Yet he was the one called vile. 

Evil.

A Demon. 

She might as well have pierced his heart with a blade, that would have hurt less and ended his suffering quicker. Instead he was left wondering with little to reflect on. He felt like he was dying, and yet some higher power demanded that he march on despite one of his reasons for living being ripped away from him. 

It became difficult to distinguish what was his own tears and what was from the sky above. In the misty haze of water meeting the concrete, a single lonely light from an inn pierced through the gloomy night. 

He wasn’t going home, not tonight. He couldn’t bear to go home after what he had just experienced. He couldn’t deal with the chaos and calamity. Instead he was going to drown his sorrows until both her name and face were nothing but a faint memory in his mind, until her perfume left his senses and her hair was long forgotten from his touch. He would drink until he could finally move on to someone new, to when he could finally find comfort in the arms of a stranger.

****

A lonely dove fluttered down to where the tree cover met the meadow. It bobbed it’s head to one side and then the other before collecting  a few twigs in it’s beak and flapping back up to the tree cover, wings much more clumsy on take off. After all, it was easier to meet the ground than it was to leave it. The mourning dove disappeared, the cacophony of birds drowning out any song it would dare to sing this late in the morning.

The gentle summer breeze tickled Asmo's bare arms as the meadow flowers bent upwards. A quiet tiny town was tucked away in the distance, far away from the bustling busy life he was so accustomed to. It was serene, gorgeous, the type of place where you would live in a tiny cottage near the edge of town and walk to the bakery every morning. Every face was a recognizable one and a friend was always nearby. Asmo's eyes threatened to slip shut as he wandered deeper into his little daydream. 

"It would be the perfect place to start a life together with someone, don't you think?" Solomon was leaning over him now, head resting on his hand as he laid on his side, "I could have a garden in the backyard, maybe a few things to attract animals too. You would be just like a princess surrounded by all sorts of woodland creatures." 

Asmo hummed, raising an eyebrow and letting his eyes wander over to his boyfriend, "You talk as if Lucifer would let you keep me up here."

"I could steal you away," Solomon continued. He plucked one of the flowers scattered around them and twirled it between his fingers, eyes locked on the petals, "Like Persephone and Hades, I could steal you away."

The flower expanded in the sorcerer's hand and transformed into half of a pomegranate, "You don't even have to eat all the seeds."

"Solomon!" Asmo squealed as Solomon leaned closer to him, their lips barely brushing, "Lucifer would kill you." 

He couldn't help but whisper, as if his words were secrets even to the wind.

Solomon pulled away enough to scoop at the seeds with his tongue. The action alone made Asmo hold his breath and shudder. It was an offer, an invitation, promises for a future that could belong to him one day. He clutched at Solomon’s cloak, the only thing separating him from the earth below. Solomon had him surrounded, enveloped, and he was giving him an offer he couldn’t refuse. 

The pomegranate seeds lingered on his own tongue long after they disappeared, but Solomon tasted much sweeter.  They had shared thousands of kisses in the past, and yet ones like these always felt the most scandalous. The chaste ones, the ones where lips lingered just long enough and broke into smiles. They made Asmo blush like a virgin and hide his face in vain. The kiss had started heavy sure, but it evolved into something more, something that had Asmo feeling some type of way.  Thoughts that made him hasty and impulsive. Thoughts that he would still be safe within Solomon's presence.

Solomon's love tasted like whisky from a hazy Saturday night and smelt like the lingering smoke from the ghost of a fire. It lingered everywhere he touched Asmo, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

It was a lonely inn in the distance.

It was comfort.

It was home.

It asked Asmo to jump, and Asmo asked 'How high?'. 

It was a continuous burning, passionate but also safe and comfortable. It wasn't looking to consume him, but rather to light up his darkness, to keep him warm.

Asmo bit his lip as Solomon's cold hands ran over his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Asmo didn't remember sitting up, nor did he remember coming face to face with his lover, foreheads pressed together and the breath stolen from his lungs. Solomon leaned in for one more kiss.

"May I?" he whispered against his lips.

"Darling-"

"Please?"

Solomon kissed him again and brushed gentle touches along his spine, "I want to see all of you, no one will see."

Solomon continued to whisper his request. Asmo let his eyes drift shut as he gave in. His wings unfurled from his back, fluttering as the wind tickled their membranes. And then Solomon's fingers drifted across them.

"Beautiful."

Asmo pulled away from his lover's arms, smiling as Solomon chased his lips. "Explain to me how your hands are still cold out here when it’s so nice?” 

His wings fluttered before settling down in a comfortable position, “My wings have goosebumps on them.” 

He plucked a few flowers next to him. Fingers weaving on their own accord. Briefly, he caught the look on Solomon's face. His cheeks started to turn the most perfect shade of pink. Of course, Asmo was certain it was a reaction to the coy expression he shot Solomon's way before turning his attention to the flowers in his lap. Humming softly to himself, he folded the stems over each other. 

"That's why I have you to keep me warm," Solomon moved closer, wrapping his arms around Asmo's middle and leaning his chin on his shoulder. "You are my Eurydice, and I would follow you anywhere, even into the greatest dangers of them all."

"I think you just want to keep me as your heater."

"Can't it be both?"

Asmo let out a small trill as Solomon ran his hands up his sides, wings fluttering between their bodies. All throughout, his hands remained focused on weaving. Solomon's hands were as cold as ice, and yet they felt wonderful against his skin.  

"You're cute."

"And you make the cutest little noises."

"So do you when I get you in bed." 

Solomon choked as soon as the words left Asmo's mouth. 

Asmo allowed one hand to leave his little project in order for him to reach up and play with Solomon's hair before sliding a finger down the side of his face and down to his chin. He turned his head to the side and smiled against Solomon's lips. "Wouldn't that fit that perfect little idea of yours? Making love to me in a perfect little cottage in a perfect little town?"  

Allowing himself to take in the sight of Solomon's perfectly handsome reddening face, Asmo turned back to his little project and tied off the ends. Holding it up in the sunlight, he admired all of the tiny perfect flowers. His wings fluttered as a pleased little purr left his lips. 

 "Asmodeus-" 

"Shush," Asmo clicked his tongue and placed the flower crown on Solomon's head, "My king needs a crown." 

"You are unfair, you tease me so cruelly."

Turning around, Asmo cupped Solomon's frowning face, "But I am not too terribly cruel am I? I promise you'll get what I offered you." He leaned in and pressed another gentle kiss to his lips, thumbs running over Solomon's cheeks.

"I never deny you now, do I?"

"Not once ever."

Asmo was far from unfamiliar with sex by the time he became involved with Solomon. Even so, in the beginning their couplings had been a tiny bit clumsy, filled with shaking hands and nervous laughter. Fingers dancing across bodies, mapping every groove and valley to memorize over hours of contemplation. They had made the beginnings of their symphony together with small gasps and words of encouragement, where to direct hands, the most beautiful  moans, and tiny messes marking their union on the sheets below.

Sex with Solomon was an experience. It was breathtaking and adventurous no matter how it ended up playing out. Asmodeus was willing to do it however he wanted, because sex with Solomon was a chance to be close with someone he loved. Above all, Asmo felt loved when they engaged with each other.  Solomon was an attentive lover, a kind lover. His breath was always hot and shaky in Asmo’s ear. 

As he looked at him now, Asmo couldn’t help but catch the tiny sparks of desperation. He wanted him, craved him like nothing he had ever wanted before, and the feelings were more than mutual.

They tripped over their heels as they made their way out of the meadow, giggling and laughing through the town. It was a dance, a chase, and Asmo’s heart was racing. He couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across his face despite the number of people they almost crashed into. Asmo had almost forgotten to reinstate his glamor with the excitement that was racing through him. Their fast paced footsteps clicked against the cobblestone before coming to an abrupt halt in front of a tiny cottage as Solomon grabbed onto his wrist. 

“This one,” he nodded, fumbling with a little key in his pocket.

“You never had any intention of returning me home tonight did you?” 

Solomon grinned, a few small petals falling from the crown upon his head, “Now why would I return you before spring has come?”

Of course he would continue with his references of tales from old. 

The door clicked open and they were falling inside.

Falling…

And falling…

And falling…

Deeper…

And deeper…

And deeper…

Each kiss was breathtaking.

Each touch was a fire burning brighter.

The bed was only a suggestion, and one they somehow managed to take.

The only thought that remained in his mind was Solomon’s skin against his own and the way their hands fit together so perfectly.

His breath hitched as cold fingers traveled along his sensitive regions. Fangs dug into his lip as his head arched into the pillow. Solomon smiled at him before disappearing between his legs. 

Oh if those first few laps from his tongue didn't stroke a fire within Asmo's core. 

His thighs squished against his lover's face and his hands went to grab for his silver locks. But Solomon was quick as he lifted himself from his meal.

"I need room to work," he chuckled, pushing Asmo's thighs back down.

"And here I thought you were desperate to cum."

"I can't enjoy a snack?"

"Excuse you! I am at least a full course meal."

Solomon hummed and kissed his inner thigh, "That you are my Dear."

Instead of going back to where Asmo so desperately wanted him, Solomon continued to kiss and nip along his thigh, and down his leg, right to the tips of his toes.

Asmo gave him a small kick, not enough to hurt him, just enough to grab his attention, "Hello, Mr. Hot-and-Bothered, you've got me all hot and bothered back up here."

Solomon gestured towards his throbbing cock, standing proudly as attention between his legs, "You have had me like this, on and off, all week. I think you'll survive if I pamper you for a bit."

Now that was a word Asmo liked. 

He laid back down on the pillow and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Solomon's lips as they passed over his skin. The way his fingertips played with the strip of highly maintained hair made him shudder. His glamor dropped once more now that there was no risk of being seen by others. He didn't need to cause that type of scene on what was supposed to be a romantic getaway. 

He could feel the shape of each hickey Solomon left on his inner thighs, how he would come close to where Asmo wanted him the most just to quickly evade him seconds later. He was throbbing, pulsing, and he wanted nothing more than to have Solomon inside him.

Asmo wiggled his hips and started to thread his fingers through Solomon's hair. He appreciated that Solomon enjoyed foreplay, but he was starting to get antsy.

"Do you want to feel my tongue light you ablaze My Queen?" 

Asmo shuddered. Solomon using his mother tongue was playing dirty. 

"I would rather feel your cock split me open." 

His own words fumbled a bit due to an unexpected, and particularly pleasurable, flick from Solomon's tongue against his most sensitive regions

"But I do love pleasuring you with my tongue," Solomon's hand ran up Asmo's stomach and his breath hitched, "It is pleasurable for me."

"Solomon-"

"But if you'd rather have my magic meat wand rearrange your insides-"

The speed at which Asmo grabbed a pillow and smacked Solomon over the head was almost unbelievable.

"Don't. Hide. Your. Terrible. Terrible. Words. Behind. A. Beautiful. Language!" 

Solomon cackled with each accented smack of the pillow to his form. 

"And yet you're still turned on."

"I will leave."

Solomon wrapped his arms around his hips and pressed kisses to his side. It was a plea to stay, knowing Asmo would never leave. Asmo tried to stay mad, he really did but when Solomon climbed up his side and caressed  his wings. He let out a tiny content trill  as Solomon reached the crook of his neck.

"Have you ever seen a magic cock crow?"

Asmo couldn't help but snort.

"Well I don't have that but I can show you how it spurts."

"Solomon!"

Asmo squealed, but his partner held him close.

"And I'm about to cock-a-doodle do you."

"You're not gonna cock-a-do anyone if you get me laughing too hard!"  

Solomon grinned and used his other hand to lift Asmo's leg slightly. 

"Then may my cock enter the hen house?"

Asmo hummed in thought. The squeal that left Solomon when Asmo grabbed his manhood filled him with nothing but pleasure. 

"You know, they also have cows with the hens too, so how about I milk you for all your worth?" Watching Solomon's face darken was all Asmo needed to know he had the reins again. "And they all have to breed too."

Solomon adored him no matter what form he took, and that was part of why Asmo adored him so much.

A hiss and a soft 'fuck' left Solomon's mouth as Asmo started to stroke him. He could feel his partner thrust up into his soft hand, the tip of his cock brushing against where Asmo wanted him the most. 

Asmo was in control.

He squeezed his partner's cock and brought it closer to his entrance, allowing Solomon to feel the warmth that could be enveloping him.

"So," Asmo pushed the head in a little further, "Make love to me?"

Asmo loved the way they felt when they were in union with each other. Solomon filled him in the most perfect way, his fluttering walls grabbing onto him and making his human moan.  

Milky legs wrapped around the sorcerer, controlling his movements and pulling him in deeper. Solomon was going at his pace, going in as deep as Asmo needed him to to reach all those wonderful spots that had him moaning.

Solomon was panting and whimpering in his ear and it was driving Asmo insane. He couldn't help but nip at Solomon's neck. If Solomon could leave hickeys on his thighs, then his neck was fair game. His fangs always brought shudders out of Solomon. 

His hips stuttered and Asmo squealed, back arching off of the mattress.

It was so domestic and hot. Asmo didn't realize two things could be true at once. Lucifer had expected him home, instead he was here, out past curfew and being one with the man he adored more than anything. 

The little jokes.

The laughter enhancing the pleasure.

Asmo just wanted to hold him close and stay joined with him forever. 

Solomon reached a hand between his legs and Asmo gasped.

"I want you to feel just as good as I do," Solomon breathed, switching to his mother tongue once more, "I want to feel you finish with me."

As if he needed to ask. Asmo tangled on hand into the back of his hair and gripped hard, their thrusts remained steady and precise. 

This was personal.

This was sacred.

Asmo felt loved.

Asmo felt secure.

A sharp gasp left his lips and his thighs tightened around Solomon. He could feel that lovely heat reaching its peak. It made him squirm under Solomon to a point where it was his human’s turn to steady him. That lovely pace was becoming agonizing in terms of speed, and he let Solomon know with little nips to his shoulder. On one hand he wanted to reach his orgasm, but on the other hand-

Solomon’s hand sped up along with his thrusts, but only slightly. 

Tears started to prick at his eyes as an overwhelming feeling consumed him. It came out of nowhere, smacked into him like a freight train, and became more powerful the closer he came to his orgasm.

“I love you. I love you so much,” Asmo’s words came out softly, softer than he realized what his voice was capable of. Solomon met his gaze and that was when he lost it. It took him a moment to realize that Solomon was also crying, and through the tears there was laughter. There still wasn’t a name for that feeling, but it was mutual and Asmodeus adored it. 

Soon after, Asmo finally felt himself tilt over the edge, an airy moan pouring out of his pretty lips. Solomon was soon after, Asmo’s fluttering insides driving him over the edge. With a groan Solomon emptied himself inside of him, giving a few more thrusts before slowing to a stop.

They remained connected, enjoying the feeling of being connected, being one. Asmo squeezed, fearing that if he let him go that Solomon would disappear forever, that he would wake up only to discover that all of this had been nothing but a dream. 

No words passed between them. Instead their lips met in a gentle embrace furthering their connection. 

“I love you too.”

****

The light he woke up to was the first sign. He had never made it back home to the Devildom. A mourning dove sang its haunting melody from outside the window. He took in the room for the first time. It was cozy, small, and had the most intricate wooden trimming Asmo had ever seen. The sheets were a soft pale blue, he almost would have mistaken it for a gray. They were cool, a perfect contrast to how hot he had felt last night. From somewhere in the room amongst scattered clothing, he heard his phone buzz. He didn’t need to look at the screen to know  Lucifer had sent him an inconceivable number of text messages. He would certainly be in for a rather long lecture upon his return. 

And he wouldn’t be the only one. 

An arm made its way around his middle.

“Stay with me.”

Asmo twisted so that their lips could meet. Solomon was an eager kisser, always one to chase lips and seek out physical affection in private. He was an adorable man, and he was his adorable man. Asmo was smiling into the kiss. What he wouldn’t give to stay in this moment, to stay with his human.

“Lucifer is going to kill you, and lock me in my room for the next millenia,” Asmo whispered in between kisses.

“Then stay. Stay where he can’t reach you.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Asmo pressed one last lingering kiss to his lips before tracing his hand over his cheek, “He’s my family and I love him.”

Solomon’s face fell as he pulled Asmo’s hand to his lips. There was a certain sadness in his eyes that broke Asmo’s heart. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to stay, he did, but he also didn’t want to leave his brothers worried especially not Lucifer.

“Then I shall just follow you.”

Solomon smiled against his skin, “For I am no better than Paris, and I would follow you anywhere, even if it meant certain disaster.”

“You stop that.”

Solomon seemed stunned at his words, eyes wide and staring at Asmo who’s brows were furrowed and dawned a rather serious expression on his face. 

“You keep comparing us to tragedies. I don’t like that.”

“They’re all considered love stories Asmodeus.”

“I know, but are any of them happy? Did any of them end up happy? Don’t they all involve some sort of depressing something or other-?”

Solomon snorted, “Depressing something or other-?”

“Well it’s true!” Asmo stood fast in what he did, “Paris died and Helen married some asshole, Orpheus couldn’t save Eurydice, and Hades and Persephone can only see each other for six months out of the year like some weird divorced couple where they don’t want to be divorced but they’re like forced to be. And I don’t want any of that to be us. I actually want this to go well.”

His face softened and tears pricked at his eyes once more as he stared deep into Solomon’s soul, “You are, without a doubt, one of the best things that has ever happened to me Solomon, this is one of the healthiest things that I have ever had. I can’t lose you, because if I do-”

Solomon shushed him and held him close, letting Asmo listen to the steady drum of his heartbeat.

“I see what you mean, I want this to last too Asmodeus. You are an absolute delight and a beautiful shining light in my life,” he hesitated for a moment, biting his lip, debating whether he would actually decide to speak into existence the desires the ran through his mind, “I would- I would very much enjoy if this could be my life with you one day. To come home to your arms every day would be bliss for me.”

Asmo looked up at him. He was so nervous. It was rare to see his witty sorcerer squirm like he was now. He had borne something so vulnerable to him, and now it was completely in Asmo’s hands. 

“One day,” Asmo promised quietly, “I would love to make our little house-play permanent, and one day we will. I’m not the one you need to convince.” 

Lucifer would not take it well if Asmo dropped that he was moving in with a man he was less than fond of. He would take it even worse if he received the news over text with Asmo already moved in. Asmo liked Solomon in tact and would prefer it if he weren’t strewn into tiny pieces all over the House of Lamentation. 

The grin on Solomon’s face could light up the entirety of the Devildom and Asmo could only squeal as he was bombarded with a flurry of kisses. The laugh Solomon let out was beyond joyous, and it was contagious.

“Then I am going to do my absolute best to convince him, so that we can have our perfect little cottage on the end of town,” Solomon promised, “And then we can start a perfect little life together. Until then, do you think you could stay for a while longer? I’m not quite done playing house with you, even if it’s just for a little while longer.”

Asmo thought briefly about all the notifications on his phone, about what could possibly await him for when he eventually had to return home. It would no doubt ruin the perfect mood that he was currently swimming in. But oh the look on Solomon’s face. He was nothing but an adorable puppy in Solomon’s eyes, a puppy that he simply couldn’t ignore. 

What harm could exist in staying just a little longer? 

It would be wonderful practice for his future.

“I could see myself staying for a little while longer, especially if I get to continue to enjoy my time with you.”

Solomon’s excitement was palpable. A trill left somewhere from the back of Asmo’s throat as he was scooped up and carried out to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but admire his Solomon, the charm of his smile, the strong shape of his jawline, the pact marks that littered his body.

This could really be his life one day couldn’t it?

Mornings spent naked without the slightest ounce of sexual intent, forehead kisses while they waited for coffee and tea to brew, chilly mornings outside the cottage quietly curled up together as they sipped on their cups. Steam rising into the air as the sun cast light on the first tiny drops of morning dew on the grass beneath their feet.  Wild flowers hung haphazardly in their hair, plucked from the ground without a word and stuck wherever they would stay. 

This life was his.

One day, he would spend all of his mornings like this. 

Loved.

Content.

Cared for.

All the while, the mourning dove continued to sing, and hidden somewhere in the trees with a nest and a solitary egg. Soon a second one joined. A simple call and response between two lifelong partners haunting the quiet morning with their lingering melody carried in the light breeze that was traveling through, content with each other, and hidden from the rest of the world. 

[risingshards]

Happy STS! As the end of the year is quickly approaching, it's time to think back to the beginning. What were your writing goals this year? What stories did you hope to work on? Finish? Is there anything you didn't get to that you wish you did?

Ahhhh good question. I went back to my writing year in review and here is what I wrote last year for 2023 goals:

What do I want for next year?

I’m leaving specific narrative goals out cuz no spoilers. The gist of my goals for 2023 is:

-more readers

-me write good

-other projects

-falling shards collab

To go a little further, I’d love to continue growing my audience and maybe try to promote more to get it out there, to build the audience so that print run could be more possible. ANother thing is I really want to make 2023 like the best year of Rising Shards yet so I’m pushing myself to ensure top quality. I’m still trusting my characters and letting their voice be the important thing, but I’m trying to do a full year broad outline squared away now before I dive in more. Evy & Stella I have a lot of random scenes ready for but I still have to turn them into a narrative for 2023. 

OK actually some vague narrative goals: I want to learn to write iyashikei more. That may be tough because I had an idea for a shonen inspired arc for 2023 so I want to balance that with like a full on AdaShima Laid Back Camp all my chill healing series inspired stuff. So fluff and action and fluff. 

I’m not immediately putting too much pressure to get a lot done on my side projects for next year. I put a lot of pressure to get a lot done on ZERO this year and I didn’t get much more than zero done on it ha ha..eh… I had a seed of an idea for a new project today but I’m taking it slooooow and not diving in And none of the side projects have a higher priority than Rising Shards (which again includes Evy & Stella even if that’s technically a side series) because that’s my heart and soul project.

Something I’ve been tinkering with and kicking around in my head is doing a collab series with someone. With who I have no idea cuz I haven’t reached out to anyone about this. But I wanted to expand the RS universe and have stories that don’t fit with the light and floofy tone of RS. One idea was like a murder mystery side series about Cani on the west coast of the main series’ country that I may do on my own. And then there’s Falling Shards, the boys’ school opposite Rising Shards. As of late I’ve come to the realization that I kind of (IMO at least) suck at writing male characters now. So I think for Falling Shards I’d want someone who could do that better, write something in universe but totally different. Like instead of a floofy silly fantasy adventure with some angst and lots of lesbians in Rising Shards, like someting very different from that going on at the boy’s school. My dumb worry is that if I did find someone to do it that Falling Shards. Or that I’d have to get so much lore and world building to another writer that they wouldn’t want to. Or just not finding a collab partner for it and the little sparks of ideas I have for it just sit there. BUT that’s stuff for next year.

For these:

-more readers: I did okay here. I wish I could have done better but building reader bases is hard for web novels. (I suppose it's tough for any medium but web novels have their own specific challenges).

-me write good: I think I wrote good!

-other projects: I started a whole new series, Reborn in a Fighting Game with my Rival! It was such hard work but a lot of fun and a very rewarding challenge so far. Getting some of those Project Zero ideas that didn't go anywhere before and turning it into something fun was nice, and Amvery and Louise are new favs for me to write.

-2023 the best year of Rising Shards: IDK if I met this. I did take some bold swings and big risks and experiments, but I never feel like I got to that super deluxe "THIS IS IT THE BEST ARC YET IS ONGOING!!!" feeling right after finishing. I wanna try again next year and get better and better!

-Getting better at iyashikei inspired writing: I'm getting there. I keep getting the urge to do big action fantasy arcs in RS which are probably harder to write, but I really want a big chunk of story to feel like reading an Adachi and Shimamura novel.

-Collab!! COLLAB IS GOING. A bit slow atm because of Reborn but! I am working on something with my bestie that's super fun and I'm very hype about and love the cast of it so much.

[jan-lojuwise]

Woah I had never really stopped to think about that the original Spring Collab names were skill titles, that makes sense.

This all ends up boiling down to a lack of foresight of the people who were in charge of difficulty names in SC, to no fault of their own. So few players could even play something like Tripeak Trail back then, let alone hots. I don't think a single player from 2020 could even come close to beating The Solar Express in a reasonable amount of time. That's how much the community has evolved, but I'll have to beg to differ.

Being a contrarian, I really don't believe the new names are all that bad. It would be an entirely different story if we tried to make grandmaster refer to gm+1 and we inserted master into what is currently gm (looking at you sk) (Without even mentioning that expert and master are pretty much synonims), changing pre established patterns will just lead to confusion, just look at the hard golden list tier 0 fiasco.

Changes like these need to be methodical and thought out, I don't think we'll ever have a good and agreed upon name for gm+1, but has a name for anything ever been perfect? Even during sc development people couldn't agree upon difficulty names.

Going on a bit of a linguistic tangent here, portuguese doesn't have a gender neutral pronoun like They/Them, we had to invent one. All words are gendered. "A" for feminine (A Chave. The Key) and "O" for masculine (O Portão. The gate). All adjectives too, a good rule of thumb is that if an adjective ends in "a", then it's feminine, if it ends in "o", masculine it is. But this poses a problem, doesn't it? How do we include non binary folk?

Well the answer was to intentionally warp the language. Introduce a new pronoun. To eat other languages and digest them into our own. A new pronoun was created, one that ends in "u", thus elu/delu. Gata ou Gato (handsome) becomes Gate, Estiloso becomes Estilose, Diva becomes Dive, etc. If you think people complain that singular They/Them is confusing, you haven't even seen the scale of the culture war over here (not invalidating yalls struggle, just saying that it could be much worse).

Something I've learned, and truly believe in, from making irl non-binary friends and speaking Portuguese, is that languages should be ruled by the speaker, instead of the speaker being ruled by the language.

You can see where I'm going with this. Yes, maybe Astral or Celestial or Virtuoso or whatever isn't immedeately obvious, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘭𝘶/𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘶, but we make do. Because people felt the currently existing terminology or language to be lacking, so we had warped it and made it our own.

Someone who has never heard of portuguse gender neutral pronouns will never understand what we mean, because it is inherently alien. If I have to explain to people what gender neutral even is to be understood, why can't we simply take 10 seconds to explain to a newcomer that astral is higher than gm?

I guess this all boils down to deeply personal conflicts, but I just can't reasonably complain all the time and suffer that older irl folks don't accept change, and then go on about how the newcomers to a community I hold dear are all oblivious with their new names and changing of the status quo.

Curious to see what yall think of this

random opinion post about celeste difficulty namings

i have come to a realization that this is MY blog so i can write about whatever i want. insert an evil and mischievous grin

In Modding communities, finding a working system to classify the difficulty of mods is something pretty important, and the celeste community sticks to a handful of names for substantial difficulty stepping stones, being Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, Expert, and Grandmaster. These five were established by the 2020 Spring Collab, and since then have become the norm. However, as the community ages (holy fuck, its been three years since spring collab??) players naturally get better and mappers naturally feel comfortable making harder stuff. I am now going to discuss why I do not like the names for 99% of the harder stuff :)

obligatory note is that these are all opinions and all in good fun im not gonna explode if someone calls a celeste map astral or anything its just something which lightly ticked me off so hey thats why i write about it

One point which I'll often come back to is the usage cases of the first five difficulties. Beginner, Expert, and Grandmaster are all titles, you can call yourself a Beginner at Celeste mods, in the same way a pro chess player could call themselves a chess Grandmaster. These are subtle, but in my eyes help establish and ground the difficulty names, in my eyes if you told someone "I'm a celeste expert!" versus "I'm a celeste grandmaster!" they could probably understand grandmaster as being better, due to it's usage in other mediums. As for Intermediate and Advanced, these are words just defining skill levels. The important part though is that these have a precedent of being used and having meaning, look up advanced or intermediate on YouTube, and you'll find a lot of educational videos on things like "Advanced English Learning Practice" or "25 phrases every Intermediate English speaker must know", so on. Now for the specific GM+1 Names I don't like: Celestial, Astral, and/or Stellar: These ones I see a lot, and they feel like very weird cases. All of these are... Not skill titles! But instead words used to describe space????? When I hear "Astral Celeste Maps", the first thing that would come to mind (especially if this was my first time hearing the term) was maps relating to or themed after space, but nope! they're instead used for really really hard celeste maps. These are somewhat titles (calling yourself an astral just makes me think of a sci-fi movie), but their titles aren't for skill levels in any way, Looking up "Celestial Difficulty" on YouTube won't net you any other communities or the like which use these as difficulty markers. Maybe one community here or there use them but I doubt they are nearly as prominent as "Grandmaster" for example. Virtuoso: This one's better, although I'm still not a fan. Virtuoso is defined as someone who excels in the technique of an art, in particular a form being in the sciences or arts, also typically used in musical cases. This is a good start, and writing this has made me like the term slightly more knowing its definition, but it still falls under an arbitrary line in my eyes. What defines Virtuoso as being harder then Grandmaster? From Beginner up to Expert, I feel like the definitions of the words naturally place them in that order of difficulty. Grandmaster can be seen as arbitrary yes, but it's already been established so in my opinion there isn't all too much you can do. If you wanna hold a campaign to remove all usage of the term 'grandmaster' from celeste modding so there are more natural stepping stones from beyond that then be my guest. To get to the point, theres nothing in the definition of Virtuoso which places it as harder then Grandmaster. once again my opinion but comparing a status from international competition in a game (Grandmaster) to a word defining skill in an art (Virtuoso) feel arbitrary in my eyes. virtuoso is also goofy in my eyes so i just dont like it because of that ultimately though writing this has made me realize im fine with virtuoso but oh well. also if you knew what the word virtuoso meant without having to look it up i do not believe you are real sorry </3

yeah thats it thats the post i just kinda wanted to 'rant' about Celestial Astral and Virtuoso theyre goofy lets just stick to "Super Grandmaster" thnx, id be interested in reading someone's thoughts on the term virtuoso but otherwise goodbye have a nice night

[drxwsyni]

show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it’s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you. 

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons. 

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black. 

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

[janshu]

Inu!Bakugo...for @ultimate-astridwriting's Hybrid collab!

Summary: My part of the hybrid collab. I had so much fun writing an angry Pomeranian Bakugo. 10/10 would do again. I'm not completely happy with it but who ever is? I'm still proud of myself!

Word count: 2.2k.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Bakugo being an ass, sexual content, somnophilia, collars, choking, humping, creampie, name calling (bitch, slut, whore etc.), use of the word cunt.

You sigh as you rummage around in your pocket to produce the key to your home. After a long day's work all you want to do is get some dinner, take a bath and go to bed but none of those things would be possible would they?

No, not after the spur of the moment decision to adopt a hybrid of all things. The week earlier was one of torrential downpours and near freezing temperatures, the roads making a slushy substance of half-melted ice and salt to prevent the very thing it was being mixed in with. People stayed indoors the best they could when they weren't at work but life had to shit on you and make your car breakdown in the parking garage. Umbrella rested on your shoulder, rain boots on your feet with your spare in your bag and you trudged through cold, mushy hell back home. The streets were barren as a Walmart on a weekday at 4am, no life passing by you until you crossed an alley between two businesses. A pathetic whimper had caught your attention and your gaze drifted down to a soaked cardboard box. What was in that box you weren't sure if you should curse or love. A hybrid.

Narrow red eyes stared at you in suspicion, fangs bared at you but the creature didn't make any attempts to nip at your fingers when they neared to ruffle the spikey head of hair. The hybrid had leaned into your touch before recoiling away as if you had smacked him. The black and orange collar had seen better days, the charm that dangled on the hollow of his neck read "Dynamite" but he didn't give any indication that was his name when you repeated it outloud. He was barely dressed in anything, a thin t-shirt, shorts with ragged Converse that had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truthfully he looked a few days away from starvation and how could you keep that on your conscience if you left him there? After laying your warm coat over his shoulders you somehow, someway, managed to get him back to your place. Everything went downhill from there in the blink of an eye.

The weak puppy persona was gone the moment warm food settled in his belly and within the hour he acted as if you had crowned him king of the house. Beginning his rambles of curses, demands and biting at your fingers. The worst of it happened when you tried to take his collar off for a new one, one that wasn't frayed and barely hanging on. "Katsuki" as he spat out his name with enough venom to put a Black Mamba to shame had flipped over a coffee table, ripped up every couch cushion and went so far to chew on the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

No doubt you'd be greeted with the same sight as always. Messy, dirty, unknown stains everywhere and dishes still in the sink waiting to be moved to the washer. Maybe if he wasn't such a loud ass you could train him but your frazzled nerves were at their wits end. You didn't know what to do, you were about to throw in the towel and put him up for adoption. Yep, you were disappointed to be proven right. Katsuki reclining on the couch lengthwise, remote in his hand with the most bored expression on his face while idly flipping through channels.

"Fucking finally, you're home! I've been waitin' for fucking hours for your ass to get back! I'm hungry, get your shitty ass in the kitchen and make dinner." He barked. Barely giving you any time to hang up your coat and slip off your shoes before his orders began.

"Katsuki...I can't, not tonight." Could your voice portray anymore pleading? Apparently not because he didn't seem to notice, or care.

The fluffy ear at the top of his head only flicked in response, the top lip curling into his signature snarl. "Then what the fuck are you good for? Get your fucking ass in that god damn kitchen and fucking make dinner already."

All that you were good for? All that you were good for? How dare he! He's been freeloading off you for a week now without so much as a thanks for saving him from the streets, feeding him, clothing him, keeping him warm and dealing with his bullshit and this is how he repays you?

"I've fucking had it with you!" Your voice rose higher than you meant to but at this point you didn't care, a line had been crossed. "You fucking sit there and ruin my shit and yet I'm the useless one? I have half a mind to kick you out! You can make your own fucking dinner, I've had it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!"

Despite not having any clunky shoes on your feet still managed to resonate in the small living room while you stormed past the couch. You had expected anything, anything at all. A slap, a punch, a groan, literally anything but you were met with only silence and that somehow pissed out off even more. How could silence be so infuriating?! You didn't even notice the terror that washed over his face as you screamed at him or the way his chest heaved with the sob or how he trembled underneath your wrathful gaze as you walked away. The bedroom door slamming made short work of that.

"Fuck I'm such an ass.." You mused to yourself already regretting blowing up at him but what would an apology do that wasn't already broken? So better yet why not send yourself to bed without dinner as some kind of punishment? He'd linger at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you with those intense eyes if you made dinner anyways so why let him win? He could his own shit for fucks sake!

After a quick shower to dethaw your bones and warm up what was left of your dead soul the softness of your pajamas helped ease the guilt gnawing away like a puppy on its first bone. Laying in bed until sleep eventually overcame you and when he knew it was safe to slip in and sneak over towards your bedside.

Rustling was what woke you. The rustling of clothes and the jingle of something metallic in the darkness of the bedroom. Whatever grogginess you normally suffered when waking up was vanishing the more details were dissected and understood by your half-asleep brain, a process that took an embarrassingly long time. Clothes rustling, the bedsheets moving, heavy pants and something incredibly warm nudging up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Naturally your brain assumed the worst and your eyelids flew open to show nothing; at first. As your eyes adjusted to the pitch black room they found the blazing stare of those vermillion eyes, the bared fangs that belonged to your hybrid.

What the hell was Katsuki doing on top of you?

Noticing that you were awake the snarl turned into a smirk as he huffed, his large chest expanding with each desperate pant. Why did your folds feel so good just as you were waking up?

"Feel that?" How could you not? The feel of a scorching cock bumping up your folds and sensitive clit, wet from the pre leaking from the tip. There was so much of it from what you could feel, too sticky to be your own. His hips had yet to cease moving, no word from your shocked form to still his rutting hips.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Was the most logical question your brain could come up with in the moment.

"Humping...fucking dumbass." His warm breath created goosebumps on your cool skin, his head must've been so close to yours by the hair tickling your forehead. "Tryin'ta...help ya. Shitty woman.."

"Help? How the fuck is this helping?"

"You've been working so hard so I thought maybe...a good fuck would calm ya down, relax ya." Katsuki's voice was so desperate, so needy, the humping of his cock on your labia increasing.

He was trying to help? He was going to fuck the frustration out of you? Is that was he was offering? Having sex with a hybrid was common enough to not be considered taboo but you couldn't help but feel he was trying to worm his way into your good graces. Unless your words had struck some kind of cord with him. "Okay, alright, I'll let you help."

"Fuck yeah!"

With that the head of his cock nudged against your cunt, already spread and waiting for him. How long had he been doing this for? The burn of the stretch was delicious, he was just big enough to fill you up but not hurt. Settling right up to kiss the tip of your cervix when he bottomed out. His hands grip at your thigh and hip, pulling his back to slam his cock right back into you. Over and over, over and over, over and over. Practically using you as a fleshlight to get himself off but damn if it didn't feel good, him bouncing you on his cock so roughly each thrust was sending the headboard against the wall.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Katsuki!" Your hands pat around and eventually find his biceps and you cling on for dear life, your nails digging crescent shaped markings into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah...you like this form of stress relief, don'tcha you dirty slut?" Undoing the collar around his neck the frayed cloth of the strap is tied around your neck, the buckle clamping down tightly to constrict your airflow while two fingers slip under it to pull and tug. "You're my dirty fucking slut! Mine...mine...mine...mine, fucking mine!"

Your fingers trailed down the tiny amount of space between your bodies down to the precious, neglected nub between your legs. Barely able to wiggle your index and middle finger down there from the rabid fucking you were receiving to circle the bundle of nerves and send yourself over the edge. Each clap of your thighs smacking against each other forcing your hate for his behavior ebbing away. If he was going to act like this all the time how could you kick him out?

"F-fuck! Gonna cum...fucking cum..cum for me. Cum with me!" Katsuki snarled as the pressure around your throat increased. Your hand was smacked away from your clit and was replaced with the large pad of his thumb, frantic circles sending your body into a writhing mess of flails and kicks.

The orgasm that had been steadily building from your ministrations had been ripped away and replaced with one quickly approaching to push you over the edge. The white hot pleasure-coil that formed underneath your belly button snapped and all of it coursed through your system in one go. Paralyzing your body for a split second as you squirted all over the hybrids cock, his still rubbing hand sending the liquid everywhere. Coating his thighs, your thighs and the bed underneath you.

"Fucking fuck! Such a whore, such a dirty girl for me! Oh my fucking g-god!" One last slam of his hips and his own body stilled, burying his cock deep inside your cunt to shoot his cum deep in your womb. He stuttered before his body collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his sweaty muscles.

Bathing in the afterglow, coming down from your high you could've sworn you heard something. Mumbling, soft mumbling too indistinct to understand. Katsuki's head laying on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone and was he laying kisses here and there? No, you must've been seeing things. Still buried to the hilt he turned his head to speak, his fluffy ears perked and his tail gently swishing behind him. The sudden light from your phone illuminated the room, casting light on Katsuki's face and the sight made your breath hitch in your throat. Clearly he had been crying. Tear stains streaked down his cheeks, brows knitted together and the same lost look he had plastered on his face appeared again.

"Please, please don't kick me out. I'll do anything, please...please don't abandon me. Not again." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he hid his face in your neck. Voice breaking, shoulders trembling, the verge of crying all over again quickly approaching.

Your heart broke and you returned the favor by hugging him around the shoulders, a hand carding through his hair to soothe him. Had he been abandoned? Did his previous owners not like him? Was all his aggressiveness some kind of defense mechanism? Was he giving you a reason to kick him out to keep himself from experiencing that kind of pain again? Oh, poor baby. "Never again...just don't destroy things anymore, okay? Help me around the place a little more will ya?"

"Yes." Katsuki snuggled on top of you. Finally believing he had a real home with you, a place where he could belong. "....Master."

[sirthisisa-wendys]

One Wall Over: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re new in the neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a warm welcome from your duplex buddy. 

wc: 3k

tw: nsfw, smut, annoying noises at five am, the works 

a/n: ahhhhhhhhh! I am so excited to be taking part in this collab with @suna-reversed reversed for a super sexy jjk collab! Please check out the masterlist for the collab here and the other authors! SO EXCITED TO READ THE OTHERS! (The other title I had for this work is “First of All, How Dare You” because that’s literally me every time I see my hubby Suguru, but anywho!).

Moving in was a bitch. 

For the first time ever, you have no roommates, no parents, and no pets - just you and your meager belongings moving into the little, two-story duplex a friend allowed you to sublet. As you stare out of the window facing the sparse front lawn, you wonder what your neighbor is like. They hadn’t come to welcome you to the home, but you knew they existed by the sound of the bass through your shared wall at five am every morning. 

You assume they’re male or a couple, but you’ve never gotten a chance to see them with your own two eyes.  So you kept a lookout day after day. At exactly four p.m., you would sit across from the window with a book and keep watch, the sun streaming in and illuminating your figure and crossed legs anchored on the window sill. But day after day, you wouldn’t see anything. The neighbor’s car wouldn’t even move an inch from the previous day. Everything would remain the same until the next day when you took your perch by the window. 

It isn’t until you’re out on your front lawn, slaving over the flowers you maintained for a whole month - a new record - that the sleek Range Rover drives up to the garage on your neighbor’s side of the house. At first, you don’t notice it, your eyes firmly planted on the soil at the root of your orchid tree. But then you hear a car door slam, and you look up, watching for the person who would be exiting the vehicle. 

A tall, black haired man slides out of the truck and slams the door shut, his locks tucked into a half bun and a white towel resting around his rippling shoulders. He slides his keys into his gym shorts and turns to walk into the house, barely noticing you on the front lawn in an ill-fitting t-shirt and dirty yoga pants. 

He’s halfway to his front door when you find your voice and yell out, “Hey, neighbor!” You wave your hand at him in hopes that he would return the gesture, but you’re sorely disappointed when he only looks your way with disinterest and walks into the house without speaking. You frown at the encounter, hoping that he would return a little while later and explain his lack of manners, but he doesn’t, and you retreat into the house once more. 

______________________________________________________________________

“Unzzz, unzz, unzzzz…” Both eyes fly open at the sound of the bass on the other side of your bedroom wall, the sudden noise jarring you from your sleep. 

“Ugh…” Your eyes slide to the white numbers on the clock face, which politely remind you that it’s five-fifteen AM. Don’t confront him, don’t confront him. You wrap the pillow around your ears, hoping the gentle cushion would block out the sound. But for some reason, it gets even louder, and a groan escapes your lips. There were only two more hours for you to rest, but at this rate, you’d be up until it was time for you to wake and get ready for work. That just wouldn’t do. 

The grey sweatpants deposited on the floor the night before are quickly jerked on, and you pad to the front door, not caring about your appearance as you walk the length of the porch over to his front door. Inhaling, you find the will to bring your fist up and pound on the door, hoping the sound would be angrier than you actually felt. Fear ate at your nerves while you waited. A few agonizing moments later, the door is yanked open, music floods outside, and your neighbor stands before you in just a pair of black sweatpants. Nothing else. 

“What?” he gripes, sweat rolling down his forehead. As your eyes take in the full sight of him, you wonder what kind of sculpted god you had for a neighbor. You could even faintly see the v that would culminate in the bulge near the crotch area of the pants, which apparently is quite--

“Uh…” You had entirely forgotten what you had come over to his side of the house for, but as he leans on the doorframe and gives you a withering stare, you suddenly remember your complaint. “Your wall is next to my bedroom. Can you turn your music down?” You place a hand on your hip, trying to seem more inconvenienced than you actually were in that moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” He shuts the door in your face, and you trudge back over to your side of the house, hoping the music would soften. 

But for some reason, you swear he turns it up even louder. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“Why don’t you just call the landlord and make a noise complaint?” your friend wonders over the phone, the sound of a frying pan in the background slightly overshadowing her voice.

“But you said you didn’t have any problems with him, Mariela.” 

“Yeah, Geto was nice enough and didn’t bother me much. Not sure why he’s being such an ass now.” You hear an oh, shit on the other end, and Mariela hisses into the receiver, “Hey, y/n, I have to go; the risotto is burning. Call me back if you have any other issues, okay?” 

“Okay.” You hang up and toss your phone on your desk, trying to focus on the words in front of you but failing as the sound of the bass filters through the other side of the wall again. For the fourth day in a row, you’ve been subjected to the sound of pure noise coming through the other side. Tonight was absolutely not the night, mostly because you had a presentation that took you all night to finish, and the clamor was interrupting your prep work for the bright and early eight o’clock meeting. You feel like Squidward, subjecting yourself to the endless noises from the grunting to the bass to the sound of weights clanking back into place. 

It’s the sound of Geto’s groaning that sets you on edge the most. If it weren’t for the added noise of weights, you’d be convinced he was fucking someone. There was no way he could make so much noise and not know that he was disturbing your peace. Hadn’t he ever heard of headphones? 

You snatch up your set of earbuds on your desk, place them in your ears, and try to turn up lofi music as loud as it will go. But that doesn’t work. Even relocating to the living room didn’t seem to fare you well, and you wonder if he truly had cranked up the music higher than before just to annoy the hell out of you. Finally, you toss your earbuds down and slam your computer on your coffee table. 

You’d had enough. 

Stomping over to the front door, you fling it open and bang on Geto’s door, hoping he would answer it in a rage so you could let out your frustrations. But when the door flies open, he’s dressed in only a pair of gym shorts, this time the outline of his dick even more apparent. But you’re not focused on that. You point a finger at him and inhale to begin your tirade; sick and utterly over his shit.

“Hey! Can you fucking turn it down?” Geto stretches out a hand, and for a minute you think he’s going to grab you by the shirt, but he pulls you inside by the wrist, crushing you against his chest. “What the hell?” You push away from his sweaty chest, backing into the closed door harshly. 

“Lower your damn voice; the neighbors will hear,” he chastises, and turns away from you to grab the water bottle on the counter. The muscled man takes a long swig, then wipes his face with the towel right next to it. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’ve never been so disrespected in my li--” As you talk, he’s advancing on you, pushing back his long black hair back behind his ears and getting too close for comfort. Once he’s right up on you, you gulp hard, fully intimidated by his size and stature. The music suddenly stops, and you’re left in silence. 

“I’m listening,” he mutters, staring down at you. “Please, continue.” 

“I was saying…” your throat dries up. “What I meant was…” Your eyes travel from his chest to his navel, and then to the hand pressed against the doorframe.

“Uh huh…” He nods, squinting his black eyes at you. “You said you’ve ‘never been more disrespected in your’… life, right?” You don’t reply. Rather, you can’t reply. All of the words you could have ever said are now gone from your skull. “I highly doubt that, y/n.” 

“H-how…” 

“You’re Mariela’s friend. I’ve seen you quite a few times before you moved in here. Never thought I’d be living so close to you, though. Mariela’s subletting, isn’t she?” 

All of these questions. And you can’t reply to a single one because he’s practically squeezing you between the door and his rock-hard abs. Or are you pressing yourself against the door to get away from the heat emitting from his body - oh, fuck; you don’t know. 

“But I had to get your attention somehow.” The admission startles you so bad that you accidentally knock the back of your head against the door, touching the point of contact in pain and hissing slightly. Geto hums at your blunder, then pushes off of the wall to turn away from you. As he rotates, you catch a glimpse of his erection, now fully apparent in the atrocity that is his shorts. “The yard work wasn’t effective, the trips to the gym and back barely worked; shit, by now I would’ve thought you would throw yourself at me the first chance you got. I guess I had to make you mad enough to confront me.” 

“You literally looked at me and said nothing the first time I saw you!” you retort, throwing your hands up in the air. “Then you almost bit my head off the first time I came over to tell you the music was too loud.” 

“I didn’t expect you to come over the first time. Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything smooth enough in that short amount of time.” Geto shrugs, his shoulder muscles moving like water in the dim lighting of the living room. You look around at the furnishings, noting his impeccable taste in wood and red suede in conjunction with his minimal exercise equipment. “Coffee? You look like you’ve been up for a while.” He leans over a coffee-maker - one of those fancy ones that you’ve seen on TV - and slides a plain coffee cup into the holder. 

“Uh, no thanks.” You turn to the door and begin to open it, but Geto clicks his tongue thrice. 

“You’re just going to leave without getting what you came for?”

You pause for a moment, then turn back to look him over once. “Don’t you mean what you brought me over here for?” A lazy smile spreads across his face, and that’s when you realize that he’s charming, but not necessarily as suave as you first imagined. You shut the door and walk over to him, examining his physique as if you hadn’t just helped yourself to his tall, statuesque figure already. He allows you to look him over, eyes dedicatedly following you.

“Like what you see, doll?” You don’t get a chance to answer as he pulls you into his chest with a smooth movement, then presses his lips against yours. You instantly open your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside, and he does so without hesitation. Hands grasp at your flimsy night shirt, pulling it over your shoulders as he backs you up against the wall, hiking one leg up and wrapping the other around his waist. 

As both of your hands tangle in hair, fabric, sweat, you wonder how long - just how long - he’s wanted to do this. But your train of thought is rudely interrupted by his lips trailing kiss down your neck and to your collarbone, where he pauses for a second, catching his breath. Fingers dance through his locks and he peers up at you for a second, drinking in your flushed expression and breathy exhales. 

“Geto, please, I--” You’re silenced again by his lips, his thick fingers rolling past the waistband of your night shorts and right to your core, where he nestles them into your heat with ease. 

“Goddamn…” The rumbling of his voice vibrates against your chest, and you gasp, feeling every stroke of his fingers inside of you. “So fucking wet… just for me.” Your vision narrows in on the black eyes watching your every move, the angle of your face, the way you tilt your chin to the side and shakily exhale. Everything is perfect. Maybe even better than he imagined at first. But you don’t know that, and you really don’t care to know. All you want is release and for that release to be at Geto’s hands. When he removes his fingers and hoists you onto the suede couch, your first reaction is to cry out in shock. 

His hands roll your shorts down to your knees and then press your legs open, spreading you for him to examine. 

“You’re a mess down there… perhaps I should help you clean up.” 

“Huh?” The double entendre is completely lost on you in the heat of the moment. You watch as he leans down, then moves to lick your core with a flat tongue, stroking up before he goes down again and repeats his action twice. Your head finds the soft cushion of the pillow in ecstasy, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

Geto hums down below, fully appreciating your taste before sucking on your clit, hard. You yelp, shooting up, but his hand presses you back down, eyes still closed. Fingers make their way up to your breasts, tugging at your nipples leisurely before tightening and pulling with more tension. “Oh, god, please…” Your hands find his head, and at the sudden application of pressure, he grunts again. And you’re left there in agonizing pleasure, dangling between an orgasm and a build-up of pressure, one stroke away from tumbling into the cavern of blissful unawareness. 

Geto stops without warning, pulling back to watch you as he still tweaks your nipples with varying degrees of firmness. You tug at his shorts in a silent plea for him to discard them, and he waits a minute before sliding them off wordlessly. His length is impressive, you note, his cock springing free from his shorts and angled upwards a little. A condom is produced just as quickly, and he rolls it over himself before spreading you a little wider to accommodate his length. When he nudges his cock at your slit, you realise he’s a little breathless and shaking, but that all goes to the back of your mind when he slides inside of you with little resistance. 

“Fuck, doll, that’s--” He groans just as you moan, both of you relishing the expanding feeling. “God, that’s perfect.” You whimper at his praise and bring your hands to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he begins to pump into you. Geto’s lips find your neck and he sucks a hickey on your left side, placing another one neatly below it while his hands cup your ass. 

“Does that feel good?” He whispers and you nod, completely at a loss for words. But soon, it’s not enough, and your fingers dig into his back. He’s fucking you slowly… too slowly. 

“M-more,” you whine, and he delivers his thrusts faster, pumping into you and moaning loudly. Your fingers find his face and angles it towards your raised head so you can kiss him on the lips. He offers you that mercy - a deep, languid kiss - while he plows into you with abandon. Pleasure is the only thing on your minds - you just so happen to have found it in each other’s arms - and your orgasm is just within reach.

“Geto, I’m close…” His response to your words is to lift your left leg a little higher so it practically hung off the couch and in the air, deeping his strokes until they settled against your cervix, like someone tapping a soft rhythm into your stomach. “Shit, like that.” 

“Yeah?” he exhales, looking at your face with a blissed-out expression, his cheeks reddening. You raise your hips to meet his with each thrust, hoping your orgasm would arrive before Geto came. There isn’t much you can do though, besides writhe beneath him and pull him closer to you, thereby making you and him almost inseparable. He’s merely rocking into your hips now, cock barely rolling out of you as before. And you can’t deny that it feels like heaven, not when you’ve been so frustrated for so long. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Geto hisses into your mouth, and you nod, constricting a little to urge him on. What you fail to realize is that the constriction was just what you need to tumble over into the abyss of thoughtlessness, and your mouth opens to let loose a guttural moan as Geto fucks you faster and faster, chasing his own orgasm on the heels of yours. “Oh, shit,” Your neighbor sinks into you one final time, shooting his cum into the condom, but pumping in stuttered strokes as if he were really letting loose inside of you. 

When you both fall from the heights of your sex-induced high, shoulders and heads are draped where there is comfort and space, little exhales from his mouth fanning across your breasts. Geto lifts off of your sweaty chest and looks you in the eyes before breathing: 

“Maybe I should start my days with this instead of a workout.”

[mihotose]

nijiiro passions-gumi (chemii, emorin) + lu

emorin says its been 7.5 months since ijigen and chemii says she was walking past it with her friends the other day and she was like "ive performed in there." its the pride of her life. she still cant believe it

this is the first time the three of them have properly met (they didnt do a song together) so they decide what to call each other. lu is normally lu-chan and gives permission for them to call her that

chemii explains the niji members tend to just call her tanaka but she thinks thatd be weird so people also call her chemii/chemii-san/chemii-chan. lu goes with chemii-chan

emorin says she's emorin or emo and so lu decides on emo-chan. so theyre lu-chan, chemii-chan, emo-chan now

emorin says the nijiiro passions was her first time working with members from other groups, and she was so happy she got to participate in a song as fun as this, the s1 op! she always felt really happy after practice and chemii thanks her for performing it feeling like that

chemii says she's only performed nijiiro passions with the nine niji members so she was really nervous about being centre at tokyo dome, but before it, sekine-san (the other person she and emorin did it with) brought them together and said they'd do their best, and it turned out to be really fun and she still thinks about it

after watching the video chemii says she was the most nervous when the platform came up, and emorin says the higher they got and the more penlights they could see the faster her heart went

they move on to tokonatsu sunshine and chemii says the quality of liella-chan's performances is so high she can't look away. lu adds everyone looks like they're having so much fun and she can't see enough at once

emorin explains tokonatsu sunshine was originally a song by the five members of gen1 [actually ren wasn't in it lol], and ijigen was maybe the second time they performed it as eleven

chemii praises nako's dance after the video and emorin says she really practised a lot backstage. lu says watching it now really shows how perfect it was and the self discipline to practise so much

chemii says they're able to produce such quality performances because of all the effort they put into it, not just their dancing, but their expressions too, and that even though the first five members are "gen1" they still haven't been doing activities for that long, but they look like a group that have been together for many years

lu adds that the long skirts of the jump into the new world outfits getting caught on their legs seem like itd be a problem but the way they handle it doesn't make it feel that way. chemii says even though theyre doing such difficult things they make them look easy, and they conclude that liella really are "idols." emorin says she'll let the rest of liella know!!

lu says for dye the sky the choreography was simple, but they were told to make each movement sharp and cool which was difficult for her. there was also a kick at the end of the first verse which was her first time doing that

chemii says she wants to do songs like dye the sky too! emorin agrees, and they say neither of them have done a big kick like that. lu says she has a cute song image and chemii says she can't imagine her character doing a kick but maybe she could if it was a collab! they ask for another ijigen!!

chemii says there were one hundred songs over the two days and she loved them all but if she had to pick, it'd be READY!! lu says the imas team were jealous because they wanted to sing their senpai's songs too, but chemii reminds her of course they got to sing snow halation

chemii says she's always loved idolmaster, and she sang READY!! all the time at karaoke in high school, and even has videos of her doing it, so to sing this song as a love live member at tokyo dome was like a dream come true

lu says it was the same for her with bokura wa ima no naka de! when she saw the footage of her performing it she couldn't believe it. she talks about how they adjusted the choreography because of the hand mics but it was really fun doing the big jump at the end

emorin says she can't pick either, but it would have to be ijigen big bang. she wondered whether they were allowed such a luxury. there were some groups they didn't get to collab with, but for ijigen big bang every performer participated, and she won't forget how tokyo dome's stage was packed from end to end

lu says she could hear everyone's "wow wow" in the chorus through her iems, and it was a time when all the idols and all the fans were connected

chemii says it was nice being able to walk around without any choreography to do and emorin talks about hugging and high fiving everyone. lu talks about the big monitor with lots of different cameras and how there was so much to look at all the time

lu highlights wachu gonna do as well because it was so catchy! chemii says she was really happy that everyone joined in backstage too as the choreography is simple and easy to do. lu says the cinderella group were doing it as they left the stage

chemii talks about jungle party, which was just before she and emo-chan did njiiro passions, and it was in her head while she was performing lol. she and emorin say it really helped with their nerves

speaking of nerves, lu brings up aozora jumping heart, the very first song from day 1, where they all came out and sang the beginning together. she says the imas team couldn't figure out the timing because there wasn't a countdown in the iems so they asked aqours and they said they'd figure it out lol

the title of chemii's backstage story is "reliable senpai" who turns out to be aqours' inami anju-san! she was reliable the whole time of course, but she wants to talk specifically about the rehearsals for ijigen big bang, when they got to walk around without choreography

chemii made eye contact with her (the others chime in they did too) and she talks about how when that happened she'd come up to them and put her arm around them and squeeze their hand. they talk about how it was hard for kouhai during rehearsals to approach the senpai but they were able to do it when the senpai asked them over

they also talk about how inami-san was running at 100%, or 120% even, even at rehearsals, such that it felt like they were performing for real. her walking around felt like a performance in itself, and emorin says she had a golden aura. lu says she had an overwhelming "centre" feeling, and her MCs was amazing. emorin says she wants to be a senpai like that

emorin's story is how ijigen was the first time she had worked with hasunosora! one day liella and hasu-chan got on the same train from rehearsals, and up til then they had been too busy at rehearsals to talk to each other, but they managed to talk on the train, and since then they've gotten closer and some of them have gone out for dinner together. emorin's been out for dinner with kan kanna-chan! she was really glad this event allowed them to get closer with other groups

chemii says liella-chan and hasu-chan are like the same generation, and emorin agrees, saying liella feels hasu are like classmates. chemii says liella-chan are quite shy, and emorin says they're fine talking once they've built up the courage to talk for the first time. once they've done that they'll be able to keep talking!

lu's story is about how the morning of genepuro everyone was stretching before they started. the imas team were stretching on their yoga mats when the liella-san team joined in behind them and put on a high energy danceable pop song. she realised it was for isolation exercises to warm up their joints one by one and thought it was amazing how different their routines were

emorin says all love live groups probably do isolation exercises and chemii says they do but she can't do them lol

lu asks what they do after their isolation exercises and emorin says they ice themselves for fifteen minutes and lu's like "like sports??"

she also compliments the love live-san team for being able to perform so well for both days and chemii says ijigen was more of a fes where they didn't sing that much compared to their full lives where taking care of their bodies is especially important. emorin says they asked their senpai how to take care of themselves and were able to overcome it thanks to them

lu asks if they have pre live routines. chemii says she looks at herself in the mirror and hypes herself up to encourage herself, though she's only started doing it lately. emorin says she'll try it too!

lu says hers is to get slapped on the back and chemii says niji do that to each other too!

emorin says hers is eating since liella is a group full of big eaters. they'll be eating until about fifteen minutes before they start. chemii says she can't eat before performances and emorin says on days of full lives they'll be eating like five or six meals lol

they can't believe its the end! they want to talk more! and they want to do ijigen again!

ijigen radio (calling the imas seiyuu by family name since i dont know nicknames)

inoue says kan-san was amazing in how she always practised her choreography right up until she had to go on. kankan gets flustered and says inoue and shuka are amazing as well and they made her feel really comfortable. shuka says theyre both cute

inoue, shuka, and kankan were the first collab unit singing let's sail away on day 1, and theyre really grateful they got to be the top batters

after watching a clip of their performance kankan tells them how the other hasunosora members kept making fun of her for blocking her face with her hand mic when looking through the telescope she had made with her hands lmao (also brought up on mirapa radio). inoue tells her the actual move was making a telescope with one hand (with the mic in the other)

shuka says when aqours were given the choreography for dreamy color it was a kind of dance they hadnt really done before, so they thought it was nice to have grown a little. kankan and inoue gush over how beautiful they were performing it

they talked about the cute lotus image of the eien no euphoria choreo and since kankan and inoue collabed on both it and let's sail away shuka complains its unfair and she wants to do the lotus moves too lol (kankan: i wanted you to join too 🥺)

shuka's top song that left an impression on her was doing aozora jumping heart with everyone to open day 1

kankan was really moved by the other members working together with the senpai during the collab songs. also! one of her friends from university was in sukumyu (minamino hana) and theyve always wanted to perform on the same stage together someday, so she was really happy for it to happen at ijigen. she watched the sukumyu songs while backstage and liked that they started off the second half

inoue liked going on the carts! shuka is jealous aqours didnt get a go on those special big carts

inoue says akarin teased her during a rehearsal of ijigen big bang one time when she happened to be next to her and she got obsessed and every rehearsal after tried to find her to keep going. shuka tries to tsukkomi this but says this is something only kitou-chan can do. kankan's like "this bond of theirs is nice" and shuka's like "idk about a Bond" and then inoue's like "our bond has deepened because of the teasing." shuka then recommends this method to get close to people since it was april

the next behind the scenes anecdote is titled "she barged into aqours' dressing room!?" and shuka's like "this one could only be mine guys" when the others try and make it a mystery

shuka says kurosawa tomoyo came to hang out in aqours' dressing room, since even though she voices an imas girl, she also voices you's cousin tsuki! which made shuka feel weird since it was like looking at two different people. she talks about how they hung out and took videos together and kankan adds she saw them and that they have the same vibes. inoue says they do have the same kind of fun approachable aura

kankan's anecdote was how she was able to take lots of photos with her senpai, but the most memorable was the one with cyaron. she really wanted to take a photo with them but she was scared to ask since theyre her senpai. she was just outside the dressing room when she saw them and she must have been staring because furirin-paisen asked what was up and that's when she was able to speak to them and finally ask for a photo, and thats how she was able to have the confidence to talk to other senpai too. she says aqours are really good at closing the distance and shes really grateful they all posted the photos with her on twitter

shuka says there was pressure not to mess up the songs from the other work, and they were worried how the fans would feel, but theyre really glad P and love live fans accepted them. but even then behind the scenes was a pain w but everyone had fun! thats how she'd sum it up. it was fun!

[seijorhi]

To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear. 

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place. 

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”  

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you. 

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. 

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words. 

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.” 

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks. 

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf? 

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of. 

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots. 

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago. 

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word. 

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?” 

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t. 

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs. 

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt. 

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. 

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

 (Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you. 

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to… 

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts. 

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick. 

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control. 

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours. 

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core. 

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

[katsukikitten]

Rapacious - rə-ˈpā-shəs- excessively grasping or covetous, living on prey,  ravenous

(A rapacious appetite only for you my doll)

Hello and welcome to my first formal collab with the lovely @lady-bakuhoe Our thirsty dms finally turned into a full blown collab where our writing melds into one. I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

✧Triggers and Warnings ✧

Pro Hero Dynamight, aged up AU, adult themes, such as intense sexual interaction, yandere behavior, mind break (?), branding, and dub con. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable please do not read any further. Thank you.

The snow comes down heavily, beautifully as it sticks and clings to anything it can. Blanketing the outside world in an unsullied shimmer bringing a smile to your face as you watch the sun dip low over the horizon. The light painting the world in stunning reds and pinks as it filters in through your bay window that faces the street. A small shiver runs through your spine as you wait impatiently for your warm tea, convincing yourself that the chill has nothing to do with your outfit. An oversized Red Riot t-shirt, a pair of black dolphin shorts and black thigh high socks, it was comfortable and you felt cute. Even if it was just for yourself, besides what else would one wear to their solo Netflix binging? Surely not pants. 

A rapid knock comes at the door. Harsh, precise as you jump out of your skin, nearly dropping your mug. 

Lifting your cell phone to check the time, wondering who could be knocking at this hour, it was far too late for any visitors and it surely wasn't the post. The icy snow ensured that most people would be snuggled into their couches with a warm cup of tea, tucked away from the harsh weather. Much like you were trying to do, maybe if you ignored it the unsuspecting visitor would move on. 

But another sharp knock echoes around your living room, urging your feet to move. You pad through your small townhouse, trying to get a glimpse through the window only for the unwanted guest to be standing just out of view. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at the thick oak door, debating on whether to open it or not as another knock sounded from the other side. Curiosity with a hint of fear compels your fingers as you click your door onto the chain latch. Opening it slightly, looking out between the crack in the door to see who it was.

“H-hi.” Your eyes caught sight of the man outside your house, pupils widening in surprise at the sight of him. Messy ash blond spikes on top of his head as his hair faded to a low buzz cut at the sides, “Dynamight?” 

The man's scowl morphed into a smirk at your recognition, obviously proud that you knew who he was, his vermilion eyes glistening in the light gleaming from your house as you moved to take the door off the security latch, opening it fully so you could see him properly. His gaze immediately drank you in, glancing at the thigh high socks that hugged your thighs as he made his way up to the hem of your shirt, cherishing the exposed skin of your upper thighs until he noticed the shirt you were wearing. His nostrils flaring slightly at the sight of his best friend's face across your chest. It should be his. 

“My car broke down.” He motioned to the car that now sat motionless at the end of your drive, fresh snow already falling and covering its windscreen, “Can I come inside?” 

"Oh, um…" You're hesitant, technically you didn't know Dynamight but he was a pro hero. That meant he could be trusted right? Snow sticks to his blonde strands and shoulders. His hands and nose were a little red making it seem as if he had been in the cold a touch too long. Swallowing your fear you take a step back from the door, arm gesturing for him to come in. Silently elated he steps in as if he owns the place. What were the odds he would end up at your doorstep? 

"Um, can I offer you some coffee? Coco? Tea?" Your voice sounds small, stupid. Nervousness prickles over your skin as he sinks into your couch. 

"Tea is fine." His voice is silky and foreign in your warm home. He watches you with sharp eyes as you reach for a mug. Your short shorts ride up just a bit as your shirt gives him a tease of your back. 

Meanwhile you're buzzing from head to toe, THE one and ONLY Dynamight, the man you'd been dreaming of since his debut, the only face and voice that you ever imagined when your hands ventured into your soaked panties, was here. In your home, sitting on your couch and oh Gods...Which blanket did you have out? Was it his that you sprayed with his line of cologne so you would feel less lonely in your apartment? 

The kettle howls pulling you violently back to the task at hand. Should you ask him how he'd like his tea? You already know how he likes it, having read it in a magazine once committing it to memory in case you ever met him. But would that come off too strong? You settle on making it perfectly  in hopes it would paint you in the light of a "great hostess."  You grab onto the cup and turn to face the ill tempered hero head on. 

He turns away in time, relaxed on your couch as you offer him his cup. He takes it from your hands, his cool fingers brushing against yours. He takes a sip, peering at you over the rim. His vermillion eyes cause your stomach to flip as you nervously twist the hem of your shirt. His eyes rake over you with a smirk before they land on your worrying hands and that damned Red Riot shirt. Suddenly you're hyper aware of your inappropriate outfit, tugging your shirt over your exposed skin. 

His large palm settles on your thigh, starling you. 

"The outfit isn't the problem. I just think you look much better in my shirt." He tugs at the hem, "Maybe you should take this one off." 

“W-what?” You stammered, your body instinctively shrinking away from his touch.

“There’s just something about the way my face looks stretched against those tits.” He smirked, taking a sip of the warm mug before slipping it into your coffee table.

“What do you mean?” Confusion evident in your tone. What was he talking about? Your Dynamight merchandise? How would he have any idea about how much of a fan you were of him, just how many of his shirts sat in your closet right now. 

“Don’t act all coy.” Bakugou continued, turning his body to face yours on the couch, a dark look in his vermillion eyes as his fingers danced higher up your exposed thigh, feeling a warmth begin to seep from his palm as his cool calloused fingertips dig into your skin, “You know exactly what you’re doing.” 

“I assure you, Dynamight.” Bakugou groaned at the way his hero name sounded spilling from your lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Every day you’re out there being a fuckin’ tease.” He growled, biting your lip as you felt his blunt fingernails digging into the plush of your thigh, “Prancing around in these short fuckin’ shorts and my shirts.” 

Wait, had he seen you wearing his merch before? Had he seen you in his clothes? How? You were certain he’d never seen the multiple selfies you’d take of yourself to upload onto social media, always too scared to tag your favourite Hero. Instead proclaiming your love for him shamelessly on your socials, gushing about how he was the perfect hero. Still, even if he was lurking on your accounts, he couldn't possibly remember someone as lowly as you. 

“You knew I was watching you, didn’t you?” He snarled, his other hand moving up to palm your breast through your shirt, the action catching you by surprise as you gasped, “You wanted me to see you acting like such a slut.”

“N-no, Dynamight. I wasn’t-” You stammer as you think back, trying to remember all of the times you thought you felt a weighted gaze on you. Only to look over your shoulder to find nothing before submerging yourself back into your mundane world.

"Wasn't what? You mean you weren't trying to show the whole neighborhood your ass when you bent over 'pulling weeds'?" His palm becomes uncomfortably hot as his voice dips lower, lips brushing your ear as you drown in his spiced caramel scent. 

"Maybe you heard about your new neighbor Pro Hero Red Riot, wanted to show off for him? Or maybe you're just a slut who loves the attention?" 

Your blood runs cold, icy despite his burning palm, you swallow thickly as he continues to recite your summer as if reading from a list. 

"You know exactly what you're doing don'tchya? So many men have changed their jogging route to include your street, even if it is well out of their way. They slow their pace in front of your house when you're outside. Bent over, head lost in your garden and your skin tight shorts show your plump lips, your thick thighs and that supple, soft ass. Tits almost falling out from your crop tops as you must refuse to wear a bra. But you're such a good girl, reminding everyone who you belong to when you wear those shorts with my name across the ass." 

He leans away from you to hold your gaze. A shiver runs up your spine, you had never posted those shorts. The fan made ones that say "Bakugou's" across the ass, fuck how did he-?

He reads the question across your face, a nasty smirk dances on his cruel lips as he takes delight in the fear that blows your pupils wide. 

"I've been watching you Princess." You feel your heart beating out of your chest at the realisation, “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

You didn’t.

“That’s why you put on such a show for me every time, isn’t it?” 

 You hadn’t noticed your favourite Pro-Hero had been watching you all this time. You were beyond excited when Red Riot had moved into the neighbourhood, wishing you’d catch a glimpse of him each time you left your house. Getting up early some mornings just to see the red head stretching for his morning run, his muscles taut across his thick frame. But not once had Bakugou been anywhere in sight. You were sure you'd remember the ash blonde standing next to your second favorite hero. 

“You do it on purpose.” Bakugou growled, his hand moving to your exposed waist, stroking against your naked skin as his fingers dipped underneath your top, “It turns you on doesn’t it? Everyone looking at your slutty little body.”

“No, please. It doesn’t- I’m not.” You tried to move away from him, but he already had your body trapped between the arm of the couch and his large, muscular frame. 

“All those eyes on you and you don’t give a fuck.” Bakugou’s large palm grasps your round breast, groaning when he feels your nipple pebbled underneath his touch, “You want everyone to see you.”

Before you have a moment to object, to tell him how wrong he is, his lips are already against yours in a sultry kiss. Your mind hazy as he immediately prods your lips with his tongue, desperate for entrance as he invades your mouth. You couldn’t believe what was happening, The Dynamight was inside your house. Your entire body burning as his heat engulfed you, this was something you’d dreamed about more than you could recollect. The amount of nights you’d touched yourself to the thought of his hands dancing across your body. Trying to imagine how it would feel to be completely ravaged by him, but now that he was here in the flesh you were nervous. The reality of the situation slowly consumes your body as your heart beats with more intensity. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Bakugou rasps huskily as he tugs your shirt up and over your breasts, his vermilion eyes taking in the sight of your exposed chest to his prying eyes, “Even better than I imagined.”

You nervously tried to move your arms to your chest, trying to hide your body from his burning gaze, but his hand was quick to grab your wrist, tugging your arm away with a glare, “Don’t.”

You averted your eyes from his own, biting your bottom lip as he lowered his face to your chest. His tongue tentatively coming out to lap around your darkened areola, closing his lips around your hardened nipple as he began to suck on the tender skin. Your head falling onto the back of the couch as you let out a low whine, one of your hands coming up to brush through his buzzed undercut, stroking against the spiky hair as you arched your back into his touch. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this, sweetheart.” He murmured around your nipple, his warm breath fanning against your skin as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. An airy gasp leaving your parted lips at the sensation as you involuntarily arched your back into his touch, “Every fuckin’ time I saw you-”

Wait? Every time he saw you? How often did he seek out your address? How many times did his crimson eyes burn into your skin without your noticing? 

Your eyes dart to the large bay window, holding eye contact with yourself as you stare at your reflection. A pitiful and clear sight as the blonde's hands groped your exposed tits. If the pro hero was brazen enough to peer through your unobstructed window, just how many other eyes fall onto you? 

“When I saw you in my signed debut Dynamight shirt, I knew I had to have you.” His lips curving into a grin against your skin as his tongue lapped at your hardened nipple, rolling the other one between his thumb and forefinger, “There’s just something about the sight of you in my clothes.”

At the mention of your rare signed shirt your body goes rigid, numb. If he had seen you in the shirt you mostly kept tucked away for safekeeping, he had seen everything hadn't he? 

“Don’t go all shy on me now, Princess.” He released your nipple with a pop, palming your breast with a grin as he pressed his lips against your own, “Weren’t shy when you were putting on a show for everyone, were you?”

Your bottom lip trembled at the suggestion, worrying it between your teeth as you felt Bakugou lean forward to grab your wrist in a large hand, the scent of his quirk filling the air as you felt the heat radiating from his palm. Vermilion eyes glancing down at your half-lidded ones, a glazed expression over your features as you focused on his touch.

“Look at what you fuckin’ do to me, sweetheart.” Bakugou tightened his grip on your wrist, moving your hand towards his crotch. His cock bulging against his pants, desperate to be released as he lay your palm against him. Gasping at the sensation as your palm made contact with the fabric, feeling just how hard he was for you underneath the denim.

All the while his thoughts are consumed by you, your smell, the look of surprise on your face. The feel of your skin against his and the heat of your breath tickling his ear when he pins you to the couch. 

All of the things he'd been imagining for the last few months. Your small hand against his large, twitching cock. Even through the fabric your warmth is hypnotizing, drawing him in and captivating him with every inch of you.

Bakugou's problem is that he can be greedy, hungry for more. Wanting nothing but the best and much like his sun sign, once he had his eyes set on something nothing could overcome his stubborn ambition. Not even the small look of fear in your eyes but even he can see that it is fading, melding into desire. He watches your fingers flutter, teasingly trying to figure out just how big and girthy he really was. Your heart races as you stare into his clouded vermillion eyes. Blood running hot as your mouth salivates, imagining the same thing he is. 

How does it taste? 

You let out a soft whine, fingers prodding at the head earning you a borderline feral growl. 

"Quit being a fucking tease and take it out, Princess." He groans, you freeze at his bold request.

"B..but…" He crowds you as your protests die in your throat. His lips brushing against your ear as he breathes in your sweet shampoo. 

"But what Princess? Scared I'll fuck you stupid?" He nips at the shell of your ear, chuckling darkly when you shiver, "Or are you scared you'll get addicted to how I taste?" 

"T-taste?" 

"Aw look at you acting all fuckin shy?" He squeezes your thighs with a deadly grip, fingers creeping between them, "You weren't so shy last week sitting in this spot were you?" 

You freeze as you think back to last week, knowing exactly what you were doing, eyes glancing over his broad shoulder to see the snow coming down in sheets through the large bay windows. You thought you were high enough and far enough away from the road, there, there was no way he saw right? 

His fingers press against your clothed sex, rubbing rough circles unable to keep the deadly smirk off of his lips. 

"Your phone in one hand and your other right here. Or maybe," He moves the dark fabric to the side, sliding his fingers to your clit, "It was here." 

You bite back your moans as the rough pad of his fingers circle your clit, just barely grazing over it in an agonizing purposeful fashion. 

"What were you watching again? Amateur porn right? POV with the guy's face hidden but he was in a knock off Dynamight suit wasn't he?" He pulls back to watch your face, twisting with pleasure and horror, body arching towards his touch as your head swims. Cunt clenching as he dips closer to your core for slick. 

"And what did that slutty mouth say?" His smile is cocky, holding eye contact. Silence sits between the two of you as your eyes flutter. He pulls his hand away from your throbbing clit, squeezing against your pulse point.

"I asked a question, Kitten. Now answer it." His voice is dark. 

"Dy-Dynamight." You gasp out, he ruts his hips against your leg. 

"Again." His free hand slips back between your folds, fingers setting a rapid pace that already has you teetering on the edge already. 

"Dynamight!" 

"Again. Say my name again." His fingers work you over as the coil unexpectedly snaps in your stomach. 

"Katuskiiii." You gasp and whine, shamefully cumming all over his thick digits. He groans, shoving his fingers into your cunt to feel you grip onto him, he cannot wait to feel that pretty pussy molding to his aching cock. 

But he would wait, for now. 

"Good girl." He praises, pulling his fingers from your core, licking up them. Savoring your essence as you watch his eyes flutter paying you a high compliment. In quick motions he throws a pillow onto the solid hardwood floor, pulling the hair at the nape of your neck as he pulls you onto the plush cushion. His free hand undoing his belt with deft fingers before he pulls his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, the head leaking precum as you lick your lips. 

"You're gonna keep being a good girl for me right, Princess?" He coos, dragging his cock across your lips, smearing his sweet and salty pre from cheek to cheek. 

"Fuck do you know how long I've been dreaming of your lips around my cock?" He groans, pulling your hair back to force eye contact. 

"How, how long?" Your question prompts that nasty smile as his crimson eyes gleam with cruelty and lust.

"Months." 

And with that he pulls your hair back hard enough that you cry out in pain. Bakugou takes the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth. Bottoming out at the back of your throat causing you to gag, your spit eases the roughness of his slow harsh thrusts as your eyes water. 

Nothing could have prepared you for feeling Bakugou inside you for the first time, your wildest fantasies didn’t equate to this. The sheer size of his thick, bulging cock made it difficult for you to take him inside your mouth. The prominent veins that forked along the side dragging against your cheek as he eased you down on his length. Fingers stroking through your hair sweetly, a stark contrast to his previous movements. His husky voice cooing down at you, gentle praises that had you keening, desperate to hear more. The red, swollen tip prodding against the back of your throat as you gagged around him, a mixture of spit and pre dribbling down your chin as you tried to fit more of him inside your mouth hungrily. 

“So fuckin’ greedy.” Bakugou grunted, his fingers carding into your messy hair and tugging harshly against the root, pressing you further down his aching cock. Watching the way your cheeks hollowed around him as you tried to adjust to his size. The movement causing fresh tears to clump in your lashes as you tried desperately to breathe through your nose. His coarse blond pubic hairs tickling your skin as he held your head down on his cock. 

Struggling for oxygen as your tongue lashed against the underside of his length, the salty sweet taste of his cum mixed with the lack of oxygen making you light headed as you felt yourself falling deeper into him. Teeth grazing his sensitive skin as you tried to relax your throat, innocent eyes gazing up at him. The sight almost had him cumming on the spot, it was something he’d thought about for months, stroking himself raw to the thought of your lips wrapped around him. You felt gentle tremors flowing through your body as he finally allowed you a moment of respite, tugging you off his length roughly as you gasped for air.

“So pretty for me,” His warm palm stroked against your cheek, dipping his thumb between your parted lips as he felt you instinctively close your mouth around it. Your tongue swirling around the calloused pad of his thumb as you heard him groan above you, “Look at you.”

“How many times have you played with that slutty little pussy to the thought of me, hah?” Bakugou mused, his thumb slipping from your mouth as he pulled down your lower lip, watching the way your face followed after his hand to try and pull him back in.

“P-please.” You trembled, already feeling your clit throbbing painfully between your thighs, already feeling unsatiated as crimson eyes glared down at you.

“I bet you’ve never had anything this big inside you,” He wrapped his palm around his cock, smirking when he noticed your eyes hyper focused on him, “Have you?”

You shook your head nervously, even the toys you’d experimented before didn’t equate to his sheer size, “N-no, Dynamight.”

“I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, Princess.” Bakugou’s thoughts already flooding to how your tight little cunt would feel being split around his cock. Moulding it to his size so you’d never be satisfied with anything or anyone else. You were going to be his and his alone, and he’d do anything to ensure that happened, “Wanna feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my cock, yeah?”

His words sending more pleasurable jolts to your core, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation as he helped you to your feet, his large palms keeping against your hips as he dipped his fingers beneath the hem of your shorts. Sliding the material down your thighs with one rough tug, exposing your naked body to his prying eyes. The sight of you completely bare in front of him had his cock twitching almost painfully, you were even more perfect than he had imagined.

“C’mere, Princess.” He cooed gently, a stark contrast to his earlier actions. You keened as you slid onto his lap, feeling his thick cock pressed snugly between your folds as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself. Your fingertips digging into his shirt as you tried feebly to get him to take it off.

“So needy,” He smirked, leaning forward to tug his shirt up and over his head. His chiselled abs now on full display as you focused in on each sharp ridge. He was even more perfect in person, and you couldn’t quite believe that the Dynamight was now in front of you.

Bakugou’s large palms moved back to your hips, pressing you down against his cock as you felt the length stroke against your slit, involuntarily grinding down against him as you tried to give your clit some much needed stimulation. The action did not go unnoticed by Bakugou who smirked at your desperation, digging his fingertips into your skin as he began to circle your hips against his cock. 

“You’re soaking my cock and I haven’t even put it in yet,” He smirked as he felt your slick coating his length, watching in amusement as you continued to grind yourself against him, trying to give yourself some relief, “Bet you could get yourself off just like this, hah?”

“No,” You whined, “Please,”

“Please, what?” He coaxed, his fingers slipping between your bodies to tease your puffy clit, a harsh laugh leaving his lips when he felt the way your body jerked at his touch.

“Please,” You trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous and self-conscious that you were now very much naked in front of your favourite Pro-Hero.

“You don’t seem to want it enough, Princess.” Bakugou teased, moving you away from his cock as you groaned in displeasure. Your eyes looking down at his shaft that was now coated in a layer of your slick. Fresh pre spilling from the tip as you reached out to grab him between your fingers. Bakugou’s reflexes were quicker as he caught your wrist in his large palm, giving you a warning look as his nostrils flared. 

“So fuckin’ greedy.” He moved his hands back to grab your ass, kneading the round mounds as he moved you to hover over his cock, vermilion eyes gazing up at you as he waited for you to speak, “You want my cock?”

“Yeah-” You felt your head nodding before you’d even had a chance to think, desperate to feel him sliding inside your warmth, splitting you open as he buried himself deep inside you. 

“Yeah?” He mocked, tilting his head to the side as he pressed a kiss against your pebbled nipple, “Then fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Please, Dynamight.” You rolled your hips again, grinding against nothing as you tried to create some friction between your thighs, “Want your cock.”

A groan spilled from his lips at such blunt words leaving your pouty lips, calloused fingertips digging into your supple flesh as he pressed you down on the head of his cock. The tip stretching you out slightly as you tried to drop your hips down on him, wanting to feel him deep inside you.

“You want Dynamight to fuck this slutty pussy?” He pulled you away from his cock which caused a needy whine to spill from your lips, trying to angle your hips back towards his length.

Bakugou’s palm wrapping around his cock to drag the swollen, reddened tip along your sopping folds. Feeling your slick coat his skin as it mingled with his pre, watching the way your eyes fluttered at the sensation of his cockhead brushing against your clit.

“Yes.” You hissed, already anticipating the pleasurable stretch his girth would create inside you. The thick head already back at your tight entrance as he watched you shamelessly try and drop your hips down onto him. 

"Yes what?" His voice is dark with pleasure as he glares up at you, a pitiful mess. He's toying with you, as a cat does a mouse and you feel utterly embarrassed. This was Pro hero Dynamight damn it, you wanted to make a good impression. You wanted to be sexy, not some whiny bitch in heat. 

Little did you know how much Bakugou loved it, lived for it as he gently bounced you on just the tip. Driving you wild as you whined, all the while he smirked. 

"Please Katsuki-sama." Your nails rake down his forearms, "Please, please fuck me." 

"That's my good girl." He slams you down on his cock in one swift motion causing your vision to spot. He relishes the way you flutter around him, adjusting as a shiver runs up your spine. 

"Now fuck yourself on my cock, Princess." 

"But-" He wraps his hand around your throat, malice and lust dance in his eyes as his free hand travels to your thigh. Palm heating with each pound of your heart until it begins to become too much, too hot.

"Ride me like you did your fingers last week. You were thinking of me then weren't you, pervert?” You gasped at his crude words, the idea that he had been watching you while you dipped your fingers inside your tight cunt had embarrassment ebbing in your core. Your body trembling as the object of your affections degraded you, “Wishing it was me finger fuckin’ that pretty pussy, yeah?”

Unable to stop the shameless moan that left your parted lips, the sound restricted to a strangled gasp as he kept his palm wrapped tightly around your jugular. 

“Or were you thinking of Red Riot since you love wearing his merch so much, hah.” Bakugou goaded, you could feel his grip against you tightening as his palms heated up dangerously, “Wishing he’d come in and bend you over like the little slut you are.”

“N-no,” You tried to gasp out, feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen that flowed through your body.

Bakugou loosened his grip around your neck, keeping his palm against your skin as he leaned his head closer to yours, his warm breath fanning your face as vermilion eyes bored into your own, “What was that?”

“J-just you, Dynamight.” You rasped, a rush of air filling your lungs as your chest heaved against him, “Only for you-”

“Yeah?” His lips curled into a cocky grin, immediately tightening his grip around your throat once more, “That’s fuckin’ right, you should be thinking about me when you play with that sloppy pussy.”

He squeezes both your throat and thigh harder. You rock your hips, fucking yourself on his fat cock as you gasp for air, hands desperately holding onto toned arms for support as the coil in your stomach begins to snap. 

“Now I want you to fuckin' show me how much of a Dynamight fan you really are." He groans at the way you grip around him, tongue lulling past his smirk for just as second. 

If you had to try and describe this feeling it would be something akin to euphoria, a constant throb ebbing through your cunt at the dull stretch his cock caused around your core. His cock moulding you to his shape as he bounced you on his lap, the thick jutting veins along his girth dragging against your inner walls with each pronounced thrust. Desperate cries of pleasure spilling from your lips as he fucked himself into you, hungrily searching to pull more of those sweet sounds from your pretty lips. You felt pearly tears begin to clump in your lashes as he fucked into your tight cunt with vigour, uncaring for giving you a moment of respite as he hungrily used you for his own pleasure. 

“Aw, you gonna cry, Princess?” He sneered, vermilion eyes gazing down at your own as he kept his pace, “I know you fuckin’ love it. I can feel you squeezing my cock.”

“Please-” You couldn’t think of the words, your mind foggy with the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain overwhelming you as he continued to fuck you with reckless abandon. 

“Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you stupid, dumbass.” He grunted, the calloused pads of his fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs, crude noising filling the air as you could hear just how wet you were for him, “That sloppy pussy is drooling all over my cock.”

"Who do you belong to?" His husky voice wraps around you like a vice, pulling your heart into your stomach. 

"You." You gasp as the heat of his palm on your leg begins to burn, skin warping beneath his touch. Hand glowing golden as if he were a God while his quirk begins to really activate. The smell of spiced caramel, smoke and scalded flesh cling to the couch and invade your senses as a crude whimper leaves your parted lips. The skin that he’d just burned throbbing under his touch, as heat surged through your body. His sharp thrusts helping to morph the pain you felt into a pure, unabashed pleasure as he watched you worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Good girl. Now everyone will know exactly who you belong to." Your eyes flicker away from his face before he uses his finger behind your jaw to meet his gaze, "Look at your King when you cum."

The combination of pleasure and pain paired with the thought of being his makes that delicate coil snap. Your body tenses and freezes as you shake atop his lap, biting nails drawing blood on his arms. He smirks, fucking up into you as another mind numbing orgasim washes over your body. Without withdrawing himself he flips the two of you against the couch. 

“Fuck, look at you.” Your back presses into the cushions as he towers over you. Gazing down and into your eyes as he slowly thrusts into you, switching hands to place one on your unburnt thigh, “So fuckin’ pretty.”

The telltale sounds of his quirk sound in the room as his hands crackle, heating his other palm, readying himself to repeat the action. To mark your body and claim you as his own, so if anyone dared to look at you they would know exactly who you belonged. Permanent hand prints marking you as his. No one else was allowed to have you, not that you had a choice, at least not anymore. 

Bakugou hissed as he felt your cunt continue to flutter around him in the aftershocks of your climax, snapping his hips as his pelvis hits against your puffy clit, head swimming from both pleasure and your primal need to breathe that was being wholly denied.

Bakugou was going to ruin you and you'd let him. 

"Who owns this pretty pussy?" Another possessive question that rockets you to the edge, body hoping for another mark, to make you symmetrical. 

Whole. 

"You." Another raspy breath but it's enough for Bakugou to hear. A silent moan tears from your throat as you try to keep your eyes locked with his. Pain blooming on your thigh with a delicious bite. 

 “What was that?” He snarled, pressing your thigh up against your chest as his arm slid underneath your knee, resting your calf over his shoulder as he changed the angle of his thrusts, his cock delving deeper between your folds as you felt the swollen tip bruising your cervix with each hard rut of his hips, “Say my name.”

“Dynamight.” You called out, already feeling your body throbbing in the telltale signs of another orgasm, your thighs quivering as you felt Bakugou fuck your body into the couch hard before using his grip on your thigh to drag you back into him. 

The crude sound of skin against skin vibrated around the room as his meaty balls slapped against the swell of your ass, Bakugou’s muscular frame dwarfing your own as he used you for his own pleasure. His own little cocksleeve that would succumb to his every request, you would be his and his alone to use as he pleased. 

“Again.” A low growl sounded from the back of his throat, a possessive undertone to it as he urged you on, “Say it again.”

“Dynamight.” You managed to whimper through sobs, tears trickling down your temples now and soaking into your messy hair. The sound of his name spilling from your lips made him readjust his thrusts with newfound intensity. 

“That’s fuckin’ right. Red Riot would never fuck you this good, hah?” He provoked, a clear sign of dominance over you, “You’re fuckin’ made for my cock.”

A cry slipping from your lips as he gave a particularly hard thrust inside your aching cunt, the tip of his length pounding against your cervix as he worked to claim your body as his own, trying to wipe thoughts of anyone else from your mind so all you could think about in this moment was his fat cock buried deep inside your tight heat.

“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” He grunted, his eyes mapping out your body as he worked himself against you, “Feel so good.”

Your breasts bounced with the intensity of his thrusts as he felt your inner walls quivering around his cock, already feeling another orgasm creeping up on you, the coil inside you impossibly tight as you tried to remember to breathe. Your vision hazy as you felt yourself becoming lightheaded, white dots blanking your vision as you shook beneath him.

“You gonna cum again already? Greedy fuckin’ bitch.” Bakugou’s lips curved into a grin as he felt your fingernails dig into his forearms, leaving crescent shapes in their wake as a dull ache tingled against his skin at the sensation, “My cock’s better than your fuckin’ fingers, yeah?”

“Yes,” You hissed, your toes curling as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure. Your tight heat clenching around Bakugou’s cock as an usual sensation flowed through you, an intense throb in your core as you felt the unwavering urge to pee. Tightening your thighs around Bakugou’s firm body in an attempt to stop it from happening as wracked sobs left your body, your lower lip trembling as the sensation became too much. Too intense, too overwhelming as you allowed it to take over, your body crying out as you came. A clear stream of liquid gushing from between your thighs and soaking Bakugou’s crotch, his pace never once faltering as he fucked you through the sensation.

“Look at you, you messy fuckin’ slut” He howled in pleasure as he watched the liquid seep from your folds, “Look at your sloppy little pussy soakin’ my cock.”

“I’m sorry-” You cried out in embarrassment, feeling your heart pound in your chest as you saw his abdomen glistening with your release, “I didn’t mean-”

“What? You never fuckin’ squirted before?” Bakugou’s lips curled into a sly smile, his chest puffed out in pride, “Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Bakugou slipped a hand between your connected bodies to press four fingers against your clit, rubbing it frantically side to side as he tried to prolong the sensation, watching to see more of the clear liquid escape your heat. 

"I can make this pretty little cunt do what I want. Wanna know why?" He leans in with a deadly grin on his lips,  "Cause I own it." 

You cried out as you felt the sensation flowing through you once more, a dull ache in your lower body as more of the clear liquid gushed from your folds. The sight made Bakugou smirk with glee, his fingers relentless against your sensitive nub.

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He goaded, feeling your body trying to shy away from him as you withered beneath him, the pleasure becoming overwhelming, “That fuckin’ desperate.”

“P-please,” You whimpered, your entire body felt unbearably hot. Unable to think coherently as Bakugou continued pounding his thick girth into your core, his warm breath fanning your face as he hovered above you.

“P-please,” He mocked, tilting his head as he glanced down at you, “Please, what?”

“‘S too much,” You stammered, your hand reaching down to wrap around his wrist, trying to tug his fingers away from their assault against your clit.

The movement made him growl, baring his teeth as his hand moved from your clit, reaching up to wrap around the curve of your neck instead as he instantly tightened his grip against your jugular. The action caused your eyes to widen in surprise before your soft whines turned into hungry pants as you tried to gasp for air. Bakugou’s consistent thrusts into your sloppy hole made it difficult to think straight, your body fully focused on the sight of him above you while his hand wrapped tightly around your neck. 

“Gonna fill that sloppy little pussy with cum, yeah?” You flushed at the suggestion, already feeling your inner walls fluttering around his cock at the thought, squeezing his girth as it created more friction as he dragged his cock along your velvety walls, his grip on your neck tightening as you felt your cunt clench around his cock in response, “You’re gonna look so pretty for me all full of my cum, Princess.”

A guttural groan spilled from his parted lips as you watched his eyes roll back, his thrusts stuttering as he came, bottoming out inside you as white hot spurts of cum splashed against your inner walls. His palms stroking along your exposed skin, sliding against the thin sheen of sweat that coated your body as he came down from his climax, humping a few more sloppy thrusts into your cunt as he cherished the sweet way your walls continued to flutter around him. 

You whined as Bakugou slowly eased his hips back, slipping his softening cock out of your quivering folds. His eyes immediately focused on your abused hole as he watched his cum begin to trickle out of you as it dribbled down towards your ass. Unable to resist reaching a finger out to collect the mixture, scooping it up as he slowly pushed it back inside you. Smirking at the way you tried to bat his hand away from your overstimulated folds, this only making him want to tease you more as he moved his finger to press against your inner walls. Swallowing thickly as he felt your body involuntarily clamping down around him in an attempt to pull him back inside you. 

“Such a good girl for me, Princess.” He moved his fingers up to stroke against your puffy clit, laughing at the way you arched your hips away from his touch, trying to stop him from teasing your satiated clit, “Took my cock so well.” 

You mewl in response, clutching your arms to yourself as you shake from the previous events. You looked so small and scared causing a sharp pain to bolt through Bakugou's chest. God he wanted you in his care even more now.

“You were even more perfect than I imagined.” He pulls you to him, trapping you in his embrace as he presses your face into his chest. Hand smoothing your damp hair as he hums lightly. His eyes catching sight of the Red Riot shirt he’d discarded to the floor, a thought occurred to him, one he cannot keep to himself, as another sadistic smile settled on his lips. 

“Kirishima told me not to come over here, said to leave you alone-” He pulls you back so you can look at him, and gods the look you're giving him. Eyes soft and submissive, hazed over in mind numbing pleasure as you float off somewhere far away. Only Bakugou's arms are keeping you bound to Earth. “But I was right wasn’t I, Princess?”

You'll never be able to escape his gravity now. 

“He just wanted you for himself.” His fingers feather over your body before he stands, guessing where the first aid could be. You clutch onto his shirt, eyes desperately glued to your new God as the fading sun washes him over in deep hues of red. The way you look at him makes his cock twitch, feeling the intense power he already holds over you. 

"You'll let your King go." A growl as his fingers find your throat, you nod with fresh tears catching on long lashes as he steps away. Sobbing from his absence before he returns. 

"Don't be a baby, I wasn't that far Princess." His voice all bite while his hands speak the truth. Calloused and scared fingers pressing ointment into the fresh burns tenderly. 

“But you’re mine now aren’t you Princess?” He dots over the burns, rubbing the salve in gently, “All mine.”

He leans away from you, cruelty ever plastered on his smirking lips. 

“Maybe I should show Red Riot what you look like right now, hah?” He pulls out his phone, going to snap a picture. You're hesitant at first but then move to strike a pose, wide eyes looking into the lens of the camera as Bakugou angles it to get the dark bruises and scars that now marr your perfect skin. "Fuck, I think showing him what a good girl you are in person would be much better." 

“W-we shouldn’t-“ You mumble, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought of your sweet neighbour seeing you like this, utterly debauched because of Pro-Hero Dynamight. 

“Don’t be shy, pretty girl.” He coos uncharacteristically, almost mocking you as he watches your lower lip tremble, “I’m sure Red Riot would love to see you like this. Probably jerks himself raw to the thought of you.”

He eases you to your feet, sliding your shorts over your thighs as you hiss when they get to the fresh brand. Your mouth waters from pain as you look down at them. His perfect palm prints etched into your skin forever. You bite your bottom lip, wanting more from Bakugou who slips his jacket over your shoulders before putting your snow boots onto your feet. He makes his way to the door.

"Comin' pervert?" He asks before you rush to your feet,  “Shall we show Red Riot what a desperate little slut his neighbour is?” 

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, engulfing you in his mesmerizing scent and heat. You nod slowly, wanting nothing more than to please your new caretaker. 

“Gotta remind that asshole who the fuck you belong to.”

[nomadmilk]

The Courting of a Succubus - Tobio Kageyama x F!Reader

A/N: Aaaa! My first Kinktober fic! It’s SUPER late aaaaaa. But thank you to beautiful Cassie for letting me join. I'm super nervous about this. I'm sorry for it taking so long 💛💛 So here's a fic of Kags, and a reminder that he's a beast in disguise. Full Masterlist just below with other amazing creators and their contributions💛👻Happy Belated Spooks!!

Event: Wheel of Misfortune Collab [MDNI]

Presented by: @cyancherub

Rating: M/18+

"Within a training camp in the woods, a monster lies in waiting - and Tobio ’Goody-two-shoes’ Kageyama becomes another, unfortunate victim..."

Warnings: Succubus!Reader and Timeskip!Kageyama (duh!), Dom-Leaning Kageyama, Supernatural themes (Premonitions), Mentions of blood, Slow Burn, Smut, Slight Manipulation and Coercion, Orgasm Denial, Mild Threat, Dubcon (ish), Kageyama is v horny and angry >:(

Words: 2.6K

Rolled: Tobio Kageyama + Premonition + Orgasm Denial

As Kageyama grew older, there were certain things that became consistent.

In Spring, Hinata's jumps were higher.

Within the months of June and September, his water intake fluctuates.

And in the last few days of October, Kageyama would have the weirdest dreams; weird enough to throw him off his game for a couple of weeks.

Instead of lying still and sleeping into the void and volleyball, his nights would be plagued by images of buildings and bridges and falling to the ground, or his teeth dropping out from his gums. Waking up as the sun rises with his limbs splayed, and sticking out of wrinkled sheets.

In the brisk mornings, Kageyama would deliberate a lot of things before the day began. He goes for a run, his thoughts floating and rearranging with every breath he draws out in a small cloud. And he never ran with music, the sound of crows feasting on the grounds of distant fields and the rustle of his clothes accompanying him as he presses forward.

He was running faster than usual, the hill angled to a steep incline, questions spiraling as the tap of his steps came one after the other. His goosebumps forget about the cold climate, and warmth builds the more distance he covers. Branches towering over him cover the grey sun, gaunt trees looming over a dirt path.

His yearly dreams were more like nightmares this time. And it was unforgiving, taking a toll on the way his feet delayed in moving; serves not as powerful from the slap of his palm. His performance fluctuating and affecting his progress. Bitter remarks slip every so often, and the team treads egg shells around him...

He made it back to the campsite, barely in one piece as the dream emerges strong in his memory, struggling to contain the blush threatening to colour his neck and face. He excuses himself as his team passes through the corridor, pacing straight back to his room with concentration that remains glued to the floorboards. Swearing that he could hear voices in the silent walls of his room; moans that penetrate his ears, dewy and delectable enough to stir him-

It was always the same place; the same person. Waking up too late to do anything. Dream ending before it even got started - before it got good... He doesn't know if it would have. He just had a feeling it was going to.

Atsumu appears by his side. "This place is creepy, huh?"

An exasperated sigh puffs his cheeks, breaking him from his train of thought.

He's standing on the side of the court, slightly jarred by the abrupt replacement of his scenery, frowning at the sound of his team yelling to each other, and not taking in an ounce of information.

"You gotta' admit, Coach seems to wanna' keep the Halloween spirit." Atsumu gestures to a window across the hall; leaves and trunks being cloaked with mist. "You reckon it's haunted?"

Kageyama clears his throat, adjusting. "No. Do you actually believe in that stuff?"

"Aren'tcha at least a bit curious? Like, corrupted spirits? Phantoms?"

He remembers all the times in high school when his friends had been freaked out by dark corridors, and mistaking each others' shadows for paranormal activity. "Not really."

"Whelp, shouldn't be surprised by that answer - so what's been troublin' ya?"

"What do you mean?"

Atsumu leans into him. "You don't seem like yourself."

Kageyama was sure some of them would hold the information just to humiliate him; he'd especially rather drop dead than tell Atsumu the whole truth. "It's nothing. I'm sure it'll pass."

"If it's affecting your game, maybe you should see it as a sign?"

"That even at my worst, I'm still the better setter?"

Atsumu smirks; Kageyama could still sustain a competitive front despite all his blunders during practice. "'M just sayin', I don't think I've ever seen you relax. What d'you do to - y'know - unwind? It can't just be bubble baths n' milk all the time w'you, is it?"

Kageyama thinks for a moment, mulling over his words. "No, I just-"

As he grabs his water bottle, the brush of his hand against another sets him ablaze. He wonders who the hand belongs to, and you make eye contact with him, heat tumbling from his stomach and pricking his ears to red.

You, wearing a polo shirt tucked into your waistband and the fabric clinging onto your curves; the team logo sewn on your chest. He'd never dreamt of you in anything, but it was definitely the same adorable lips. The same pair of eyes that crossed themselves in bliss every night. And now there's a scent; sickly and syrupy, enhancing his fantasies further.

"You're bottle." You're hesitant before pulling away, voice crystal clear and pretty with every syllable that passes through your lips. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah..." He gulps. "Thanks."

Since meeting you, Kageyama's nights were conflicting.

The way he slept, how rapidly his body dozed into slumber, was unexpected. Body too engrossed with the coziness of the mattress, easily drifting into the dream.

Silk sheets are strewn over your bare body. Every squeeze screwing your face into needy agony. He litters his lips on your lower abdomen, that salty-sweet aroma reaching his tongue, and he drinks in every nectar that drips, every shuffle of your body has his hands pinning you steady.

The sensations are too addictive to ignore; he could feel himself grinding against something soft, friction stimulating him with weary eyes refusing to blink awake. It's the first time he feels something pulling him back, bewitching him to stay. Your lips like a drug as they spend time worshiping his skin. Giggling at how compliant he'd been.

Yet, he still feels a fog; uneasy with how it prolongs. Sheets now feeling like quicksand. Stomach dropping, like he's plummeting straight down to gravel-

Your grin bares your fangs, and he flinches at the sight; your wings flicker into view-

Your thin tail revealing itself from behind you. Horns swiftly making themselves aware and jutting out from the top of your head. The hot spell now coming from flames that circled, and licked close to his limbs. Your hand cups his jaw, and he captures your wrist before you could do anything else.

And you laugh some more. Your smile taunts him-

He awoke with clammy sweat layering within the palm of his fist.

He's back in the mess of his bed, energy sapped. His heart level was raised, and wet beads settled above his brows. The glow of the moon blared, clouds and the woods themselves creating a scarce illusion on hiding it.

The weather used to be a contentment for Kageyama - the howl of air now sending a chill down his back, conscious of how deserted his room is. Hating himself for missing the heat.

Impatient for it.

Your cheeks felt like lava, and a sound of a light tap makes you aware of your weak camouflage; tail fading into view and whipping the floor before vanishing again. Your cloak wavers; evidence of your strength needing to be replenished. All this time you've been on idle, hedging around him, and eyes getting starved.

He's perfect now; an easy target. Kept your distance, and crept alongside the shadows of tall branches and hid under the sounds of the air hitting the woodlands. Observed his behaviour, fascination consequently tempting your impulsion with each passing day. Watched in intrigue as he spoke, breath hitching when he stood behind the line of the court. In awe with how intense he could be. Bottle already in your hand before you could comprehend what were you were doing. Tending to your duties as a team assistant, and following orders to blend in.

It had to be soon. It's Kageyama's final night within the forest. He retired to bed earlier than the rest. His feet dragging up the stairs, and exhausted muscles weary from weeks of training, fixated on menial things you knew you could get rid of easily with a simple touch of your fingertips.

His face squishes into the pillow, fumbling and peeling off to his underwear so that he could cool off. He smells the rain before his eyelids flutter shut.

You made yourself visible when you knew he was the most vulnerable. When you knew he was alone. Mesmerised with how at peace he was as he slept. The rainfall ravaging the thicket with its wind and crashing torrent. Standing in the dark of his room, chest drumming loud and hitting your ears in thrums as you approach.

You catch his arms freeze up when the bed creaks, your wings twitching as you still at the edge of the bed. Your knees propped and slowly inching its way over his hips. Spread fingers graze the divots and tones of his abdomen, and you glance up to his face, eyes with the hue of deep oceans squinting awake.

Your eyes are rubies; sharp, and blank. Void of anything human underneath - glowing akin to fresh blood, and his scent driving them brighter. He doesn't waver when he detects the pointed ends of your wings. Not hesitating a bit when he glances over the horns on the side of your head. Undaunted by the strike of thunder that rolled abruptly in the silence.

Rose-pink dusting across his nose, he stills. He wasn't surprised. He didn't look that terrified either. Stuttering and unable to settle his stare, shifting underneath you. Like he was trying to keep things decent; modest - and failing. It's kind of cute, really.

"Kageyama?" Your voice rouses him, locking him into your charm. "It's okay to look."

He mumbles, his words quiet and just about audible. "I-... I've been dreaming about you..."

"You had dreams about me?"

It's like he awakens for the second time, coral blush blooming red. Your question has him glancing away. "It's- we-... I-I know why you're here, and..."

"... And?" You press.

"I know what you're planning... On doing..."

"Oh..." You're wary, head leaning inquisitive, mocking. "... It won't hurt. I promise."

He swallows. "I know it won't..."

He skims through all the times he had to relive you in his slumber. Your bare skin no longer a fantasy. Ample and supple than the coarseness of his own palms. His nose finding a perfume that lures him closer to your face. Unable to ignore how a layer of clothing was the only thing in the way of your bare sex. Unable to seal the gap despite the contact. He needed a little push - not wanting to show weakness - your face lowering to peck him on the lips.

It's like he combusts; stunned by how delicate your kiss was. Enticing him to follow you when you pull away. It alarms you when he grabs hold of you - to stop you from going anywhere - waist within his arms to kiss you again. Tender, and ambitious despite his timidness just a few seconds ago.

Your skin was relieved to be in contact with his body, wings fluttering and frigid simultaneously from the stroke of his tongue. Walls throbbing when he lightly bites on your lower lip, and when he allows himself to touch you the way he wants to.

His hands are curious. He's not as grabby as the others, but he touches you like you're glass, caresses you like you'll break into shards that'll cut him.

You feel a warmth covering your neck, embarrassed you could be stirred so easily, tail unraveling only to feel his fingers lace themselves in between, gasping as he twirls the clover tip-

"W-wait- Kagey-" The light tug makes you lost. "S-stop-"

"D-does it hurt?"

"N-no, but I-I get s-sensitive if you yank it like that-"

His tongue is hot and wet and inviting enough to string you along, shameless panting leaving your lungs. His next few kisses are rougher than the last, travelling down to your shoulders and chest. Tits sucked, and toyed, with small hickeys, and hands playing with your extremities.

You're not usually riled up so instantly. But you could feel that every move he made was calculating; instinctive.

"But it feels good... Right?..." He asks, the words just about making it through his lips. Your pheromones and allure are at their strongest, but you've forgotten you're at your weakest. Lacking strength to be able to overpower him if you had to. You whimper when his thumb finds your clit, and he massages it slow for silk to drip from the heat of your pussy. It's an ache you're friendly with, acquainting itself in your abdomen, and you squirm in his lap-

You're struggling to form sentences, unable to keep focus on what you needed to be doing. He wasn't as meek - inexperienced, nor naive - as you thought he'd be.

"I thought succubus were more demanding than this..."

"I-I am..." And he could tell you were crumbling.

It isn't long till his cock is freed. Upright and leaking from the tip, and aching. Thick and long enough to make your pupils heart-eyed, and mouth drool from the sight of it. An expression he's seen countless times in his dreams; a guilty pleasure in reality.

With the guide of your hand under his length, you sink onto him, biting down your shaky breath. Sitting cosy, and snug at the hilt.

"Ah-... Shit..." He just about chokes how tight you are; sighs when you begin riding. His focus drifts from your face to the way your hips lift off his thighs. Drawn to the languid strokes of your cunt, and how your slick clings onto him. How his cock splits your folds apart, how your head lulls back with every nerve that rubs you. Curses slipping as every thrust gains a quicker pace; it's adorable that he tries to keep silent, to withhold his groans, his front breaking just over how good your pussy feels when he fucks it.

"Ah- This- Ah, K-Kageyama..." And it only takes a few seconds for him to get a rhythm against yours, and your winces and jagged breaths brush into his ear. Patient and eager when he starts to shudder and get sloppy with his movements. Your waist brought down by his hold. A few teasing and shallow bounces pushing him to pound deeper, up into a spot that turns your legs into jelly- "F-fuck! J-just like that-"

He grunts in between the snap of his hips, words breaking every time he could feel his tip smother something gummy, and like velvet to his dick. Irises you've been fascinated by turning darker-

He slips you off before you're able to clench around him.

"K-Kag-! Wh- No-"

He huffs, glaring, losing his breath. But grinning.

Your words are stuck in your throat, puzzled as you see him controlling his composure. Your fingertips are begging to stretch, wanting to run them all over, grip your nails into his skin in annoyance. But you were petrified, alien to the feelings welling up and overwhelming you. Wings withering. Tail fidgeting. Apprehensive with your hands - scared that he'd effortlessly snatch them in one swift move.

He had been so close; you were so close.

You're too dizzy. Too muddled with what had happened. And he takes advantage of it, playing with you some more, flipping you onto your back, and burying himself back inside of you. Your voice reaching deaf ears. Hands groping every plump of flesh that made you sob. Just like in his dreams.

But you'd been in such a frenzy - blinded by the chase - not even considering how cruel your prey could be. Recollecting all the times the slam of the ball froze you like a statue. And how his gaze steeled you in place. Not predicting that he'd spend rounds upon rounds just to keep you in that blissful, wanting, blubbering state. Showing how far he would go to leave you unsatisfied.

"Thought I'd just lie there and take it, did you?"

Controlling. Intimidating; vengeful.

Forgetting that, despite being human, Kageyama is also a 'King'. A monster-

A demon.