#‘oh they’re bffs for life!’

[dio-the-thot-exterminator]

more sketches from my class, they’re zombie girlfriends 🫶🏿

[bandgie]

Good Pup

human!minho x puppy!reader x puppy!seungmin

synopsis: Minho is certain that no matter how much you disagree, your new weredog friend, Kim Seungmin, is not someone he can get along with. However, they have no choice but to team up when your first heat makes its way into the night. Maybe you were right, they do get along, even if it's just a little bit.

7.3k words (damn)

warnings! MDNI 18+, fem!reader, 3some, PIV, no protection, knotting, biting (slight blood), jealousy, bff!minho, coworker!seungmin, double penetration, heat, sex pill, pussy eating, humping (brief), super light mxm themes, minho and seungmin don't like each other

In this world, Minho thinks there are two types of people. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with what kind of job you work or what your passion is. It doesn’t even matter if you’re a hybrid; the ones mixed with all sorts of animals with human DNA. No, none of those matter to him. People, fully human or not, all boil down to one thing.

Cats or dogs. 

See, Minho likes to think of himself as a cat person. Someone who prefers to have leisure in their own time. Someone who doesn’t need constant stimulation from people or conversations. He’s content with being alone, satisfied even. Maybe Minho doesn’t have a furry tail or pointed ears that flick at the slightest sound unlike the werecats he sees daily, but his human identity doesn't stop him from thinking of himself - or anyone for that fact - as either cat or dog.

Despite living a rather secluded life, Minho doesn’t mind the few friends he keeps close, both human and feline. He does, however, mind dogs like any cat would. They’re too noisy, too needy, and too happy for no god-damn reason. Being surrounded by so much energy drains him quickly, and although Minho likes to think of himself as a lover of all animals, dogs are just… difficult. So you being one of his closest friends is such a mystery to him.

It doesn't matter how many times you’ve seen Minho. Your tail always swishes when you see him approaching, even now through the crowd of people. It wacks the nearby pedestrians walking and you embarrassingly apologize, grabbing your shaggy tail to try and prevent it from moving. And no matter how many times Minho sees you get so giddy just by looking at him, he smiles. 

Just a little bit. 

“You’re gonna kill someone with that thing,” he says once he’s close enough. You roll your eyes at him, the complete opposite of the thumping of your tail in your grasp. “Oh shut up. You made me wait in this heat. I should kill you for that.”

“In front of all these witnesses? You’d make a terrible hitman.” Minho can tell you’re irritated even with your happy tail. Your floppy ears are down, sweat beads on your forehead, and trickles down the sides of your face. The nails on your fingers are darker and sharper than usual. He recalls you complaining about the heat, but the forecast showed cloudy skies. Minho would hardly call it a hot day, not even a warm one.

Something’s up.

But like any cat person, he doesn’t say anything about his observations. “I say we get out of the sun and into the convenience store before you start plotting my murder. I’ll pay.” It’s his way of trying to make you feel better with whatever you’re stressed about. It seems to work by your nodding. Your tail is relaxed enough for you to set it down, using the back of your hand to wipe the perspiration that drips down to your neck. “That sounds good. And you don’t have to worry about tonight. The company’s paying for the dinner and drinks.” That familiar wolfish smile finds your lips, pulling back enough to show pointy canines. 

Minho is always captivated by your mouth. The way it can twist so inhumanely from the plumpness of your lips to the sharpness of your teeth. His eyes lower just for a split second before he says, “Even for me? A plus one?”

“I’ll make sure,” you say with certainty. “They’ve been working me like a dog, no pun intended, and this is their way of making up to everyone busting their ass to make deadlines. If I don’t get my Scooby-snack, I will actually kill someone.”

That sputters a laugh from him. Minho takes his place beside you to begin your journey to the market while giggles keep spilling. “If you’re Scooby, does that make me Shaggy?” There’s still a smile on his face even when you shake your head, following his steps. “Nah. You’re more like Scrappy-Doo.”

-

Okay, there is something definitely wrong with you. Minho is well aware that weredogs enjoy being in close proximity. There have been multiple occasions of your tail tickling his arm, of your skin brushing against his while you walk. Hell, he’s even indulged in kinship by patting your head and letting his fingers caress your ears. It usually doesn’t take much for you to be satisfied with those simple touches, but today you seem…needy.

And it’s not just Minho who notices. Customers, humans and were-creatures alike, see how much you cling to him. The tail that was happily dancing half an hour ago now wraps around his torso. He can feel it against his back and he finds himself enjoying this strange hug. 

Minho would usually say something. Maybe tease you and tell you to keep your tail to yourself, but something tells him that isn't the best idea right now. 

You’re hardly talking. The yapping puppy he’s so familiar with is nowhere to be seen even though you're right next to him. Standing so close that he can feel your body heat that he swears is hotter than usual. 

Maybe he should enjoy the peace and quiet that he rarely gets with you, but Minho is itching for his pup. 

“You okay?”

There, he said it. Minho is so used to you talking without being asked to the point that he covers his ears just to drown out your words. You would whine, ears pulling down while tugging at his arms. “Listen to meee!”

But instead he has to coax it out of you this time. You pull your attention away from the snacks to look at him. “Huh? Yeah no, I’m good. I have been feeling out of it recently but I think it’s just my job. Sorry, am I being boring?”

Reassurance. One of the most common needs for a weredog. To hear that they’re needed with some praise. To put it in simple terms, you want to hear that you’re being a good girl. At this point, Minho is willing to do and say anything to get you back to normal.

“Boring? I never said that. Hanging out with you is the highlight of my week…even if your furry friend keeps smacking my back.” And just like that, your eyes shine with both happiness and embarrassment. You take back control of your tail and scold it, “Stop annoying my friend.” You swat at it gently and push it back down behind you. 

Minho doesn’t even notice his hand reaching out to pet you before he can stop it. His soft palm makes contact with your hair, ruffling it before moving to your ears.

People nearby stare but Minho hardly cares. There’s something about bystanders knowing the reason for your soft rumbling and gleeful expression is because of him. Weird want, but Minho’s heard that weredogs just have that type of effect on people. Plus, Minho’s your friend. Friends are always there to help each other out and Minho just happens to be your best.

It doesn’t take much after that to get you back to your talkative self. 

“Like, I just feel bad, ya know?” You say, reaching for a meaty sandwich in the deli section of the convenience store. “No one talks to him at work and he’s always alone at lunch. Like, yeah he has a scary face and doesn’t talk to anyone, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.” A triple meat sandwich catches your attention and Minho watches your curved nails reach for the packaging. 

Minho inspects the drinks. “Maybe he has that scary face and doesn’t talk to anybody because he doesn’t want to talk to anybody.”

You roll your eyes, adding your find to the small basket looped around Minho’s arm. “Yeah, and I could say the same thing about you.” You poke his broad chest with a nail. The pain is hardly there, but Minho fakes a wounded expression and grabs his pec dramatically. “I'm bleeding!”

“Oh shut up. You’re just trying to change the subject because you know I’m right.”

“Right about what?” Minho ditches his act. “About the fact that I don’t like talking to anybody? Good job, Sherlock.” The good job makes your tail sway just slightly and Minho smiles when he sees it. 

“Oh? Then what are you doing right now with me?” You cross your arms and stare at him.

“Replying.”

“Which is…”

“Communicating.”

“And another word for that is…”

“...Moving my mouth.”

“You’re impossible.” you laugh. “Anywho, he just reminds me of how it was when we first met. You being brooding, quiet and me being awesome, of course.” The two of you venture further down the aisle. “What is it that you once told me? Something about people being dogs and cats?”

“Dogs or cats,” he corrects. “What about it?” Minho abruptly stops his steps when he sees jelly. Despite being human, you can practically see his pupils grow wide at the sight of them. 

“So based on the description I gave you, which do you think he is?”

Minho doesn’t answer immediately, can’t when his favorite dessert is quite literally on display. So many choices, so many flavors. He should buy one of each for taste testing. A couple of seconds go by before he registers your question. “Oh. Um, you said he’s like me?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Then cat, obviously.” Minho chooses a coffee and vanilla flavor. He imagines you’ll prefer the coffee one. When he turns to face you, he’s surprised to see that you’re smiling, as if already knowing he was going to say that. 

“But get this,” you hop on one leg to the other in weredog behavior. “He’s a were-dog! Like me! I don’t know what breed but I’ve never met a fellow pup so…cat. You might like him.”

Minho scoffs at your playful wink, “Don’t try setting me up on playdates. I’m fine with the friends I have now.”

You whine, a high-pitched noise coming from the back of your throat. It used to startle Minho, but now he’s grown accustomed to ignoring your complaints until you’re both at the counter emptying the basket. 

The cashier is a young werefox. He has slender eyes that stick out, enhancing his hard jaw and smooth skin. As if tired of the day, the said fox scans the items lazily, saying a standard, "Is that gonna be all?” before shoving the goodies in a black bag. 

“Well, whatever,” you smooth your puppy ears. “He’s gonna be at the dinner tonight, so you’re meeting him regardless.”

For some reason, the fox suddenly looks interested. He picks his head up and looks between Minho and you. He sniffs and jolts. Minho narrows his eyes, subtly tucking his head to his armpit and smelling. Does he stink? Minho’s thinking about changing his body wash when the cashier sniffs again, but his eyes lock on you instead.

In all werefox manner, the cashier shifts his gaze to Minho and gives a sly smile. “These are on the house.” He snatches a package so quickly off the counter that Minho can’t tell what it is as the cashier shoves it inside the bag. The fox slides the purchases to Minho, looking at you once more before winking, “Have fun tonight.”

Minho is quick to get you both out of there. Your ears are up straight, tail hanging loose between your legs while looking back. Since your tail isn’t tucked between your legs or abnormally stiff, Minho thinks he shouldn’t be too worried. But the encounter was strange, no matter how brief. 

“Did you know that guy?” You say once you’re waiting for Minho to unlock his car. 

He shakes his head, “Nah. Let’s just go.”

You don’t argue with that. Your ears flick at the sound of the door unlocking and you quickly find your seat inside the warm car. The image of the cashier crosses your mind and you look at Minho. “What’d he put in the bag?”

But Minho had already tossed the said bag in the backseat. He shrugs, “Don’t know. I’ll check it out when I get home.”

Short sentences, indirect messages to tell you to drop it. Minho is in his cat mood as he ignites the car to life and puts it in reserve. Normally, you’d crack a joke. Saying something to lighten the mood or change the subject, but you’re starting to feel hot all over again. Minho had just put the A/C on, but the warmth of the car has you heating up even more. You feel nauseous and Minho’s human scent plays no aid. Sometimes you get car sick and you’re assuming it’s one of those times. You close your eyes and breathe, telling yourself that you’ll feel better once you get home and take some medication.

It doesn’t matter how sick you are, you have a company dinner tonight that your best friend is attending and you’ll be damned if you missed just because of a little bug.

-

Minho is absolutely not taking his eyes off you tonight and no it’s not because of how good you look. Sure, maybe your button-up shirt stretches at the top because of how tight it is against your chest and yeah, maybe the black pencil skirt does wonders for your ass but those are not any of the reasons why Minho is watching you like a hawk. No, he’s stuck watching how you’re trying your best to pretend like you aren’t on the verge of turning into a puddle of sweat.

Even the other were-dog you mentioned earlier, Kim Seungmin, notices your strange behavior. Minho sees that his ears are up and that his tail swishes unsure. Still, none of that matters from how giddily you seem chatting it up with him. Something about managing to meet deadlines and confusion about the new code in the system, but it’s all white noise to Minho. 

You’re close to Seungmin - a little too close. Minho tells himself over and over that weredogs have an instinct to want to be close, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy with it. 

It looks like your tails are dancing together as they swish, though yours is more erratic. Seungmin’s eyes travel everywhere and Minho is so close to leaning over you just to push him away. 

“And the new code we have to use?” You groan. “I absolutely hate it.”

“You?” Seungmin challenges. “Hating something? I don’t believe it.”

Minho watches you scoff, watches the color of your face flush. It’s from your fever, he thinks. He hopes. 

Why on Earth would you think he would be able to get along with someone like Seungmin? He was far too quiet when you happily introduced Minho - you’re best friend may he remind you - and didn’t so much as ask what type of job he works. Seungmin may be a cat, but Minho is starting to think he’s beginning to prefer dogs.

The male weredog leans closer to you and Minho straightens. He can hear how deep he inhales before Seungmin turns his head to the side, one ear flopping over. “Are you wearing a new perfume? It smells nice.”

“Oh, thank you.” You turn to your side, finally looking at Minho and smiling at him. His heart squeezes at the sight, how your eyes shine just looking at him. “Minho got it for me a while ago, but I only wear it on special occasions.”

The smirk on Seungmin’s face vanishes once he makes eye contact with Minho. And just like that, the moody expression Minho once wore turns smug. There’s a brief moment between the two men that you don’t see. A dirty look, a sneer, a smirk. It’s such a short interaction that speaks volumes. 

Seungmin may be a dog on the outside, but that deadly look screams cat.

“God, why is it so hot in here?” You fan yourself with a hand, looking between your two friends. “I feel like I’m turning into a swamp.”

Minho glances at other people nearby. Your co-workers are drinking, eating, and talking about anything but how hot it is. Your fever must be getting out of hand and Minho is planning on asking you if you two should leave before Seungmin says, “When did your fever start?”

“Um,” you rub your hands together in an attempt to get yourself to stop feeling so antsy. Minho places a friendly hand on your knee. Nothing he’s never done before to soothe you, but you react as if he’s burned you. It feels like his hand sends shivers throughout your body and you can’t help but jolt. A soft whine leaves your lips, and poor Minho who can’t seem to notice that your distress is from his touch, decides to rub his thumb onto your skin.

What feels like buckets of arousal seep your underwear. You get the sudden urge to hump, a stupid weredog antic that you can never seem to get rid of. Your legs tense and you almost close them in an attempt to get some friction with Minho’s hand before you remember that Seungmin asked you a question. 

“M-maybe a week ago or something? I think I just ate something bad.” But when you look at Seungmin for his response, he isn’t even facing you. His focus is on your lower half, watching with a predatory look in his eyes as Minho gently strokes his thumb on your thigh. Maybe you should feel weird that your co-worker is looking at you in such a way, but it strangely adds to the sensation Minho’s providing. 

Seungmin inhales and groans, too quiet for the chatter of your company to notice but enough for you to accidentally snap your legs closed with Minho’s hand captive. 

Then finally, Seungmin looks up between you and Minho and nods to the front door. 

“Meet me outside.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he grabs his jacket and leaves. A few coworkers complain and question him, but he silences them with a mere glare and a respectful, apologetic bow to his boss.

You and Minho look amongst each other and he carefully slides his hand out from the crease of your thighs. The two of you miss the warmth from the touch, but Minho is a little more concerned with how you’ve started to paw and grasp at his hand to get it back on you.

There was such a sense of urgency in Seungmin’s voice. As much as Minho was irritated with how he was looking at you, there was genuine worry there. It would be easy for you two to ditch Seungmin and leave on your own, but something tells him there’s more than just a stomach bug going on. 

Minho takes his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers. He nearly hisses at how hot your skin is, but you only howl with satisfaction.

He stands, taking you with him, but your boss is quick to stop you from leaving. “Hey! Now where are you two going?” Shit, of course it wouldn’t be as easy to leave. 

“I think she’s had too much to drink, sir.” A lie. You haven’t touched a single drink, but no one here is sober enough to know that. “It would be better to have her sleep it off so she can make it to work tomorrow.”

Minho hopes his excuse is enough and from the belly laugh that your boss gives, he thinks it is. 

“I like the way you think! Make sure you take care of her. We’ve got a big project coming up and I need my best workers.”

A thank you, a quick bow, and Minho is quick to grab your things and lead you outside. To his luck, you play the drunk girl perfectly. Your full weight is on his shoulder that you’re leaning on, breathing into his neck and trying to nip his skin.Your tail is so out of control that you whack him and you as Minho walks to Seungmin. 

No, this isn’t a fever. 

And Seungmin is quick to confirm that the moment he sees how much you’re clinging onto Minho. He covers his mouth and nose with his hand. “Fuck. Your heat's getting bad. Why the fuck did you come in the condition?”

“I-I…no! Seung, I’m not. I can’t.” That seems to snap you out of your trance enough to answer him, but not enough to separate yourself from Minho. 

“Heat?” Minho looks at you questioningly. Didn’t you tell me the doctors said you that your animal DNA is too small for heat periods?” Which he believed without question. Minho has known you for years and you’ve never had a heat in that time. Not so much as a story to tell or any suppressors he’s seen.

You look like you’re about to cry even with the hazy look in your eye. “They did! It’s way too late for me to experience my first heat. I’m just sick.”

Seungmin scoffs. “Sick? I don’t think so. Listen, the point is, you need to leave. I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but you’re going to attract were-males with your pheromones.” He looks around protectively and then back at you, putting his hand down. “Okay, I don’t mean to come off weird, but do you think you can…handle it on your own?”

There’s a silence between the three of you. Minho blinks rapidly. Did he hear that right? Is Seungmin, this man he just met tonight, really asking to hook up with you? In front of him? Your best friend?

He must have a death wish. “What the fuck are you saying, man?”

Seungmin averts his gaze to the other male. “Was I talking to you?”

“Seungmin!” You scold.

“Nah, you don’t get it, human. She’s in heat. You’re not going to be able to properly calm her down, or worse, she’s gonna go into a frenzy because you can’t.”

This is exactly why Minho can’t stand weredogs. They’re too obsessed with something that’s not even theirs. “And you think just ‘cuz you’re a dog you can? You don’t know me and you don’t know her. Get your snout out of our business.” Minho pulls you closer. “We’re leaving, let’s go.”

He only manages to get a few steps away before Seungmin spins him around. Being so close to him, Minho realizes he’s taller, but not by much. The ears add the illusion of extra height. It’s the piercing gaze, however, that makes Minho feel small. “Tell me, Minho, have you ever been with a were-female?”

“That’s none of your business. Fuck off.”

“I’ll go ahead and give you the benefit of the doubt and say sure, maybe you have once or twice. But have you ever been with one during their heat? During their first heat? Do you know what a weredog even does in heat? What they need? For fuck's sake, your stupid nose can’t even tell the difference from last week to this week.”

Seungmin takes a step closer until his chest is almost touching Minho’s. So close that you can smell how your heat is affecting him. 

“I’m not doing this for a quick fuck and I’m sure as hell not doing it for you. Despite what your little human brain might think, I care. I care enough to make sure that she’ll go home safely and get properly taken care of. I’m not thinking of myself, unlike someone.”

It feels like a slap on the cheek. Minho’s jaw is so clenched that his teeth begin to ache. He wants to tell Seungmin that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that he’s wrong - but shit, is he really? Minho isn’t well-versed in weredogs outside of friendships and the hookups he had were all feline or human. It hurts to admit, but he doesn’t know. Minho doesn’t even know what to do with you still clinging onto him and dipping your hands up his shirt to feel his skin.

Fuuuck this.

Minho lets out a deep sigh, almost as if it hurts him to say, “You're not getting in my car. Just follow behind.”

And follow Seungmin does. On the road driving far too fast the speed limit, on the sidewalk leading up to Minho’s house, to the front door that you wobble to, up the stairs that inevitably lead to Minho’s room that you barge into. 

The bed is the first thing you go to. Neither of the men have a chance to lay down any ground rules before you bury yourself between the sheets. Minho stares as you inhale his blanket, grabbing his pillow and biting down on it with your canines. It only takes a second before you roll onto your stomach and grind on it, effectively humping his favorite pillow.

No, he isn’t staring anymore, he’s gawking. Minho nearly flinches at the amount of drool his poor pillow has to endure. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or what?” Seungmin rasps out. The voice breaks Minho’s attention, and although he knows the weredog beside him is male, he still jumps at the sight. 

Seungmin is full of want. His ears are up straight, his tail swishes as if he’s watching a prey, his teeth are bared with a hint of saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, and if Minho looks down, he could see the outline of a bulging- 

“Mmm sorry,” you whine. “Smells so good. Min’ smells so good.” Your hips press up and down deeply, getting that nice friction on your clothed cunt. It looks cute, strangely, to see how desperate you are for a release. Minho would have liked to enjoy the scene longer if it wasn’t for Seungmin losing his patience. It takes a mere three strides for Seungmin’s long legs to reach you, his eyes pupils blown wide.

Within a second, Minho is beside him.

“Don’t get any-”

“Praise her,” Seungmin chokes out. “Pet her, touch her, fuck! Just do something. I’m going crazy.” He forces himself to back away from you, opting to pace around Minho’s room, trying to look for anything to distract himself from the rut he’s about to go in. Seungmin reaches for the bottom of his shirt and begins to hastily undress. He doesn’t even spare a glance at the human when he says, “Get her undressed. Weredogs need skin contact during their heat.”

Easier said than done. You’re clawing Minho’s skin affectionately and reaching for his belt. He feels like he’s wrestling you if he ignores his boner. He manages to unbutton your top, shaky hands reaching back to unclasp your bra but you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close. Your legs wrap around his torso and bring him in, his cock to your cunt through the many layers of clothes.

“No, takes too long. Just put it in me. I’m so wet already.”

Your voice is a whisper in his ear. Minho realizes it’s because you don’t want Seungmin to hear. To sweeten the deal, you grind on his crotch. Minho’s knees are fully on the bed, giving you a much better angle to hump him instead. 

You let out the smallest whine. The tiniest sound of pleasure from something other than masturbating, but Seungmin hears it. He whips his head quickly and rushes to you two with a small package in his hand. 

Minho’s able to make it out when he gets closer. It’s from when you and him went to the convenience store earlier. When the fox cashier shot his sly smile and said, These are on the house. Have fun tonight. 

“I don’t even want to know where you got these pills,” Seungmin tosses the package to Minho. “Take it now. It should have an effect within 5 minutes.”

Knot Cock! The package reads. INSTRUCTIONS: take 5-10 minutes prior to intercourse with weredog. Do not mix with other genitalia-morphing pills. drowsiness and mild pain are- 

“Jesus fuck,” Seungmin moans. “Your pussy smells so good.”

Minho rips the package open and discards the warnings. He can read it later. Right now, he’s focused on dry swallowing the pill, finally removing his clothes, and helping Seungmin take off your skirt. 

Strings of arousal stick to your underwear as the material goes down your legs. You whine at the cold air, but Seungmin is quick to reassure you. “Good. Good. You’re doing such a good job. I’m almost done, baby.”

A scowl appears on Minho’s expression when he glances at Seungmin. It’s hard to just look at his face when the two men are naked. It’s far too easy to notice the flush in Seungmin’s chest and cock. How different, yet similar, it looks to his own. 

They’re doing this together, why is he taking all the credit? He’s not even supposed to be here, he’s just helping. “I got you,” Minho emphasizes. He places his hand on your bare thighs and gently spreads them apart. 

In all its glory, your cunt shines with arousal. For a brief moment, the men stare. There’s no arguing with your pussy doing all the talking, wetness seeping through your folds as if it’s crying. It’s only seconds they take time drooling over you, but too many seconds too long. You impatiently reach your hand down and spread your lower lips, using your other hand to rub your fluttering hole.

“Please, pleaseplease-”

Seungmin moves first, much to Minho’s displeasure. A growl emits from his chest as Seungmin peels your hands away from your cunt. Saliva drips down his chin - down his neck. Minho thinks he might eat you, but Seungmin opts to devour your cunt.

The sound that leaves you is more of a howl than a moan. A noise of appreciation and pleasure at every swipe of his tongue. Seungmin’s throat vibrates with his grunts, it bobs with every gulp. You thread one hand into his hair and the other entwines with Minho’s fingers. Minho can’t tell if he’s squeezing your hand or if you're squeezing his, but it doesn’t matter. Not when a foreign haze begins to take hold of his senses, a pressure in his cock he’s never felt before. 

Minho tears his gaze from Seungmin eating you out to see his cock enlarged. He’s never seen it so big and red. He’s especially never had a ring at the base, a near-identical state of Seungmin’s. The shock almost distracts him from the urge he’s getting - the urge to push Seungmin aside, to have you close to him in every and any way possible. 

Crap, the pill is working a lot better than Minho would have guessed. 

To try and fight the effects, Minho leans down to get a taste of your cunt. The scent of you grows stronger, but Minho isn’t able to get his lick in when Seungmin pulls away to growl at him. Much to Minho’s horror, he growls back. The men bare their teeth, a clear sign of intimidation and Minho doesn’t back away from even with Seungmin’s sharp canines. 

You, however, notice the clash of pheromones. You hear the snarls loud enough to pick your head up and focus your dilated pupils. Roughly, you move your hands to grip the back of their heads and force them into your cunt. They bonk their foreheads slightly, a soft whine coming from Seungmin and a final snarl from Minho before they succumb to your taste. 

They can’t notice how their tongues mix and clash, or maybe they do, but sucking on your clit outweighs the fact. You can’t find yourself to care when their tongues move as if they’re fighting. One muscle pushes the other out of the way just for it to do it back. It’s almost cute if it was in any other situation, but you still smile and moan when one tongue flicks your clit.

Without needing to speak to each other, the men silently agree to move together to hear you again. Starting towards the bottom of your clit, Minho and Seungmin glide up. You tremble and squeal when the tips of their tongue continuously flick at your bud, but they graciously dip back down. Looking at how they suck your clit only amplifies the feeling of pleasure, but you can’t look away. It’s a hypnotic sight, watching their tongues lap up and down, watching the saliva spread to your thighs and pelvis from how much they lick. 

You could cum just like this, looking into their eyes with your cunt in their mouth, but you don’t want to finish like that. Your heat makes it so that it feels painful to be empty no matter how their tongues tease your entrance. The only thing you need to be satisfied is to be full. So full of cum that it leaks for weeks after. To be stuffed and properly bred into with any male. They may have fought in the beginning, but you’re beyond elated for your first heat to be with them.

It’s far too hard to use words, not when you're panting and moaning with every lick, but you manage to get out small, nonono’s that make Seungmin’s ears perk up. Minho takes the opportunity to fully be on your cunt, sucking and dragging his tongue while Seungmin paws up to you.

He doesn’t have to ask, his eyes say it all with the worry and arousal in them.

“Fuck me.” Gosh, you’ve never been so direct before. “No more licking just please. It hurts.” You place a hand on your stomach, emphasizing the emptiness. “Wanna be full.”

Minho swears when Seungmin rips his head from your cunt. He;’s forced off with Seungmin’s fingers in his hair. Minho might have snarled again, but he heard your begging. Heard how the two of them eating you out did little to help your heat. It was only a matter of time before either of them was inside you, but the real question is who. Maybe Minho would have been more open, thinking more logically, about letting Seungmin go first, but the drug in his system makes it so the most important thing is having you to himself. 

The look Minho gives Seungmin is deadly. “I’m going first.”

Seungmin doesn’t so much as acknowledge his words - can’t when he’s already stroking his cock and balancing himself on his knees. Minho hates how he succumbs to the drug, shoving Seungmin so hard that he nearly falls off the bed. “I said -” But Seungmin doesn’t let Minho finish, interrupting the older male with a just-as-hard push.

“Stop,” you all but whisper. They look at you and the expression on your face makes them obey, save for the teeth. “I…I want both. Can’t I have both?”

Is that even possible? Minho can only imagine how difficult it would be to take two cocks, let alone knots that will surely have your pussy expanding. It seems like Seungmin is thinking the same thing based on his confused expression, but his rut makes him just as clueless as Minho.

The men look at each other, eyes clear for the first time in a while. No words are needed to come to a silent agreement. Minho tucks himself between you and the bed, flipping you the other way until you’re chest-to-chest with your best friend. Seungmin stays on his knees on the bed, his cock pointed at your entrance. It takes a bit more adjusting before you’re nicely sandwiched between the two and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Their scent covers you perfectly with their skin on every inch of yours. 

You’ve never gotten the experience to nest, but you assume it feels something like this.

Minho’s erection sits between your thighs, hot and heavy. You should feel weird, gross even, having your closest friend getting ready to fuck you. That feeling never happens. Not even as you lift your hips for Minho to grab his cock and angle it towards your cunt.

“Tell me-” He moans when you slide your cunt against his tip. “T-tell me if it hurts.”

You would have laughed if you could. Feeling genuine pain seems impossible in your state, but you nod anyway. 

Minho doesn’t waste time rubbing his dick on your cunt. His cock is throbbing so painfully that the only relief is sinking into you.

Inch by inch, he enters. The tip flares more than it normally would, not that you would know, and the stretch has you whining into his chest. His scent calms you and you suck on his skin to further soothe yourself. Minho isn’t going as slow as he wants to. He’s trying to open you up gently, but your cunt is so warm, so soft, that he can’t help himself from fucking into you until his artificial knot prevents him from going deeper.

Veins bulge from Minho’s neck. He’s never had sex like this - he’s never had such an urge to claim, to breed. His cock is unbelievably sensitive and your pussy feels like heaven. He groans, hands going to your ass to squeeze the pulp flesh. 

It’s then that he feels a different set of hands that he’s reminded of the actual male were-dog. “I’m in. You can-”

Seungmin, who’s been patiently sitting, pushes into you without any further instruction. The intrusion makes you yip from surprise. Minho’s ears pick up on the sound and a sense of inhumane protection overcomes him. He thinks you’re in pain from the small howl, but you moan almost immediately after. Seungmin thrusts into you much quicker, much faster than Minho had initially. 

“Finally.” It sounds guttural from Seungmin’s throat. “Been waiting forever.”

Unlike Minho, who at least tries to savor the feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, Seungmin ruts into you. The force of his thrusts makes you rock against Minho’s length. You let out little squeals and whimpers with every move right into Minho’s ear. If he wanted, Minho could finish just like this. With Seungmin’s cock rubbing against his own and your pussy moving just enough for some friction.

But Minho doesn’t want to just cum.

He wants to carve himself in you. To make his mark in the deepest part of you. Minho places his feet flat on the bed to properly thrust. It only takes one time to have you biting down his chest, your sharp teeth digging painfully into his skin. 

“Fuck!” Minho’s flesh tastes of salt and desire. “Fuuuuck…”

Seungmin puts his hands on your lower back, causing you to arch at just the right angle for their tips to kiss your cervix. They buck up into you with different tempos, one going in while the other goes out. It’s an endless feeling of being filled. You swear you can feel them touching the back of your throat with how deep they are.

Distantly, you can feel the wetness of Seungmin’s drool dripping onto your ass. Pulling your teeth from Minho’s chest, you turn back to see just as you thought. Seungmin’s eyes are blown wide, tail stiff and pointed upwards with his flat tongue hanging out. He probably doesn’t even notice the mess he’s making on your back with his eyes locked where you three connect.

Minho groans at the welt from the wound you’ve left, but the pain is quickly forgotten at your tightening walls. He's astonished, truthfully, at how much your cunt can open. How eager it is to be pumped and used until it’s satisfied. Words can’t seem to leave him though, he can’t tell you how much he loves feeling your cunt and Seungmin’s cock working together. 

No, instead, the noises he’s making are eerily similar to Seungmin. To try and quiet himself, Minho buries his face into your neck. He licks and sucks the skin there, gripping your ass harder as he manages to finally match his pace with the were-dog.

With your scent (and with the help of the pill) he understands why you bit him. What better way to claim you than both on the inside and outside? His teeth graze the sensitive part of your neck. You whine, lifting your neck higher to allow Minho better access. It’s not as easy to do with your body jolting from their thrusts, but Seungmin is quick to help.

He uses a hand to grip your hair, lifting you so high that your chest completely lifts from Minho’s. You whimper at the sudden movement, but the men are quick to kiss each side of your throat in apology. The new angle has you gushing overwhelmingly. Minho might have to buy a new mattress entirely.

“Feel that?” Seungmin glances at Minho. “Feel that pussy clenching?”

Minho can’t find the will to pull his lips away from you, so he looks back at Seungmin in acknowledgment. 

“That’s her telling us to cum in it. Ready to be bred like a good pup, huh?” He shakes his fist with your hair in his hand. 

You let him wiggle your head, nodding along with the movements. Seungmin grunts with approval and keeps your neck bare to them. Their movements grow sloppy, suddenly unable to keep a solid rhythm with their cocks pushing deeper and deeper until you know it’s only a matter of time before their knots fill you. You feel your saliva drip down your chin and Minho is gracious enough to kiss the drool away. 

Seungmin’s claws dig into your back and scalp and Minho’s blunt nails squeeze the flesh of your ass. They snarl, though this time, it’s far from how it was before. 

“Shit. How are you still so tight with two cocks in you?” Minho grunts out. His teeth nip your throat and Seungmin mimics on the other side. “So close, pup.” Seungmin sucks harshly on your bruising flesh. “Gonna take our knots so good.”

“So good,” you confirm. “Give it to me. Min’... Seung’. I need it.”

It’s in unison that they bite you. Minho’s dull teeth hurt compared to Seungmin’s pointed canines, but the stinging on your neck is nothing compared to the stretch between your legs when they force their knots in. You nearly scream from the intrusion, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finally, finally cum with every cell in your body.

Your cunt expands with the spurts of cum from their cocks. It’s impossible for anything to drip out of your cunt, their dicks are perfectly made to ensure your pussy swallows everything. Their growls are loud in your ears, possessive and satisfied with their knot being buried in you. Minho is first to pull his teeth away from you, licking the mark better until he moves to a different spot to suck. Seungmin, on the other hand, opts to bite harder, ensuring his teeth will leave marks you’ll have to cover up. It’s not until he tastes the familiar metallic tang that he pulls away and pacifies the sting with his lips.

Seungmin releases his grip and you collapse on Minho’s chest. The men give shallow thrusts to further guarantee that you’re stuffed before you whine and twitch. Their hands soothe your body to coax you further into relaxation. 

Minutes pass by before Minho thinks he’s ready to move. He tries to pull his cock out, but he’s met with resistance as if his dick and your pussy are actually molded together…with Seungmin’s, unfortunately. 

You bark out a cry from pain - not the good kind - and Seungmin growls with annoyance.

“What the fuck?” Minho looks bewildered. His confused eyes find Seungmin’s. “Why can’t I move?” You’d laugh if you weren’t so fucked out, or if the throbbing between your legs was bearable. Seungmin clicks his tongue and laughs colorlessly. “Cuz we’re knotted, pretty boy. You’re gonna be stuck with me for a while. Literally.”

[revasserium]

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

[sugrhigh]

HOTBOX 2 - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

part one

summary- matt smoked with his best friends for the first time, and after you guys get home his dirty thoughts about you finally come to life

warnings- SMUT !! so don’t read if ur uncomfy, swearing, unprotected sex, slightly subby!matt

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: HEHE i had fun writing this so i hope you guys truly enjoy. i will be working on boy next door and a beautiful fall req i just received, but until those are posted my inbox is open for any comments, reqs, or sweet nothings xoxo

dedicated to the lovely @awsturn thank you for requesting!!!

@fawnchives @mattswrld @l1ttlefreakk @teapartyprincess4two @l9vesick

“oh wow, matt.” nick can’t stifle his laughter as his brother walks through the front door with the rest of you.

he’s got his arm around your shoulder, leaning some of his weight on you as you move in unison. he promised he could walk fine on his own, but you insisted on being there just in case.

not that he minds the physical contact.

“what?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes finally focus.

“nothing you just look…very faded.”

“that’s because he is.” you reply for him.

“hey, so are you guys!” matt argues, and you nod your head absentmindedly as the two of you head past nick to the living room.

“yes, we are. do you want to sit?”

“are you going to?”

you laugh and untangle yourself from his arms once you’re beside the couch. “you don’t have to do everything i do, you know.”

his legs are far less shaky than they were before, but he plops down on the plush cushions regardless. the rest of the group is still chattering in the foyer, and he appreciates the few seconds of alone time he gets with you.

“just wanted to make sure you weren’t leaving.” matt shrugs lazily in response.

“i’m literally spending the night dork.” you remind him, turning to head into the kitchen.

you’re unknowingly giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walk, covered only by those thin little yoga pants, hips swaying back and forth like you’re taunting him on purpose.

he has to force himself to look away, to try and put an end to all of the filthy thoughts churning in his mind. he shouldn’t be thinking them, especially not about one of his best friends.

but matt is too fried to pretend he doesn’t have feelings for you. he always has. it’s just harder to hide how much he wants you when he can barely remember how to breathe.

it’s pretty late, so chris and nathan announce that they’re going to his room to play video games. the pair are already bounding down the hall as you return to the living room, equipped with a bottle of water in one hand.

“where the hell are they off to?” you ask with a grin, passing him the drink.

“going to play fortnite or something.” matt replies, taking the water into his own trembling hands.

he tries to ignore the way his fingers pass over yours, tries not to wonder if you feel the same spark that he does just from a simple touch. luckily, nick enters seconds later which relieves some of the tension.

he watches his brother wrap you in a quick hug. “i have to finish editing, but i’ll see you in the morning.”

“you better be up in time for mcdonald’s breakfast.” you point an accusatory finger at him as he heads to his room laughing.

“yeah, yeah, wake me whenever. goodnight matt, drink that water.”

he hears the door click closed a second later, his eyes trained on you as you move to sit down beside him. your thigh is inches from his, but you’re still too far away for his liking.

“are you sleepy?” you ask him as you settle down against the cushions, finally meeting his gaze once you’re comfortable.

“not really.” he finds himself smiling at you, for no real reason besides the fact that he loves you.

you tilt your head to the side, studying him with a look in your eyes that indicates you’re amused. “okay, how are you then? enjoying it?”

his eyes are low and red, watching your lips as they move. he can’t stop thinking about your fingers gently gripping his thigh earlier, the confident tone in which you speak to him, how you handle yourself.

all of that mixed with the weed is making him incredibly turned on. he shifts a little, dropping the water bottle on the couch so he can use his hands to cover his lap.

“yeah, i’m enjoying it.” matt says quietly, unable to look anywhere besides you.

you furrow your brows a little bit, but your grin doesn’t fade, which makes him feel better.

“alright, what’s going on? i know you’re high and everything, but you’re acting a little too weird.” you accuse him, though your demeanor is light-hearted as you nudge your shoulder against his.

he shakes his head just slightly as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. “what do you mean? i’m totally normal.”

matt finds that his voice is just a little too squeaky and quick to be convincing, and he knows he’s not a very good liar, especially when it comes to you.

“come on, i know that’s not true. you can tell me anything.” you push, moving a little bit so that you can properly face him.

the light coming from the kitchen silhouettes your features beautifully, and he can feel the words crawling up his throat. it’s involuntary, but the truth is coming out either way.

“i already told you earlier.”

“what?”

“i just…want you.” he finally admits breathlessly.

this catches you completely off guard, considering you had pushed your previous conversation in the car to the back of your mind. you figured he was just tripping, only saying flirty things because he was so out of it.

your lips part like you’re going to speak, but nothing happens. matt studies your face for any kind of emotion other than shock, but he can’t read you, which makes him anxious.

“i’m sorry, fuck, i don’t know why i’m saying this shit right now, of all times, but you look so pretty and i just…i needed you to know because—” he stumbles over his words, which morph together in the wrong places.

“matt, matt, it’s okay.”

you put a hand on his thigh again, trying to let him know that everything is fine, and he literally twitches from the pressure of your palm being so close to where he needs you.

“don’t do that.” he hisses, unable to control the way he slightly bucks against your fingers.

but you don’t move, because you feel yourself throb at the sight of him growing hard in his sweatpants. all because you touched him.

“matt…” you tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you.

he exhales a long breath before he finally does, his faded eyes wider now, cheeks flushed and brown hair messy from the wind of the car ride home. he looks beautiful, your beautiful best friend.

but matt is way more. you need him to be more.

“are you sure you want this?” you say faintly, leaning in just enough for him to notice.

“do you want this?”

you nod your head slowly, staring at his pink lips, unable to stop wondering if they’re as soft as they look. so you meet him the rest of the way, your mouth meshing against his gently.

matt almost melts at the feeling, and butterflies erupt through his chest. he can’t believe this is happening. part of him wonders if he fell asleep, and is dreaming it all up.

it’s thrilling, how desperate you both are for more, how his tongue slips against yours so nicely, and he has to contain himself when you bite down on his bottom lip every so often.

you pull away and swing your leg over his lap so you can straddle him. he groans quietly underneath you, because your hips feel so nice on his that he already wants to combust on the spot.

and then you lean down to his ear, moving slowly against his hard dick, so close he can feel your breath tickle his skin.

“i’m gonna take care of that, baby,” you whisper, “but you have to be quiet. can you do that?”

matt nods eagerly and you kiss his neck in response, tugging at the skin lightly. his hands travel to your ass, gripping it tightly to force some more friction.

he feels you grin against his throat, and he has to hold back a moan from the combined sensation of your tongue and hips going to work.

you move up to his jaw, across his cheek, back to his mouth, and this time he smiles against your lips. kissing you is just so sweet, even when it’s sinful, and he’s so high and happy it's impossible not to.

you pepper him with a few more quick pecks before crawling off of his lap, crouching down between his knees. he’s already needy, missing having you on top of him even though you look gorgeous at his feet.

matt reaches out to smooth your hair, holding your head in his hand as his thumb brushes your cheek.

“are you real?” it leaves his mouth before he can think.

you let out a breathy laugh, turning your head to kiss the heel of his palm softly. “i’m real, i promise.”

the intimacy of the moment, just that small gesture, is making his heart slam against his ribcage.

you reach up to hook your fingers underneath the waist of his sweats, tugging them down to indicate he should lift himself. matt does just that, pressing his back against the couch so you can slide the soft material down to his ankles.

your run your hands up his thighs before you go to the band of his boxers, pulling so that his dick springs free. he’s already wet and straining, precum soaking his tip, and he’s a little embarrassed by the way you’re looking at it.

but you’re only staring because it’s bigger than you expected, possibly the biggest you’ve seen in person. you’re entranced as your fingers glide over his tip, spreading his wetness across the rest of the base.

“shit…” matt mutters under his breath, throwing his head back against the couch as he fucks himself into your hand slightly.

you love hearing him all breathless, watching his muscles clench in pleasure as you stroke him. but you can tell he’s already worked up enough, so you start to slow your movements to a stop before pushing yourself to stand.

his head snaps back up, surprised by the switch in pace, and then his eyes get wider. you slip your leggings off, reaching for the hem of your shirt after so you can tug it over your head and discard it with your pants.

he loves seeing you exposed like this, every curve, every gorgeous little detail that makes your body your body.

“my pretty girl.” he praises, completely pussy whipped already, and it makes you a little bit shy as you stand before him.

you just like matt so much, and hearing him compliment you in such a personal setting only confirms how much you need him.

“want you inside me.” you murmur, straddling his waist again, sliding your wet panties against his shaft lightly as you get situated.

“please, oh my god—” he’s choking on his own words as you push your panties to the side, lining him up with your entrance.

you sink down on him without warning, feeling that delicious and familiar pressure in your stomach as he fills you up. matt’s hands find their way to your ass again, in a state of complete euphoria from having you wrapped around him.

you both groan, and you lean in so you can attach your mouth to his, swallowing the sounds of your shared pleasure. he helps guide you up and down, slowly at first, admiring the way you squeeze his dick every time he’s fully inside.

“fuck, you feel so good matt.” you whine against his lips as quietly as possible, picking up the pace and moving your hips at a quicker speed, hands on the frame of the sofa to help you bounce.

“promise you feel better.” he manages to respond before having to bite down on his bottom lip hard to contain a moan.

you’re riding him so well, skin slapping skin together ever so slightly. matt uses one hand to tug your bra down so he can slide his tongue over one of your nipples. you arch into his wet mouth, enjoying the way he softly sucks on each of them, swapping every so often.

he loves having your tits in his face so much, and he knows he won’t be able to hang on much longer with the way you’re moving.

“m’close, oh fuck—” his eyes roll back as you rock against him as fast as possible, rotating your hips so he hits a different spot every time.

“that’s it baby, keep fucking me, let it all go.” you command, relishing in the wave that’s taking over you as well.

matt slams you down on him a couple more times before he feels his fingers lose their grip, shuddering as he finishes inside you, breathless and sweaty.

your own muscles tense and you dive into it, releasing all over his cock as you slow your pace due to the overstimulation. you’re also panting as you slide off of him, rolling over his leg so you can sit beside him for a minute.

“that was…wow.” matt sighs happily as the both of you readjust your underwear.

“agreed.” you turn your head to smile at him, leaning in for one more little kiss.

it’s short, but it’s still just as passionate as the ones that came before. you could do it all day, his lips are just that soft.

“we should probably get cleaned up. do you wanna spend the night in my room?” his voice is still hushed once you pull away, and there’s a certain weight behind his words.

“i kinda want to sleep in your room every night.” you reply honestly, and his face lights up again at the confession, because he feels the exact same.

“i think i would kinda like that a lot.”

[algae-tm]

KILL BILL P.6

Charles Leclerc x famous singer! reader

Warnings : morally grey reader, toxic exes

Author’s note : There are so many x readers where the reader doesn’t do anything wrong, which I love don’t get me wrong but I wanted to write one where she’s a bit flawed. And obvs I cannot hate her cause she’s just in love and this is lossely (very loosely) based around real life events y’all so I get it! And also I love Alex 😭 I was gunna make her the villain but I literally can’t! So this is going a bit of a diff direction, in terms of ending. - Algae 🌱

•••••

INSTAGRAM

y/bff/n

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 678,798 others

y/bff/n : talking about boys over brunch? (tagged : yourusername)

yourusername : feels like I’m 18 again

— user3 : holdup when did y/n and Charles get together?

— user4 : she was 18 and he was 19/20…

— user5 : lmao that’s why he’s got her wrapped round his finger… poor baby hasn’t known any better

— user7 : not you guys acting like Charles groomed her be so serious! they have a 1 and a half year age gap touch grass.

— user9 : you can’t argue with people like this, they’re so chronically online!

— user4 : so how did they meet?

— user19 : google is free!

— user6 : her and Lewis did a fashion campaign when she was 16, and he sort of took her under his wing, cause I think her parents were a bit... I believe she then met Charles when she came to watch a race and watched the f2 race as well.

user1 : y/n telling you about how she’s a slut?

— y/bff/n : only ever having been with 1 man equals slut?

— user1 : going after a man with a girlfriend surely does.

lewishamilton : we love to see it

— y/bff/n : we sure do 😍

— yourusername : not you guys acting like I was dead in a ditch…

— y/bff/n : you were in man purgatory, it’s basically the same thing.

user11 : does Oscar know y/bff/n?

— user12 : No why?

— user11 : cause bros lurking in the comments

— user1 : lmao you think the skank’s gunna go for him next? (user1 has been blocked)

— user13 : @oscarpiatri trust you do not know how to handle @yourusename

— user11: poor baby she’d eat him alive

user13 : oh to be a fly on the wall for the Charles convo

user14 : trust it was hours long

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and 10,987,843 others

yourusername : boys are awful and grotesque. i had to decompress on an island to get the crazy out of my brain. it’s a good thing mics are portable. Thank you Ephraim! My concierge for finding me a keyboard so I could get you guys this song that entered my brain almost two weeks ago and refused to leave. It’s a good teaser for my album, which is out in TWO days. so without further ado hope y’all like The Weekend!! if you don’t like it I’ll cry.

lewishamilton : oh this gives context to the unhinged messages you sent me at 1 am

— yourusername : I’m an artist, it’s my creative process

— lewishamilton : well this is way more constructive than turning up in Monaco

— user5 : oop- not you clocked by Lewis Hamilton of all people

— user7 : well I’m happy that Lewis doesn’t condone the behaviour of a slag

— user8 : lmao even her friends are getting tired of her

— user9 I think y’all are forgetting that they were together for six years, it was y/n’s first relationship, he dumps her out of the blue gets a new girlfriend within months. I for one would also go a bit crazy and need to be secluded on an island! Too bad I don’t have island money lmao

lewishamilton : I’ve been listening non stop! You truly out did yourself kid 🖤

y/bff/n : thank god you are not in Canada rn

y/bff/n : i was having a heart attack!

y/bff/n : you need to tell me before you travel across the world! We cannot have a repeat of last time.

— yourusername : have I really traumatised you that badly?

——y/bff/name : yes

—— lewishamilton : yes

—— yoursiblinguser : yes

—— friend1 : yes

—— danielricciardo: yes

—— oscarpiastri : yes

——yourusername : now hang on @oscarpiatri I don’t even know you!

— — oscarpiastri : wanna change that?

——- user11 : not you going after your dad’s ex

——-user14 : about to be a messy family reunion

——-danielricciardo : check that Aussie charm 🇦🇺

user7 : okay someone please talk about the lyrics????? Right off the bat it’s unhinged?? “WHY YOU WANT ME WHEN YOUVE GOT A GIRL??!” No cause that is so true like @charles_leclerc why are you still contacting her when Alex is right there?? (Liked by yourusername)

— user8 : ‘knowing it’s selfish, knowing I’m desperate’ oh she’s DOWN BAD!!

— user7 : you get it… cause DESPERATE, you’re describing yourself as desperate?? Bad bitch down in aisle 4 I fear!

user9 : lmao no cause you’ve outdone yourself! What do you mean ‘my man is my man, is your man. Heard that’s her man too’

— user21 : no cause she really is not a serious individual 😂

— user10 : the song is a bop don’t get me wrong but am I the only one who’s thinking about Alex in all this??

— user11 : poor girl hasn’t done anything apart from like a serial monogamist…

— user12 : I mean after this release Alex just needs to count her losses and leave him (liked by alexandrasaintmleux)

— user13 : oop- not her liking… clock it! But at this point I think this is just a messy situation where everyone’s gunna lose. Especially Alex poor girl never stood a chance

user22 : I just keep him satisfied through the weekend!

— user23 : you’re like 9 to 5 I’m the weekend!!!!

— user24 : make him lose his mind every weekend!!!!

sza : please god never let me be this down bad over a man 🙏🏾

— yourusername : now I know you’re not the one talking 🤨

badgalriri : 🖤

donatella_versace : DONATELLA VERSACE 💜

user17 : release the album NOW!

user18 : I’m sorry but weren’t we just mad at her? Releasing a song doesn’t make you automatically in the right? In fact even the song paints her as a bit of a villain :( I can’t imagine poor Alex listening to it.

— user19 : right? She’s practically begging him to cheat with her

— user15 : i really don’t know how to feel about the whole situation but it’s definitely not a good feeling…

••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee @callsignwidow

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART ONE

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

series masterlist | next part

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by flo_norris_showjumping, lilymhe and 128,303 others

yourusername nice little practice today in between interviews. ready for a relaxed weekend

view all 2,054 comments

user1 give bean all the carrots from us!

user2 so excited for the showjumping season!!!!

flo_norris_showjumping what a duo you two are already👏🏻

user3 i love that you practice in a full face of makeup. go girl slay!

yourusername @/user3 LMAO my makeup did not look that good by the end of it. p much had to redo it all for interview no.2

lilymhe OBSESSED

yourusername @/lilymhe GIRL I MISS YOU

lilymhe MISS YOU MORE. gotta link up when you’re back around :’)

user4 lily + y/n. my fav duo. i’ve missed their flirting

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and 277,098 others

landonorris not meant to be today but we bounce back

view all 3,671 comments

user5 we love you🧡 you did so well

mclaren onto better things🧡

user3 @/yourusername ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

liked by yourusername

user6 @/user3 SHE KNOWS HIS SISTER OFC SHE FOLLOWS HIM

user3 that’s hot

oscarpiastri 🧡🧡🧡

user7 the loves of my life fr

f1updates just posted ੈ✩‧₊˚

f1updates star studded turn out today for @/lilymhe’s golf game! joining f1 stars such as lando norris, charles leclerc and alex albon is lily’s friend and pro showjumper y/n y/l/n!

user1 SHES SO CUTE

user3 the way this is just her jumping off a flight to go support her bff…. i’ll cry she looks so pretty

user7 WITH LANDO ALEX AND CHARLES???

user5 I KNOW I DONT KNOW HOW MORE PEOPLE ARENT FREAKING OUT

user8 i mean we know she knows alex bc of lily but…. lando and charles

yourusername stop looking at these photos i was so jet lagged….

user4 AND STILL CUTE!

user2 not bestie following f1updates😭

user3 @/user2 i bet she’s a lewis girlie. she has that vibe

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

lilymhe just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 202,311 others

lilymhe good game, better celebrations

👤tagged yourusername, alex_albon, landonorris

view all 1,342 comments

user1 Y/N AND LANDO??? DANCING N HANGING OUT?????

alex_albon y/n is a terrible photographer but lando is a bad dancer. it equals out

yourusername SLANDER ON MY PHOTOGRAPHY SKILLS

landonorris @/yourusername i’ll teach you to drive, you teach me to dance?

yourusername @/landonorris … meet my horse i’ll consider it

landonorris @/yourusername i said it last night and i’ll say it again… NO! no reason for an animal to have that long a neck

yourusername @/landonorris wow. friendship over before it began

alex_albon @/landonorris giraffes are calling

user7 what is going on in these comments…

user5 damn they just met and are already flirting? the devil works hard but lando works harder

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 152,009 others

yourusername life lately

👤tagged landonorris, lilymhe

view all 32,446 comments

user2 OH SO UR HANGING OUT NOW?

flo_norris_showjumping MY BROTHER?

yourusername @/flo_norris_showjumping ANSWER MY TEXTS

user6 why texts what’s going on miss y/n👀

user3 beauty

user5 all the grid boys liking… oh you know lando is talking about her

user7 who can blame him i mean LOOK AT HER

alex_albon how come lily gets a cute ass photo and the one you posted of me last week made me look like a demon

yourusername she’s my favourite parent🩷

y/nupdates posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris and 21,335 others

y/nupdates the showjumping season is officially underway! sending all our love to @/yourusername and mr. bean today on their first competition🩷

view all 102 comments

user5 lando creeping in the likes lmao

user2 what is going on between lando and y/n…

y/nupdates all we know is that they’re friends and we love that!🩷

user9 hm

user1 ?

user9 @/user1 he doesn’t need any distractions.

user1 @/user9 bestie it’s a post announcing a competition season not a marriage proposal💀

a/n: first part down!!! not super interesting but this is self indulgent as a horse girl myself LMAO. welcome to my acc i guess???

to be tagged when the next part goes up (won’t be long): taglist

- giselle

[oxydiane]

sns is so fucking unhinged and nobody will ever be them i’m sorry. you start the series and it’s like oh haha look at these goofy angsty rivals! they hate each other! then sasuke dies for naruto thirty chapters in giving up his dream of revenge and naruto goes batshit insane. now you’re like ah they’re friends i guess that’s cute! and sasuke is trying to kill naruto because he’s the most important person in his life which is . ok and it becomes the driving force of everything or something. sasuke leaves and naruto dedicates the rest of his life to bringing him back and you’re still a casual fan so ur like he’s doing it for the promise right? then orochimaru says sasuke is his and naruto goes batshit insane feral homicidal (again) and after that sasuke reappears and they have ??? like five different panels dedicated to them staring at each other??? and he jumps off a mountain and hugs naruto for some reasons just to whisper some gay shit in his ear kishimoto frankly needs to be jailed drawing this and keep that best friend nonsense going. anyways. you have sasuke become a convicted terrorist to which the normal people response is “ok we need to hunt him down” and when naruto learns they’re gonna hunt him down he starts screaming crying throwing up he has a panic attack he can’t breathe he’s falling in the snow he gets on his knees and begs them to spare his BFF. after having a meltdown over the thought of sasuke dying what may possibly be the natural coping mechanism any stable person would adapt? of course realising that if sasuke dies he can die too. so he sees sasuke again and after he attempts murdering sakura twice and expresses the intent to murder kakashi he’s like. i will bear the burden of your hatred and die with you hehe and if we both die you won’t be an uchiha and i won’t be the jinchuuriki to the nine tails and we’ll be able to understand each other better in a different lifetime! WE’LL MEET AGAIN IN THE AFTERLIFE BECAUSE NOT EVEN DEATH CAN DO US PART! and sasuke (just as insane as him) doesn’t even flinch he’s like what the fuck is wrong with you but then ok let’s fuckingggf die together on my god i will kill your first anyways . then they find out they are soulmates and get cute matching tattoos on their hands and decide to fight to the death once more because sasuke is back on his i will shoulder all the hatred of the world alone and i need to kill you because i love you more than anyone else in the world actually you’re the only person i love so you need to DIE and naruto is like I WILL NOT LET YOU SHOULDER THAT HATRED ALONE I WILL FREE YOU FROM THE PAIN and they fight and despite all the whatever weapons used in the war it’s a fuckinggg fistfight in which just as sasuke is about to inflict what he thinks is the last blow says “farewell… my one and only…………………. (very long pause to accentuate how heteronormative this next word is gonna be) FRIEND” and fucking stops using his sharingan because not even then he can record the image of naruto dying especially by his hand but naruto STOPS HIM LIKE A f cHAMP and they end up blowing each other’s arms off (rip the matchies) and as they’re bleeding to the fucking death sasuke is like you’re the only person that has never tried to severe their ties with me why do you go so far for me and naruto from the depths of comphet hell is like because you’re my FRIEND and sasuke being absolutely done with this bullshit is like ok what the fuck does that mean to you then and this is where it gets even gayer and relatable because naruto is like i don’t KNOW i just know that when you hurt i hurt and i just can’t take it and isn’t that the most gay experience thing ever? naruto knows what it feels like to have friends but what he feels for sasuke is so bone deep and unconventional that he cannot make sense of it and can only describe the pain it brings. after that sasuke CRIES LIKE THEYVE GOT ME SOOO FUCKED UP but you know what got me even more fucked up?

naruto waking up bloodied and battered and half alive with one arm missing but still wondering if that was heaven because sasuke was next to him. sasuke looking so happy and peaceful when saying “i lost” as a stark contrast to him looking and feeling like half of his body was being torn apart when he “won” against naruto in vote1 and left him. the bitterness of victory vs the sweetness of losing if you will. AND HIM COMPARING WHAT HE FEELS FOR NARUTO TO PRAYING MY GODD. did i forget to mention that then we learn that Ohhh it was never a stupid shallow rivalry as we all thought! they have actually been watching each other from afar since they were little freshly traumatised children and have longed to hold each other’s hands since then! what was it sasukeeee you felt warm and fuzzy when you saw naruto to thought of it as a weakness? these two are so astronomically hopelessly desperately obsessed in love with each other it’s ridiculous i’ve had ENOUGH free me from this mental prison

[justwinginglife]

Hi! I absolutely loveeeee your writing!!! Hopefully you’re still doing requests hehe…

Maybe reader and Hoshina were childhood bffs and then the reader’s family sent her abroad (maybe to serve in another county’s defense force???) but now she’s back in Japan and assigned to the Third Division. And ofc they still make an amazing team and know each other by heart and maybeeeee some feelings start to rise now that they’re adults and all that???

HELLO I'm so happy you love my writing! Of COURSE I'm still doing requests, I'm having too much fun with everyone's prompts so thank you for sending me more suggestions!

No Matter The Distance

You were dreaming of Soshiro again. This time you recalled the memory of when you were eight and you'd tripped and scraped your knees so he carried you home on his back. You were such a crybaby back then. You nearly soaked his shoulder, sobbing from the pain. He sang to you the whole way home so you'd focus on his voice and not your bleeding knees. He surprisingly sang rather well.

"Sing to me again." You mumbled in your sleep as you rolled over onto your side. "I like when you sing... to me..."

When you woke up in the morning, he was neither singing to you nor carrying you, in fact, he wasn't even in the same country as you. It was a rude awakening every time and you still hadn't gotten used to it.

You knew it was naive of you to cling to memories from your past, but when you relived them every night it didn't seem so long ago. But now that you counted, it had been about six years since you'd seen him. You'd known each other since preschool and you'd parted ways when you both turned 18. Your parents thought you'd make a better life for yourself in America so you were shipped overseas, never to see his smiling face again.

You wondered if he dreamed about you too. You wondered if he was even the same person you remembered. It'd been over half a decade- a lot could change. You hoped he was still the same. You knew that was naive too.

You try to quit sulking and you finish getting ready for work. You clock in at 0800 and report for duty. You are surprised to find that your commanding officer has been waiting for you to arrive. She takes in the sight of you as if it's the last time she'll see you. Then she smiles. "Good morning Vice Captain."

You nod to her. "Cap'n. Mornin'. What're all the long looks for?"

Her weight shifts and she clears her throat. "Well, it seems the General has made an alliance with the Japan Anti-Kaiju Defense Force and as a show of good faith, he's sending one of our best soldiers to their side."

You raise an eyebrow. "The Director General himself? Who could be important enough from our team that he'd send so far across the seas?"

She coughs.

OH.

"Maybe, I don't know, the youngest female to make Vice Captain in the shortest amount of time? Maybe someone with, I don't know, Japanese background?"

Yup.

You can't decide if you're honored, nervous, scared, or excited. You haven't been back home in so long. Will it still be the same? The same restaurants, the same stores, the same people. Will they still be waiting for you?

"You fly out at 1200."

Your brows furrow. "You're giving me 4 hours to pack up all my things and say goodbye to everyone? That's ridiculous."

She nods sympathetically. "I know. But he wants to get this show on the road, it seems."

You sigh. "Alright. I'll head back to my place, please assemble the squad before I go so I can give everyone my best wishes."

You pack up your entire apartment in two hours. You have less things than you thought you did. You guess that some small subconscious part of you kept you from collecting too many things that would keep you grounded here. Maybe you always knew you'd return home.

It takes even less time to say bye to everyone. You're ready to ship out in just under three hours and the pilot shrugs, saying you're his only passenger anyway and he can afford to leave early. The Director General lent you his private plane after all.

You can't do anything about your nerves so you make the best of this trip, ordering lavish foods while you read. Your favorite book is one that Soshiro bought for you and the ink from the personal message he wrote on the inside of the front cover is so faded from you constantly rubbing your thumb over it nostalgically.

Soshiro. You'll be there soon.

You sleep through most of the flight. You dream about him again, to no one's surprise at this point.

This time you're both 17, you both snuck out of training together to attend a typical high school party. You were in agreement that the two of you wanted one normal high school experience before you both went off and joined the Defense Force and became stiff, disciplined officers. Of course, you'd tease Soshiro that you couldn't see him ever being stiff or disciplined.

Anyway, you'd been playing spin the bottle and Soshiro's spin landed on you and the both of you ended up in a closet together.

"Well this is a stupid game." He grumbled as he searched for the light to the closet. He would never make you do anything against your will and he found it ridiculous that that's exactly what this game was made for.

But you didn't find it ridiculous. You found it lucky. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest. You grabbed his hand before it reached the light switch and you kissed him in the dark.

He hesitated and then he kissed you back, gently pressing you up against the wall.

When someone knocked on the door seven minutes later, he locked the door and stayed in there with you until he was ready to leave. He must've known if the two of you stepped outside, you'd both go back to acting like nothing happened. Like you had plenty of time to figure out these messy feelings of yours. But neither of you could predict that you wouldn't even be in the same country as him a month later, so you both kept ducking the topic and pushing your feelings for each other down. And then it was too late.

Six years too late, you thought to yourself as your eyes fluttered open. The plane was descending. You were arriving in Japan as last.

You wondered who you'd be serving under and if Soshiro would be in the same platoon. The JAKDF had several divisions, it wasn't guaranteed that you'd even be in the same one as him. You'd been told that the position of Vice Captain had been recently opened at one of the Divisions and you were there to fill that spot. You'd do your best to fill the shoes of whoever came before you and make your team back in America proud.

As you step out of the plane you're greeted by your new teammates in the Third Division. Your eyes scan the crowd and they finally find the person they're looking for.

Your breath catches in your throat and you freeze on the last step of the plane.

He holds a hand out to you to help you down all the way.

"Welcome to the Third Division. I'm Captain Hoshina."

You take his hand and step down the last stair. You don't let go of his hand even when he's introducing you to the troops. You think this might be you dreaming about him again and you don't dare let go just in case.

He doesn't seem to mind. He keeps a firm grip on you and when you've finally greeted everyone he tells them he needs to discuss more matters with you privately.

The two of you enter his office and he closes the door behind him. Before you can speak, he's wrapped you up in a warm hug. "Vice Captain, huh? Impressive." He whispers, still holding you close.

You close your eyes and just soak in his voice. "Not as impressive as you- Captain Hoshina. And here I always thought I'd beat you to Captain when we were kids."

He chuckles and the familiar rumble of his laughter makes your heart skip several beats. He releases you from his arms so he can get a good look at you, but he still holds your hands tight in his. "I really never thought I'd see you again. And look at you now. Gorgeous as ever."

You blush. "Still cheeky I see."

He grins widely. "Still me. Always."

You're relieved. He doesn't seem to have changed at all, just gotten a little taller. And a little more... you gulp, a lot more muscular. You didn't realize it when he was holding you close because you were so focused on the way he smelled and the way he sounded. But now that you were getting a full view of him, you could see the efforts of his training peeking through his shirt. You blush deeper. Thank god he's a little dense and doesn't notice. He's just excited to see you again, he doesn't care if you're flushed or not.

"Hey- dinner on me later? We can go to that diner we liked." He nudges your arm.

You smile. "Yeah? I'm game, especially if you're buying."

He walks you to your room and then leaves you alone to unpack your things. You wish he wouldn't go but you know he has a division to run.

"Captain." You say to yourself, shaking your head. You hoped he would be in the same division as you, but you never could've imagined he'd be working this closely with you. You'll have to pay a visit to the shrine later and thank the gods.

You finish unpacking and you meet Soshiro for dinner in the cutest outfit you can find. You wonder if he'll notice.

He notices.

"So you don't wear the combat suit 24/7?" He teases.

You roll your eyes thinking he's not going to say anything else but then he looks away for a moment.

"You, um... you look real good."

You wonder where his confidence from earlier went. He can get away with calling you gorgeous but now here he is making the word "good" look difficult. You almost laugh.

He opens the door to the restaurant for you and then when you're led to a table, he pulls the chair out for you. You don't remember him being such a gentleman but he was still a teenager last time you saw him. It seems he has grown some after all.

As you eat dinner, you fall back into old rhythms- you steal food off of his plate and he does the same to yours. You even sword fight him with your chopsticks and he laughs the same familiar laugh that you love so much.

Then the drinks start to hit harder and the air seems to change between the two of you.

"So listen..." He starts, cautiously. He seems to get caught up in his own thoughts because he doesn't finish his sentence.

"I'm listening." You nudge him.

He gives you a small, pinched smile. "I don't know how to say this actually." He admits.

You wonder if he's thinking what you're thinking, but it's been so long you can't be sure. "You can say anything to me, you know that." You try to reassure him so that he continues.

He sighs. "Do you... remember going to a party? Back in high school?"

Ah. So he is thinking the same thing as you. You nod slowly.

He clears his throat uncomfortably. "Do you... remember what happened at that... party?"

You nod again, your cheeks starting to heat up at the thought of that mind-blowing kiss.

"It's just... we never... we never talked about it. And then you were just gone- just like that. And I know it's stupid to be bringing it up again so many years later, but you're the exact same as you've always been and I'm the same as I've always been and I just thought..." He trails off.

"You just thought...?" You lean in, hoping to god he finishes his sentence.

"I just thought... maybe now we could... talk about it? If-if you wanted."

"Okay, what do you have to say about it?"

He laughs at that. "Boy, you really don't make this easy do you? You never have."

"Sorry. I'll go first then, okay?"

He nods and waits for you to speak.

"I regretted it for six years."

He winces.

You backtrack. "Wait, sorry that's not how it was supposed to come out. Now you're making this hard."

You both laugh. Then he takes your hand.

"I think what you meant to say was you regretted leaving it the way we did?"

You nod. You're glad he's still able to understand you so well even after all these years.

"I do too. I thought, god, if I could just get one chance to tell her how I felt I'd do it. And now you're here and I'm stumbling over my words. But I need to say this. Because I can't wait another six years for you to find out that I love you. Because I love you. Always did, and still do."

You start to cry before you even realize it's happening. He immediately rushes over to your side of the table to brush the tears away.

"Hey, hey, did I say something wrong? Tell me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

You can't figure out how to put the words together properly so you kiss him. He kisses you back more intensely than he did back then and you wish you can just freeze time so he can keep kissing you like this. Then he pulls away.

"You know, love, I like the way you're thinking but you still haven't given me an official answer."

You laugh. "I love you too- I should think it was obvious."

"Some of us only have half the brain that you do and need verbal confirmation."

"You got that right." You tease.

He wraps you up tight in his arms.

"So does this make us boyfriend-girlfriend?" He asks in his best "high schooler" voice, grinning like an idiot from ear to ear.

You roll your eyes. "Take me to the prom and we'll see about that."

He laughs. "Just let me date you already damnit."

You kiss him again.

"Was that a yes?"

You nod.

"Okay, again, I'm just checking."

[ghoulangerlee]

if it was a sin, but i'd feel whole, would you still take control? ; mountain/aether ; E

god here it is y'all. this took so many days haha. I have read over this and fixed as many of the errors as I found but if you see anymore, just let me know! I had to take a benedryl today bc of food allergies and ive been feeling it since then, ha. the hat man has been my bff while writing this bc i keep seeing him whenever i stare too long at the screen 😂

title comes from move it or lose it by the home team :)

You can in fact read this one on AO3 here if you'd prefer :')

this was supposed to be quick and dirty based on the small dick mountain and aether post I made but it developed a life of its own and seven thousand words later here we are! I hope you enjoy!

contains: ghoul ruts, possessive behaviors (minor), trans aether (cock and knot are used for him), knotting, resolved sexual tension, oral knotting, fingering, biting, overstimulation and oral sex!

------

There’s a knock at his door—its late, and while it’s not uncommon, it does throw Aether in for a bit of a loop. He’s been off duty now for about eight hours, retired to his quarters for the foreseeable future (until band practice in two days time, they’re leaving to finish off some final shows soon, he and the other new ghouls summoned to replace Papa Emeritus the Third’s previous ones, he’s a bit fuzzy on most of the details surrounding it all.)  

There’s another knock, this time more hurried and the scratch of something against wood—bone maybe, rough and grating and Aether frowns as he slinks from his place in bed. “I’m coming!” he calls out, and the scratching stops suddenly.  

He's only mildly concerned as he approaches the door, magic building under his fingertips just in case, but when he opens it, it’s just Mountain, the new earth ghoul, a grimace on his face and fingers gripping tightly at the door frame.  

“Are you—” Aether starts, but cuts himself off when Mountain pitches forward all of a sudden and the thick scent of rut hits him like a ton of bricks.  

He catches him, though just barely, arms coming up to gather the earth ghoul close to his chest—Mountain is mostly glamoured now, though Aether knows he won’t be for much longer, and makes a slightly impulsive decision to drag the ghoul into his room, grunting under the almost dead weight.  

“Satan above,” Aether swears, mostly under his breath as he steadies his center and heaves Mountain half onto his shoulder, strong or not, all of the earth ghoul’s dead weight settling makes it hard to move him around—but eventually, he makes it over to the couch, lowering him down onto the cushions before focusing on getting Mountain’s legs up and over the arm of it, a mimicry of comfort, but Aether’s more hesitant to allow a ghoul he barely knows into his nest.  

Even now, he glances over at his messily made bed, the piles of blankets and pillows on it arranged specifically, a sort of protective feeling wells up in him that he tries to ignore.  

A low groan pulls him from his thoughts and almost immediately he looks over to Mountain who looks mostly uncomfortable on the couch, eyes barely open as he looks at Aether.  

There’s something akin to hunger in his gaze, but he chooses to ignore it.  

“First rut topside, huh?” Aether asks out loud, putting some distance between himself and Mountain, “Is this part of your cycle or unplanned?”  

He prides himself for the way his voice doesn’t betray anything, from first meeting he and Mountain had hit it off pretty well, there was intrigue there, as the earth ghoul had watched him oh so carefully, as if curious about him. There has been some probing questions, quiet discussions after practice, mostly about magic and teetering on the edge of life and death.  

Aether doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s interested in what happens during an earth ghoul’s rut—being quintessence, he barely has anything of a cycle, and when it does happen, there isn’t much in the way of anything except pain and annoyance. Nothing too fun about it for him unless there was a partner involved—and most often, there hadn’t been.  

As he waits for Mountain to answer, he heads into the little kitchenette to get some water, it’s late so he suspects that Mountain has at least eaten at some point today, trying to remember the things that Omega had told him about what to expect when one of his packmates goes into rut or heat.  

(After all, quintessence ghouls are the equilibrium of the pack.) 

“’m not due for a rut until the winter,” Mountain finally manages to answer, his voice caught somewhere between his glamoured, more human voice and the one that Aether had heard when he was first summoned, all bass and full of static.  

It makes his teeth ache and his ears ring, but he turns with a smile, something small and gentle, he knows that any unexpected change of emotions could send Mountain spiraling, so he regulates, brings a bottle of water back over to the couch and lowers himself to sit on the edge of the low coffee table across from Mountain.  

“Early then,” Aether says, pausing somewhat awkwardly as he watches Mountain take the bottle from him and bite the cap off, guzzling down easily half of it with little thought, “Is there anything specific you need?” he asks, keeping his tone light, clinical, hoping he comes across more concerned than just curious.  

Mountain grumbles something, squeezes the water bottle in his hand once he’s downed the rest of it, drops of it soaking into the collar of his t-shirt, he drops the crumpled plastic to the floor and stretches his limbs, glamour melting away until all that’s left is a nearly eight foot ghoul stretched across Aether’s couch.  

His antlers curl from his hair, spanning more than the width of the couch, and Mountain makes a pained sound in his throat—t-shirt rucked up his torso, soaked in sweat.  

The noise digs deep into Aether’s core, and he feels the hair on his arms stand, he’s watching, curious—Mountain still hadn’t answered his question, the what do you need hanging heavily between them and the more the silence stretches, the more time Aether has to overthink it, to wonder if he'd propositioned a ghoul in a rut.  

He leans forward and grabs the crumpled bottle from the floor, stands and heads off to the kitchen to give himself something to do while he waits, he takes a few moments, grabs another water from the refrigerator.  

Just as the door closes with a soft squeak, there’s a groan from the couch and the sound of the wooden frame creaking under the weight of the nearly eight foot tall ghoul on it, “I need to...” Mountain begins, his throat dry, voice cracking as he speaks, and he stops with a groan, pressing his fist to his abdomen, “...need to knot something,” he mumbles, half out of it, “Hurts a lot.” 

Aether exhales and turns around, water in hand, “Is there someone you could go to?” he asks, and then frowns a little, “Or, someone I could bring here? I could find somewhere to go for the night.”  The idea of leaving his room and his nest alone during another ghoul’s rut leaves a bad taste in his mouth, he doesn’t want to do that, but it feels somewhat significant that Mountain had come to him of all people.  

Mountain shifts on the couch again, onto his side, at least the best that he can at his height and width, watching Aether with heavy eyes, he makes a pained sort of sound, presses his fist harder against his abdomen, “I — uh, I don’t know who else could...” he trails off, grits his teeth as if getting the words out were some gargantuan task, “I am...different, and anytime I try to take on a mate they...” his face screws up into something ugly then, “I’ve never shared my rut with anyone else.”  

The air leaves Aether in a rush and his grip tightens on the water bottle in his hand, “Oh,” he says, something like interest building in the back of his mind as he passes the sweating bottle to his other hand, “That’s...I thought that was just something that most quintessence ghouls do,” he says, trying for a light tone, but Mountain must sense something there, because his nostrils flare, eyes narrowing.  

“Quintessence ghouls don’t...experience that?” Mountain asks, tilting his head just barely, his antler scraping against the stone floor as he does so, “Heat, rut...” he trails off, hisses in pain as another wave of something overtakes him. “Like other ghouls?”  

Aether crosses the room again, though the whole time he feels like prey, under the watchful eyes of Mountain, who seems to be mostly trying to puzzle him out between bouts of painful cramps and he holds the water out to Mountain who takes it with barely a brush of fingertips, “Quintessence ghouls don’t have to have mates,” he says carefully, “We can sort of...produce heirs without them. Our heat and rut cycles are nearly nonexistent because of that, so we end up coupling for pleasure more than a biological need, I guess. My last cycle was several millennia ago.”  

It feels clinical, explaining this to Mountain, while Mountain’s in his own rut, but Aether had always been good with compartmentalizing, with not being affected by these things, “Of course, I don’t mind keeping you company, talking things out, but we should really try to come to some sort of ah resolution for your situation. I can sort of...” he trails off, waving his hand as if to indicate brushing something away, “get rid of my own issues, but I think it's better if you uh earth ghouls consummate the rut or heat, right?”  

Mountain snorts, a great sound that ruffles the pages of a magazine on the coffee table, “Sure, yeah, consummate is the word for it,” he opens the bottle of water properly this time, though the cap is easily crushed between his fingers as he does so before he’s gulping it down like he was starving for it, water dripping from the corner of his lip and down onto the couch.  

“Is there someone you had in mind?” Aether asks, unsure why he feels like he has to keep pushing this, there’s something in the back of his mind, nagging him, telling him to call one of the other pack members, another earth ghoul, someone else before this becomes something well beyond his control.  

Mountain is silent then, crushes the bottle in his hand and drops it to the floor, his eyes trained on Aether’s face for a long time before he lets his gaze trail down the quintessence ghoul’s body, “Are you offering?” he asks plainly, fangs heavy in his mouth.  

Floored, Aether takes a step back, catches his leg against the corner of the coffee table but otherwise stays upright, “Me?” he asks, voice strained. “I uh.” He doesn’t know what to say or how to answer the question—unconsciously maybe he had been offering something, but putting a word to that out loud felt scary and big.  

“Historically I’ve never been good with sharing a rut or heat with someone,” Aether says, trying to aim for calm, but his voice cracks a little, there’s a warmth inside him, an interest that he’s sure Mountain can scent on him.  

A low rumble echoes through the room, full of bass, a small and sly sort of smile tugging at the corners of Mountain’s mouth, “Historically I’ve never shared my rut with anyone,” he says, there’s an ounce of suggestion in his voice, but underneath that, there’s hesitation too, a brief flash of worry in his gaze before it evens out into something heated once again.  

And Aether, he’s never been too good when it came to self-preservation—the reason he dove head first into the first summoning circle that opened up was due to lack of exactly that, so knowing this, he sighs and comes to sit on the edge of the coffee table again, “We’re going to have to talk first,” he says, “Just because,” he pauses and looks at Mountain, takes in his height, the bulk of him and presses his own legs together.  

He’s getting wet now, of course he is, the prospect of strengthening pack bonds, of having sex for the first time since being summoned fills him with a heat—Mountain isn’t too terrible to look at, a capable lover, from where Aether’s sitting, but there’s just. A bit of an issue with all of this. One that he’s hoping won’t be a dealbreaker once he mentions it.  

Mountain makes some kind of noise, it sounds mostly tortured and a tiny bit playful, but he manages to get his hands under himself and heaves upwards so he’s sitting on the couch instead of laying.  

His shirt is soaked in sweat and there’s some beaded at his temples, his face a bit of a pale gray rather than the warmer tone that Aether’s used to seeing, but he looks alert, his eyes clear as he looks at Aether, as he takes this seriously, “I’m listening,” he says, hunching a bit on himself, arm curled around his abdomen carefully, “This is important to you and I have a little bit longer before I get too stupid with my rut,” he says with a bit of a wince.  

Aether bites at his lower lip, nodding his head, “Of course,” he says, “You are...very big,” the words come out before he can think it through, eyes trained on the width of Mountain’s shoulders, now that he’s sitting up almost properly. “And, I’m only going to assume that other parts of you are ah, proportionate.” he flushes, folds his hands in his lap—there's something in Mountain’s gaze that almost makes him pause, but he pushes on, “Sometimes, it takes a lot for me to enjoy penetration, and in the past that has caused partners to not want to pursue that with me. And since you’re in your rut, I didn’t want us to fall into bed and things not be enjoyable for you.”  

Mountain’s quiet then, he’s quiet for so long that Aether almost backtracks again, tries to think of something to say instead, to fill the silence because the way Mountain’s looking at him is unnerving.  

“Well,” Mountain finally says, tilting his head a little bit, “If we’re being honest about things, the reason I’ve never been able to find a mate is because of me lacking in the parts that matter during a rut.”  

There’s a curiosity there, simmering under his skin, at the lacking that he mentions, his eyes falling down to Mountain’s lap almost unconsciously—his breath catching at the utter lack of any hint of his arousal.  

And he is aroused, that is. Aether can smell it thick in the air, a temptation—like a cold morning in the forest, stealing the breath from his lungs as he breathes in.  

Mountain clears his throat and Aether’s gaze snaps back up to his face, behind the bravado and the heat there’s something like insecurity in his gaze, “So, do you think it’ll be okay?” he asks, a sort of downturn to his lips as she speaks.  

Aether stands then, clears his throat and dabs at the sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat, “I think we’ll make it work,” he says, and then he puts space between them, even as Mountain makes a desperate noise in his throat.  

There’s shuffling behind him, the sound of the couch groaning, but Aether pushes through to his task, collecting more water and some snacks—easy things to feed Mountain once the rut burns through him, “The bathroom is through the door over there,” he says, motioning towards the opposite side of the room, “If this is the last chance you have until you’re too stupid with rut, I need you to go in there and shower first. You reek of the ghoul dens and I won’t have that scent stuck to my nest.” He says matter of fact.  

Mountain slowly rises from the couch, lumbers across the room to the bathroom, glancing back at Aether every so often as something warm settles in his stomach, and when he disappears into the room, he leaves the door open just a bit.  

Aether exhales when he hears the shower turn on, thankful that the ghoul rooms are large enough to accommodate an unglamoured ghoul, and for a brief reprieve from Mountain’s scent—though it sticks heavily in his nostrils.  

He carries his supplies over to his nest, picking and pulling at some of the blankets, rearranging things to make more sense for a coupling, humming quietly to himself as he works. It's not often he has to change things around for a bed partner, not often he has anyone in his best, even before he was summoned, and the small part of his brain that frets over the structure wonders if Mountain will be pleased enough with it when it’s all said and done.  

The water shuts off, and Aether opens the window by his bed to let in some of the cool night air, there are nerves building in the pit of his belly, but he pushes through and undresses most of the way, down to his underwear and debating if he should remove his shirt too before he hears the bathroom door creak, the sound of heavy footfalls following.  

When Aether turns, his breath catches—Mountain’s standing across the room, water droplets pebbled on his chest, a white towel knotted around his waist though it barely holds, his entire hip and thigh visible where the towel won’t quite meet.  

“Didn’t think it would be a good idea to put my clothes back on,” Mountain says, a flush arcing across his cheeks, “I uh used that neutral soap you have, maybe I don’t smell bad anymore?” 

He asks it so earnestly, so shy, that Aether crosses the room and reaches out, careful fingertips brushing over Mountain’s arms, feeling the rut and shower warmed skin, the thick muscle just under it bunch under his touch, fingertips roaming downwards until he’s lacing his fingers through Mountain’s, tugging him closer, a shuffle of a dance as he walks them backwards towards his nest.  

Mountain's eyes widen, his mouth opens a bit, fingers spasming around Aether’s as his eyes fall to the nest, his nostrils flaring at the heavy scent of Aether, of pack emanating from the bed.  

“Are you sure…?” he asks, his voice low, garbled, lust and rut rushing to his head as he looks between the nest and Aether, the careful branch of trust the quintessence ghoul is offering him.  

Vulnerability.  

Aether hums, dropping one of Mountain’s hands as he steps back again, using his now free hand to steady himself on the foot of the bed as he climbs up onto it backwards, knee walking across the sheets, pulling Mountain closer and closer and closer until the earth ghoul is standing at the foot of the bed, bare knees pressed against the mattress.  

“Are you sure?” Mountain asks, barely above a whisper, his throat clicking loudly as he swallows, “We haven’t even kissed—” he pauses, flushing at his words. “We can go back to the couch, if you’d rather, I don’t want to…” taint your nest, is left unsaid.  

Aether smiles at him, tugs a bit harder on Mountain’s hand, “This is me inviting you into my nest,” he says softly as he sinks back on his heels, legs spreading a bit more.  

Mountain’s gaze is drawn to the splay of them, the way his thighs stretch and dimple just below the hem of his underwear, he’s wearing briefs, a dark fuchsia color—heat tugging sharp and pointed in his belly when he sees a damp spot, the slight bulge of his cock pressing into the material.  

“Oh,” Mountain said, somewhat dumbly, as he finally climbs up onto the bed, folding his long limbs under him so he can sit properly, “I can uh, you know,” he feels nervous, even as the heat courses through him, a voice insistently whispering for him to take, mate, take. “I can glamour again, I think, if this is too weird,” he mumbles, sharpened teeth digging into his bottom lip as he looks down at Aether, even kneeling, still so much taller. “I know it can be a lot.”  

With a soft laugh, Aether brings Mountain’s hand up to his mouth, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it, “Not too big for me, big guy,” he murmurs, feeling coy all of a sudden, glancing up at him from under his lashes as shadows darken the room, seeping closer to the bed like a mighty dog, “I like you like this,” he promises, his form flickering for a moment, like an illusion.  

The air in the room goes colder, prickling against Mountain’s hot skin and he shudders, watches the illusion flicker out of existence as Aether sits, now unglamoured, in front of him.  

He's bigger too, wider, medium downy fur covering his arms and legs, the contrast of his gray skin making the cyan of his fur seem colder, his eyes solid black now with a constellation of stars floating in the void of it.  

“You can touch me,” Aether whispers, his voice sweet sounding now, filling the air in a way that feels almost like a kiss of death, and Mountain takes a loud and long shuddering breath.  

He shifts closer until his knees press into Aether’s, ducking his head down to scent just behind one of Aether’s ears, the soft fur covering them dragging sweetly across his cheek—it twitches, Aether exhaling his own sound as arousal flares up between them and tips his head to the side, allowing Mountain more.  

Though his hands shake, Mountain presses them to Aether’s chest, his skin cold to the touch in a way that makes him whine despite Aether wearing a shirt still.  

“Always takes a minute to get used to it,” Aether murmurs, rubbing his palm over Mountain’s forearm, soothing, “Glamour doesn’t just keep me looking human,” he teases on the end of a sigh, as Mountain finally noses his way downward, scenting just under his chin now, lips brushing over skin.  

“Smell so good,” Mountain mumbles, inhaling deeply, he wants to crawl inside Aether and settle down there, curl up in his scent and luxuriate in it until they become one. 

The fire beneath his skin burns with a fury, and his fingers curl in Aether’s shirt, tugging at it, “Off,” he manages to say, and together, they wrestle the t-shirt over his head and into the nest somewhere before Mountain’s hands find their place on Aether’s waist, digging his fingertips into the small of his back with a sort of animalistic sound, he crowds forward until Aether falls back into the nest with a soft laugh.  

Aether’s hands find Mountain’s hair, fingertips cold and nimble as he seeks out the base of his antlers—the sound falling from Mountain’s mouth a fury of low bass and static that makes Aether ache.  

“Need,” Mountain murmurs, crouched over him, one leg between Aether’s own, straddling one of his thighs, “Should tell me now what you like cause I’m not gonna be coherent for much longer,” he continues, mouthing where Aether’s fur fades into skin.  

A laugh, soft, even as Aether scrapes his nails against the seam where Mountain’s antlers grow from his skull, relishing in the sort of guttural sound that the earth ghoul makes, the way Mountain’s thighs flex around his own, “I like a lot of things, slow and not too deep, fast and rough—a good mate that’ll take care of me knows what I need when he’s got me under him, hm? I know this is your rut, but it’s really not about that, is it? You want to take care of someone.” he murmurs.  

Mountain makes a pained noise again, shifts a bit so he can rut against Aether’s thigh, “I’ll take good care of you,” he murmurs, a litany of promises falling from his lips as he tries to get friction against his own cock. “Please, let me show you, let me take care of you.” he whispers, nearly begs, as Aether’s fingertips continue to trace gentle circles around the base of his antlers—highly erogenous, “Please baby, please,” he finally breaks, begs, turning his head and pressing his face into Aether’s throat. “Want to take care of you. Show you I can be a good mate.”  

Aether stays silent for a moment, feels Mountain shake against him for a bit before dragging a finger up along the shaft of his left antler, “Show me,” he whispers as his other hand goes down between them, tugging at the knotted end of the towel and Mountain makes a great noise in his throat, the sound loud and unyielding as he reaches down in between them and shreds at the towel, yanking it away from his body and tossing it in a messy heap on the floor.  

Mountain shifts above him, warm where he’s straddling Aether’s thigh, the prickly fur decorating the insides of them mixing roughly in his and Aether doesn’t much look as he does reach between them, seeking out where Mountain’s hard and waiting, fingers wrapping around his shaft and—oh.  

Oh.  

He has to look then; he nudges Mountain back though the earth ghoul whines about it, but Aether shushes him, murmurs something about wanting to see him, though his mind is steadily focused on how small he feels against his palm.  

Aether lets out a shuddering breath when he finally sees Mountain, the ruddy head of his cock peeking just barely over the top of his fist, his hand closing around it so easily—a good maybe four inches fully erect—and he must stay silent for too long, because Mountain shifts uncomfortably, makes a sort of worried noise.  

“I know it’s—” Mountain starts, then stops, pouts a little, he doesn’t go soft though, not with the way Aether’s holding him, gripping him tight enough to give him pressure, his hand moving the tiniest bit as he breathes. “Aether?”  

There’s an edge to his voice, a bit of sourness to his scent and Aether’s quick to snap out of it, squeezes Mountain with intent this time as he whispers, “You’re perfect,” already feeling out of breath just from looking at him. “You’re going to take such good care of me, Mountain, gonna feel so good inside me,” he murmurs. “D’you have a knot?” he mumbles, hushed, in awe.  

Mountain makes a sort of embarrassed noise, his chest flushing as he tries to hide his face in Aether’s hair, “I do,” he mumbles, “Not very big though, probably won’t catch without some help.”  

Aether makes a pleased sound, a low rumble of a purr deep in his chest as he nudges his face under Mountain’s chin, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against his skin, “Gonna catch just fine,” he mumbles, feeling dazed as he strokes Mountain from base to tip, curling the palm of his hand over the head of Mountain’s dick. “You’re so perfect. The perfect size.” 

He bucks into his touch, hips jackrabbiting forward into Aether’s hand, “Satan,” he mumbles like a swear, mouth falling open—his hips move on their own volition, and all Mountain can do is making helpless little noises, fucking into the pressure around his cock over and over and over until he’s coming, shaking through it with Aether’s name on his tongue as he comes in spurts over Aether’s fist, getting the two of them messy.  

“Oh, oh,” Aether says, awed, “Felt good?” he murmurs, still stroking Mountain, feeling the beginnings of his knot, thickening at the base, “Look at the mess you made, baby,” he murmurs after a bit, pulling his hand away, sticky with Mountain’s spend, “I bet you have so much more to give though, don’t you?” he asks softly, hopeful.  

Mountain makes a soft noise, panting heavily as he turns his head to bury his face into Aether’s hair, “Wanna give you everything,” he mumbles, pawing at Aether’s sides, feeling the give of his waist under his touch, “Let me touch you now, taste you, please Aether.”  

Aether makes a soothing sort of noise, buries his clean hand in Mountain’s hair, “You’re already doing so well for me,” he murmurs sweetly, pressing his thumb against the base of an antler again, “Want that pretty mouth on my dick, baby,” he coos, smiling when Mountain makes a pained noise. “Go on, big guy,” he urges, lets his hand fall from Mountain’s hair finally as he settles properly on the bed, hooking his thumb in the waist of his briefs, pushing them down over one hip.  

Mountain pulls back, watches as Aether slowly reveals more of himself, there’s a constellation of navy, almost black patches of fur over his groin that he wants to follow with his mouth, so he shifts, shuffling backwards until he’s properly kneeling in between his thighs.  

“So pretty,” Mountain rumbles lowly, and, with a lot more grace and care than one would expect of a ghoul during a rut, he buries his face among the navy fur, inhaling the scent of Aether’s sweat and arousal, mouthing at each inch of skin revealed until he feels mad with it all, claws careful as he grabs at the other side of Aether’s briefs, pulling them down—easily getting them off as Aether lifts his hips in encouragement.  

One hand grabs at Mountain’s antlers and the earth ghoul makes a happy sort of noise, letting Aether direct him exactly where he wants—to his cock, pink and wet, hard and flushed with his arousal, soaking in the pleased, happy sound Aether lets out the moment Mountain’s mouth closes around it.  

“Yes,” Aether hisses out, bucking up into Mountain’s mouth—grinding into his face with a pleased sound, “Just like that, big guy. Feels so good, just like I knew it would. Got such a pretty mouth.”  

Mountain whines, closes his eyes and sinks into it, the praise falling from Aether’s lips washes over him until he’s feeling a bit dumb with it, his face a mess of slick and spit as Aether keeps grinding into him, fucking his mouth with sharp, pointed thrusts—each time he goes to pull out, Mountain makes a wounded noise and tries to shove his face in close again, trying to take in more—almost as if he were in heat and not rut, wanting, craving to feel the way Aether’s knot swells in his mouth.  

“So eager,” Aether murmurs, but it doesn’t sound mean, doesn’t sound exasperated like some of Mountain’s previous partners, it’s fond and bookended with a sweet little sigh as Aether tosses one of his legs over Mountain’s shoulder, allowing him to get closer.  

Happiness and contentedness radiates off of Aether, one hand cupping the back of his head while the other keeps him exactly where he wants him with a firm grip on an antler, “I want you to make me come,” he says, breathless, pressing his head back into the pillow under him as he rocks up into Mountain’s mouth, “Make me come and then you can get me ready to take your knot, baby.”  

Mountain makes another noise, something eager, as he grips Aether’s thigh in one hand, pushes it back towards his chest as he sinks his mouth further down on Aether’s cock, his face messy and slick as he buries as close as he can, tonguing at the beginnings of his knot, already starting to firm up in his mouth.  

He makes a happy noise, uses his weight to keep Aether in place as he sucks him off, feeling Aether’s thigh tremble in his grip—he makes a curious noise, sinks his other hand in between them, nudging a couple of knuckles against where Aether’s wet and warm. 

Aether swears, toes curling as he nods against the pillow several times, words taking a moment to form as he tries to rock down against Mountain’s other hand while simultaneously grinding into his mouth—he can’t though, not with the way Mountain’s holding him there, leg pressed up to his chest, keeping him open.  

“Please,” Aether finally manages to get out, tugs a bit harshly at Mountain’s hair, “Fingers, yes,” he breathes out, “Put one in me, baby, let me feel it. I’m so close.”  

He complies, presses one finger into Aether slowly, feels the way he goes tight around him, hot and slick like he’s in heat—something that makes Mountain’s mouth water a bit, drags him deeper into his rut, imagining spending a heat with Aether, satiating the quintessence ghoul in the same way Aether’s satiating him now.  

“That’s it,” Aether says, his voice going low, a moan catching in his throat as Mountain’s lips tighten around his cock, a wet heat that makes his knot thicken, he can feel it growing just inside the earth ghoul’s mouth, the pressure in his belly building as a slender finger works its way inside of him, pressing into his walls, testing, undulating, fucking into him with such care that Aether can’t help the way tears gather at the corners of his eyes, at the sweetness that Mountain’s showing him despite being in a rut.  

It goes on like this, for several, long minutes, minutes that feel like they stretch into hours and Aether feels so wrung out and loose by the time he’s shaking through his own orgasm, that he feels like Mountain could just slide into him without actually prepping him—a thought that seems to prolong his orgasm to the point that he’s kicking at Mountain, shoving him away bodily as he curls in on himself, turning onto his side and panting into the pillow, shivering.  

Mountain makes a sort of wounded noise, worry cloying his scent as he crowds up against Aether’s back, careful not to touch him too much, but still wanting to be close, nosing at the nape of his neck as he waits for Aether to calm down a bit, for him to stop shaking—and it doesn’t seem to take that long, but there’s a heat bubbling just beneath Mountain’s skin that makes time different, that makes his mind a little different, his eyes drooping a bit as he scents at Aether, trying to determine if he’s alright.  

Aether’s hand eventually reaches back and he drags Mountain in, closer to him, curling under the heaviness of his arm—their scents mingling together as he noses at Mountain’s knuckles, breathing still a bit choppy and uneven, aftershocks making his toes curl and uncurl. “Seven Hells,” he finally mumbles, feeling Mountain’s rumbling laughter vibrating deep in his chest, “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard,” he admits quietly.  

“Told you,” Mountain mumbles, deep and mostly inhuman now, “Wanna give you everything,” he punctuates the statement by grinding his hips forward against Aether—the hard line of his cock nudging at the back of his thigh, “Everything,” he repeats, the word catching in a whine at the end. “Let me, please.”  

Aether shushes him, pets over his forearm, “Think you can do it like this, baby?” he asks, “I’m feeling a little boneless right now, comfortable,” he murmurs with a purr, “A couple fingers and then you can fuck me, okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Mountain’s knuckles.  

It takes a moment for Mountain to catch up, but he makes an excited noise—and Aether mourns the loss of the arm curling around him disappearing, but is mostly okay with it when Mountain slides his other arm under Aether’s head, cradling him like he’s something precious as he carefully presses one finger into him.  

Aether moans, arching back into it, eyes fluttering closed as Mountain seems to take his time with this, letting him get used to it—fucking his finger in and out of him a few times until Aether’s whining, turning his face into Mountain’s arm and asking for the other one, a pleased gasp leaving his mouth when he complies, presses two fingers into him, slow and careful, his body opening up around them so easily.  

He thinks, somewhat dumbly, that if Mountain were to pull out and fuck into him now then he’d be happy, he’d be content, but instead, Mountain seems laser focused on fingering him, curling and pressing them over and over until Aether’s shifted a leg further out, giving him more space and Mountain’s thumb grazing over his cock once more, where he’s starting to get hard again.  

He’s sore in the best ways and it feels like hours, before Mountain nuzzles behind his ear and makes a curious noise, unable to get the words out proper, but Aether knows, he knows and he nods, reaching behind him to find Mountain’s cock, wrap his fingers around him and stroke him a few times, he’s hot and hard and so perfect—almost like he was made just for Aether.  

“Come on, big guy,” Aether murmurs, giving him one last squeeze before he lets go, bends his knee and lays mostly on his stomach, giving Mountain a good view of everything, of how wet and pink he is, where his fingers sink into Aether with such an ease, “S’yours to take now, baby.” 

Mountain makes a noise, something animalistic, growling as he pulls his fingers out and settles over Aether, pressing his face into the side of his neck as he reaches down to guide himself closer, to press into Aether—and they both moan, nearly shout as Mountain’s cock sinks inside, as his hips settle so quickly against Aether’s ass.  

“Fuck,” Aether says in a wheeze, clawing at the bed sheets under him, “Mountain, please, you can move, you can move baby.”  

It takes very little encouragement from there—the rut and their mingling scents going straight to Mountain’s head as he sets a brutal pace, fucking into Aether as if his own life depended on it, and at this point, maybe it did, maybe there was no Mountain without Aether; maybe after this he could no longer exist without having a taste of this regularly, of having Aether under him, moaning loudly into a pillow, trying and failing to fuck himself back onto his cock each time Mountain pulls out. 

He’s so used to seeing Aether so well put together that seeing him like this, seeing him give into his baser instincts and let himself be fucked makes Mountain want to keep him here, to have him as a proper mate so he can be the one that gets to see this, so he can be the one who satiates all of Aether’s needs.  

Mountain’s teeth sink into the back of Aether’s neck and the quintessence ghoul goes limp underneath him with a moan, he thinks Aether says his name, slurs it out as he clenches down around him tightly, his voice going a bit pitchy as he shouts—coming again so suddenly that it has to hurt, but Aether’s scent stays pleased, stays happy and content and doesn’t get sour so he keeps going, keeps fucking into him, growling lowly as he feels his own end hurtling close, his knot thickening and catching with each gyration of his hips.  

When it does finally catch, when time is syrupy and thick in his head and Aether’s voice suddenly breaks and he squirms under Mountain, knot locking them together, he can’t help himself, it takes only a few more humps of his hips and he’s coming in thick ropes, filling Aether, filling his mate.  

Aether makes a soft noise, his face flushed and his eyes wet as he grinds his hips back, he’s overstimulated and everything feels both like it’s too much and not enough at the same time, he tries to ask for something, for Mountain to continue moving for anything, but he can’t get the words to come out—but then a hand, careful fingers close around his cock, around his knot and squeeze and Aether cries out again, spasming around Mountain as he comes one last time, the pressure around his knot making him light headed.  

Mountain snuffles and carefully loosens his grip on the back of Aether’s neck, presses his lips there in a sweet kiss, the coppery scent of blood making him whine a little, but there’s no distress coming from his mate under him, the two of them reeking of contentment and each other—so he doesn’t move, not until his knot and Aether’s both deflate and then he carefully pulls his hand away, shushing the quintessence ghoul when he makes a noise of discomfort.  

His rut has settled for now, and as he shifts his hips back, pulling out carefully, he immediately pulls Aether into his arms, uncaring of the mess of sweat, come and slick between them—he always goes a bit quiet after a rut, used to being alone, but he tries, for the sake of his partner, nosing his way into Aether’s hair to breathe him in for a moment as he tries to find words.  

“Need something?” he manages after a few minutes, cracking his eyes open and spying the water that Aether had put by the bed before everything. “Thirsty?” he asks, but doesn’t wait—rolling the two of them closer to the other side of the bed, grabbing one of the bottles and trying to tear the lid off.  

“Easy there, big guy,” Aether says, his voice is wrecked but he sounds happy, and an arm, though it seems to take great concentration to move, reaches out and takes the water from him, uncapping it with a bit of a struggle. 

Mountain’s there, though, steadying his arm and helping Aether sit up just enough so he can drink from the bottle—and then he’s pressing the bottle to Mountain’s lips, encouraging him to drink.  

The nest is sort of a mess under them, but Mountain doesn’t think that matters much right now, not when he shuffles them away from most of the mess and curls around Aether again—Aether who’s looking a bit less out of it, his eyes soft as he stares up at Mountain.  

“You know,” he mumbles with a little grin, after they’ve both drank more water and Aether’s wrestled a clean blanket over their bodies, “We never actually kissed first,” he says with a little laugh. “Did this whole thing backwards.”  

Mountain stares down at him for a moment, his mind a bit fuzzy—his rut isn’t quite over yet, but he thinks that maybe in a day or two, he’ll freak out about how comfortable he feels, and the lack of shame he has when openly thinking about how he wants to woo Aether, about the way he cups Aether’s face gently in one hand and presses their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss.  

It doesn’t turn into something heavy; it stays sweet and when it comes to a natural end, Aether’s smiling, “Oh,” he says with a little laugh, “I didn’t realize you felt that way, big guy.” 

There’s a flush high on his cheeks, but there’s nothing Mountain can do to hide the feelings of contentment and something else that’s pumping through the bond he has with Aether—they're pack but it all feels like so much more, but Aether doesn’t push, just pulls him into another kiss, brief and light.  

“You’ve been so good to me,” Aether whispers against his mouth, “So perfect for me, Mountain. Like a good mate, knew exactly what I needed, baby.”  

He whines, mildly embarrassed by the broadcast of his emotions, half expects to be teased, but it never comes, and instead they kiss again, for longer this time and all Mountain can taste is happiness in Aether’s smile.  

[halucynator]

Hi Lucy hope you’re days going well! I had a fic ide for Mattheo x best friend fem! Reader where it’s been a stressful week but it’s Friday night, raining in Hogwarts and they’re hanging out watching IT (Mattheo convinced her) after class and she’s a gryffindor and acts like she’s not scared but when it’s night time she’s afraid to fall asleep because of the movie and she ends up going to his dorm and he confesses he likes her and she sleeps with him?(maybe a longer FIC?)

I love your work so much!

Big mistake.

Decided to combine these two x

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader (they are bff's BC bff to lovers is the second best trope to ever exist. Nothing beats e2l imo but that's beside the point.)

Warnings: mentions of violent imagery ig?, cuddling, mentions of intercourse, kissing, not proof read lmk if I missed any.

Summary: you and your friends decide to watch a horror movie. Unfortunately for you, you still wonder what lingers under your bed.

Sorry this took me so long! I was preparing for my Uni which starts in a couple days so I'm super sorry for the wait! Hope you like it x

I watched IT when I was 6 because my parents were watching it on the big TV in the same room as me and I thought it'd be a cute movie but it was... Bad to say the least. I have been traumatised ever since 🥰

reblogs (with tags) are always appreciated!! It is so much help!!

You hated horror movies. But somehow you let your best friend, Mattheo, convince you to watch "IT" with your friends.

Big Mistake.

The violent imagery flashed your mind. The cannibalism, the blood, the balloon, the- the everything.

You didn't get scared by horror movies easily. You'd watched Annabelle, the Conjuring and whatnot without being terrified but IT, oh god, IT.

"You okay, princess?"Mattheo asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost." He chuckled.

You had. You'd seen a ghost. Or a clown. But it was more terrifying than any other ghosts you'd ever witnessed in your life.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I- I'm alright!" You exclaimed too caught up in terrifying thoughts than to pay attention to your boyfriend.

He knew. Of course he did. He was your best friend. But he didn't hold it over your head. He didn't even mention it.

"Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?" He asked.

"Yes but I don't know if they allow it." You replied.

"Eh they probably don't allow a couple of 16 year olds to watch IT during night either but we did it anyway." He joked.

"Wouldn't you be afraid of being seen with a Gryffindor?" You asked knowing he had quite a high status and hoped him being seen with a Gryffindor wouldn't lower it in anyway.

"Not as much as you're afraid of Pennywise." He winked.

"I so am not!" You said offended, crossing your arms and pretending to be mad at him.

"Ok princess, keep telling yourself that." He chuckled as you elbowed him.

As you neared your dorm, the scenes obscured your mind again. You took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Bye princess" Mattheo waved.

"Bye Mattheo. Thank you." You replied as you waved back.

And there it was. Your facade fell apart and petrifying thoughts clouded your mind. You pulled the sheets over your head as you laid in bed. You were fine for the first few minutes until... giggles and lines clouded your mind.

Lines such as "You'll float too!"

You were caught in an endless loop of a nightmare and the only way to stop it was... was to admit you were afraid so you'd be okay. So he'd take care of you. No, not Pennywise!

You made your way to his dorm and knocked.

"Come in!" A voice shouted from inside.

You entered Mattheo's dorm.

"Princess? What are you doing here?" He asked bewildered.

You took a deep breath and dreadfully opened your mouth to tell Mattheo the reason for your presence.

"I'm scared." You said.

He chuckled slightly.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY." You whisper-shouted.

He giggles before he pats next to him. You walk over to his side and sit down next to him.

"I don't think I resonate well with the idea of you sleeping with me." He said as he realised what you were there for.

"Huh, why?" You asked deeply hurt.

"I wouldn't be able to control myself" he smirked as he winked.

You elbowed him yet again.

"Ow! That hurt!" He stated.

"It's about to hurt a lot more if you don't shut up!" You threatened half joking.

"Alright alright. You can sleep here." He replied.

"Thank you." You said.

"I meant it, you know." He said.

"Huh?" You asked confused.

"I wouldn't be able to control myself if you slept with me." He stated.

"Huh and why's that?" You questioned.

"Because I- I like you princess." He replied.

"Oh." You simply said.

"Oh?" He repeated looking hurt. "I probably shouldn't have, I'm sorry I made it weird. I-"

Without thinking you kissed him. It felt good. You felt better. You could feel Mattheo smirk into the kiss.

You both pulled away when you started getting breathless.

"I like you too." You replied.

"Yeah I figured." He smirked.

"Get over yourself!" You exclaimed.

You placed yourself next to Mattheo on the bed. He placed one of his hands in your hair and the other one on your waist to pull you closer. His hand moved down from your hair to your cheek as he caressed it.

Butterflies exploded in your stomach as he did so. You closed your eyes and melted into his touch.

And with that you slept.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

The next morning you woke up. At first you were confused as to what you were doing in Mattheo's room but soon enough you remembered.

"Good morning Princess." He smiled at you.

"hey. I mean- good morning." You replied.

He chuckled at your flustered state.

After the atmosphere in the room became thick, Mattheo spoke.

"I didn't know you had a fear of clowns, princess." He teased.

"I didn't! I used to like clowns!"

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

A/n: I hope you liked it! Hope this is long enough for you anon. Sorry for the unnecessarily long wait xx

[cheesus-doodles]

BFF Rindou’s the kind of person that, if someone asks if he’s dating reader, will be like “Of course not. Why tf would I date that loser? I have standards.” On the other hand if someone thinks reader is dating Kakucho, Izana, or god forbid RAN he gets super defensive like “Why the HELL would they date him? They barely even know each other. I know everything about them. If they’re gonna date anyone it’s gonna be me.”

Previous Yan BFF Rindo Ask | Rindo's Valentine Day Short

Masterlist

‎

Oh no ABSOLUTELY 100%, this will be such a shitshow

I would think that this baby boy has definitely considered it - dating you that is, but from a more logical point of view. You were so helpless in his eyes that he was sure you would get yourself killed, kidnapped or worse, coerced into dating some guy, that the only way to plug the gaps from the start would be just to date you. But Rindo first off, is a delinquent, one of the feared Haitani brothers, and obviously he has a reputation to keep up. And second, he's supposed to play the part of your grumpy, reluctant bestfriend who was just being dragged along by your silliness, scolding you when you do something he doesn't like or approve of. You were supposed to seem more like his playful puppy that him, as a big bad delinquent, looks after begrudgingly. He can't be caught dating you, you know? That would totally ruin his reputation. Even if everyone knows just how soft Rindo acts towards you, though no one says a thing because he will find them and beat the shit out of them.

Even still, no doubt that somewhere down the line, seeing how close you are with your bff, someone somewhere would have the balls to ask Rindo if the two of you were dating, or if he was planning to date you at some point in the future. Seems like an innocent enough question if it came from anyone else: but the highest likelihood is that Rindo would be hearing it from Ran of all people. And his face would immediately turn red, but with anger or embarrassment not even the older Haitani could tell. Embarrassment at being called out, anger at the mere idea that others thought he saw you like that. Whoever it was that asked that unfortunate question, Rindo would be sure to try his best to shut them up before they tipped you off. No way he was going to date a loser like you, was he? Not in his wildest dreams, absolutely not. Deny, deny, deny. Proceeds to go and get his regular dose of cuddles from you afterwards when he inevitably loses to Ran.

On the other hand, this baby boy will not happy in the slightest if he hears even a rumor that you might be dating anyone. Absolutely not, no way in hell were you dating anyone. Rindo doesn't understand why you had to find someone else to be with; you already had him, your bestfriend, after all. No one else was needed in your life. If it was just some random soul that took a liking to you, and you to him, no doubt that Rindo would be quick to put him out of your life permanently and painfully. A brick to the back of the head and then breaking each and every limb is usually a good start - and if that poor person had the audacity to foul your innocence by holding your hand, this baby boy didn’t know if he would be able to stop himself from killing them outright. But at least if you went after a normal civilian, Rindo could deal with it.

But if you were dating Izana or Kakucho, there was nothing he could do but be mad pissed. There was only so many times he could stand to get his ass kicked after all. Would try his best to convince you that this was a mistake behind their backs, that dating someone as dangerous and unstable as them (cough the irony) was bad for you. That only he knew everything about you. Would he actually ask you to date him instead? Depends really. Did he feel shy and embarrassed? Yes. Did he like you that way? Who’s asking? But was he sure that he was the best for you? Yes. 100% yes. So no, Rindo will not ask you to date him, but he will stew and pout and try to take up every second of your time that he possibly can to get you away from your “boyfriends” (he doesn’t believe they are anything more than ants, if you asked him, but he wouldn’t dare say that in front of those two demons).

And it'll be absolutely the apocalypse if its Ran of all people that Rindo thinks you're dating. Would actually march you straight to where Ran was and start a fight with the older Haitani, cursing and swearing at Ran that he knew you were off limits. That Ran knew he wasn’t supposed to touch you, that you belonged to him, all the while you were sat at the side, humming to yourself and maybe sipping on a cold drink. Would be even angry enough to move out from their shared apartment for a few days and take you with him, much to his older brother's amusement. Takes his frustration out on some poor souls from a rival gang because he can’t beat his older brother, and he’ll have to go back and stay there, no matter how much he wanted to just move in with you. Rindo would even continue to grumble to the unfortunate victims of his brutal beatings, whining and complaining to his captive audience about how it was so obvious that he was the best for you, and that you should date only him.

Everyone knows Rindo wouldn’t do that though, so he just has to suffer through watching you be shy and blush. Poor baby boy.

[isackwhy]

Ooooh, can you do the platonic friend group and isaac x reader when it's the readers birthday? I mean her and everyone are super duper close too. Like they've know each other since childhood hahah

🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 otw bae

platonic! tgc x birthday! reader / isaacwhy x birthday! hc’s

you’ve known isaac like ur whole life

it was the typical childhood bffs to lovers arc and it was adorable

but knowing isaac means u meet all his friends very quickly

and good thing u did bc now they’re all ur besties too

andddd it’s ur birthday

big ol’ 21

u wake up in isaacs bed, stretching ur arm out only to not feel isaac

u sit up immediately and ur eyes adjust, landing on a birthday banner half hanging on the wall

once ur ears also adjust u hear giggling from behind hsi bedroom door

“oh god,” u groan with a chuckle

“no—larry—stop!” u hear nick warn

“she’ll hear us and wake up!” tanner tells him but larry’s giggles are still prominent

u sit in isaacs bed, watching their feet shuffle under the door

suddenly, the door opens and their faces DROP when they see ur awake

they all have gifts in hand, ur boyfriend has the biggest bag in hand

“they’re awake,” yumi points out the obvious

once they all realize ur awake, therefore no more surprise…..they burst into the happy birthday song

terribly might i add. out of key. everything

but u still smile brightly, laughing ur ass off

once they’re done they rush over and bombard u their gifts

they each got u alcohol and some other things you’ve mentioned u wanted

isaac got u alcohol, clothes, a teddy bear and so many other things <3

“thank u guys. im sorry for ruining the surprise,” u tell them, voice still groggy

“yeah you fucked it all up—“

“yumi!” they all yell in unison

“what????? im kidding. happy birthday. is this where u start ur alcoholism?” yumi asks

“start? i watched them down like 4 sojus last week,” larry laughs

“alright. up,” isaac says, trying to scoop u up

“what? what! hey—“ u yell as isaac scoops u up, “do not take me down stairs while holding me—“

“you’re fine!” isaac sighs, walking down the stairs w u in his arms

he sets u down and all the boys stare at u with smiles

it’s lowkey unsettling

“what?” u ask w ur hands on ur hips

“it’s ur birthday. whatever u wanna do today we will do!” nick tells u

“we’re going to the bars later. obviously,” u say

u also decide that u wanna go shopping w them and nick and isaac don’t let u buy anything like they refuse and get annoyed if u run away and pay for it yourself

by the time ur done u have a whole new outfit for the bars

but before u guys go they take u to ur favorite food place

now ur at the bars. they’re announcing to everyone it’s ur birthday and ur getting free drinks from ur friends and strangers

ur drunk. so very drunk.

so are most of the boys except nick

ur stumbling down the road as u exit the bars but ur singing and the boys are all taking funny videos

once again drunkenly shouting it’s ur birthday

isaac has his hands around ur waist

“it’s y/ns birthday! it’s y/ns birthday!” they’re all chanting

u get to the car and u get aux ofc

u barely make it back into the group house

overall successful birthday

[iliveinarainbow]

watching claudia interact with the coven makes me want to jump through my computer and be her knight in shining armor, save her and knock some sense into louis.

ik that everything we see is through armand and louis’ warped lense and pov so they’re not the most reliable narrators, but the way louis was so quick to be like “oh that doesn’t sound like him” when claudia literally just told him that armand had threatened her life makes me want to jump out of my own skin.

bro you have known this man for two days max, STAND UP!!

this is the girl you once called your daughter, she comes to tell you that your new bff has threatened her life and you don’t even give yourself the time to actually think about it before defending him?!

claudia my girl the world didn’t deserve you

alexa play “not a lot, just forever” by a. lenker bc i could indeed be a good mother and i need SOMEONE to care about my baby

how am i supposed to keep watching this show knowing what is about to happen??

it’s like watching a wildlife documentary and the zebra is just minding her own business but you see a lion slowly coming to get her and YOU CAN’T.DO.ANYTHING!!

[starryriize]

fluffy woonhak headcanons pls 😭🙏🙏

spending summers with… | woonhak!

꒰ pairing/wc ꒱ bff! woonhak / wc: 0.3k

꒰ author’s note ꒱ i adore woonhak sm :(( i hope this meets your expectations <3

🫧taglist → @leehanascent , @cherrycolaberry

➺ woonhak who goes to the beach with you to build sand castles and it ends up getting washed away by the sand :((

➺ bff woonhak getting ice cream with you and having to eat it quickly before it melts or better yet, going into cry-laughter when the top of your ice cream falls down 😭🥲

➺ bringing woonhak to your childhood home and making him s’mores; then laughing at him when the chocolate gets all over his shirt

➺ going to the amusement park just to people watch! you play “eye-spy” with him and he keeps pointing out how good the food looks

➺ it’s basically a lot of eating and laughing at each other’s stories! woonhak tells you stories about his hyungs and how childish they get at times 😭

➺ ZOO TRIP!! going to the zoo with woonhak and making him try dippin dots for the first time; then bringing him to see the baby elephants! obviously, you both go to the sahara café afterwards :))

➺ taking lots of pictures with your camera as you go through each section of the zoo! most of them are blurry bc you’re both too excited to actually take a good picture 😭🫶🏼

➺ making milkshakes with him?! 1000% laughter!! you’re giggling because you forgot the main ingredient: ice cream 😔 it’s okay though because the milkshake tastes just as good bc it’s lowkey all chocolate!!

➺ getting matching jellycat plushies and going out for shaved ice!! (this is peak love idc idc)

➺ movie nights?? oh they’re so much fun!! you and woonhak practically spend most of the movie fighting over the popcorn bowl😭 the vibes are so cozy, makes you realize that it's the people you spend time with that make life better <33

[goatsandgangsters]

I tried to summarize what I've osmosis'd about house of the dragon purely from my dash & my partner and decided to post it

caveat: I am horrible with names and I did not fact-check the spelling of a n y o n e ' s name

so. first of all. lesbians.

there’s Alicent who is “a repressed lesbian who’s never had an orgasm in her life” (quoth @meyerlansky). I don’t think she knows this about herself, but it’s true. there’s also Rhaneyra who is Extremely Hot and bisexual. (this I know to be factual!! I saw the kissing gifs with that other woman!! I saw them!!) anyway, Alicent and R had an adorable childhood first-love situation that they didn’t realize was them being in love but They Were In Love. then it all went to fuck, because Alicent had to marry Rhenyra’s… father? stepfather? some crusty old relation of hers? and this was bad for them, because Alicent is a lesbian and was also STILL TINY, so marrying your bff/love-of-your-life’s crusty old man relation is Not A Good Time For Either Of You 

Rhaenyra—I’m just gonna spell it different every time until I figure it out, but I think this one is right—anyway Rhaenyra is married to Matt Smith but I don’t think he like… matters? I get the sense he’s kind of one of the Main Dudes but I also don’t know anything about what he like. Does? oh also he’s her uncle 

there are……… three children. I’m not entirely positive whose children they are. I think they’re Alicent’s children. There’s—oh god—ONE OF THEM is Aemond and one of them is Aegon, only I’m not sure which is which. this is super embarrassing because @meyerlansky 's fave is “whichever is the one with the long hair and the eyepatch” so I SHOULD know this. but I'm bad with names and I just call the one who is their fave “three-mouth” bc he looks like that meme of the cat going >:3 at a knife. there’s also Helena, who was a small weird child who likes bugs, and whose name is definitely spelled differently than that 

anyway. Ae-something (the one who looks like this >:3) has a dragon who is old and senile and her name is Grandma Warcrimes. and she accidentally (?) ate Ae’s couuuuusin, his name is Lu-something-or-other. this was a very significant thing that happened 

Alicent’s Squad and Rhaenyra’s Squad have Major Significant Beef with each other, only I have honestly no idea what it is, other than like… their unresolved sexual tension

there’s also. okay wait. someone has a gay husband, yes? there’s a handsome Black man who is gay? was heeeee WAIT WAIT. Handsome Gay Husband was Rhaenyra’s husband, but she was fucking around with Uncle Matt Smith, so all her kids are… Uncle Matt Smith’s? and then Handsome Gay Husband died (was killed? for being gay maybe?) and then she married Uncle Matt Smith instead? 

OH! WAIT WAIT WAIT. I’M PIECING IT TOGETHER I THINK. SO THE BEEF. Grandma Warcrimes ate Cousin Lululemon, who was…. like one of them is Alicent’s child and one of them is Rhaeynera’s, so the beef—in addition to the rampant lesbian sexual tension—is also about “your kid killed my kid on the playground” kind of an issue? (see now I’m second-guessing myself whose kid is whose based on hair color but whatever) 

there’s also a GILF. she literally Just Died. which is sad, because she was hot rip 

so yeah. that's all I got. that's all I've absorbed. this show is about lesbians and dragons and people are mad at each other for Reasons. I don’t know what those reasons are but they sure are fighting and killing about it! 

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 4.1)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 15.5k (IT JUST KEEPS GETTING LONGER WHY)

summary: that second year of high school has a clear division within your mind—before summer and after. this is the before.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, awkward teenage sexual awakenings, denying that you're thirsting on your bffs and you're plunging in DENIAL river at the thought of CRUSHING on your bffs, masturbation, wet dreams (ish?), the existential crisis of realizing a bunch of old dudes poorly control the future of your teenage life, and good ole fashioned meltdowns

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @honeydew-cheesecake

author note: (ಠ_ಠ) no seriously dude stories really do have a mind of their own because HERE WE ARE. 15.5 THOUSAND WORDS. and that was BEFORE hidden inventory. i've still got so many brain worms for post-hidden inventory that i said "my god the tumblr post will be so fucking long let me just cut this in half and give the besties an update while i'm at it"

chapter links: ONE, TWO, THREE, AO3

[YEAR TWO.]

[PART I]

You know that they’re there. You’re not sure exactly where, but you can feel their eyes on you—sharp and predatory. You know that you may not be the best sorcerer around, but you think that this is a mission only you can do. You can’t let yourself waver here! There are people who depend on you now!

“We truly appreciate this, Senpai.”

They’re close, you can feel it. You’ll have to make your final stand here. Maybe you can trick them, so they don’t come at you with their all. Yes, you’ll talk and make it look like you’ve let your guard down.

You slow to a stop and turn around to face the two boys behind you with a smile. Haibara Yu and Nanami Kento—the only two to be enrolled this year. Both of them come from non-sorcerer families, so like you and Suguru last year, they’re here a week early to have a crash course on the jujutsu world. Hmm, now that you think about it, that could be why you’re so protective of them. You remember how overwhelmed you were by all that information thrown at you.

Nanami was dead serious with his thanks, as he is in general. Paired with Haibara, who is open and warm, you hope that his sharp edges will soften. Just as you hope that Nanami will teach Haibara to learn how to focus. He’s very laidback. You’re not sure that he realizes how dangerous sorcery can be.

“I hope this doesn’t offend you,” Haibara starts nervously, “but isn’t this…excessive?”

Oh, poor, sweet, naïve Haibara. There are still stars in his eyes. It blinds him to the truth that you have to do this because no one else can. Only you can stand up to those saccharine smiles and escort your precious juniors to class. Without you, either they’d be kidnapped or Nanami would break and be expelled because he hasn’t built up an immunity yet.

Out of the corner of your eye, shadows move.

However, you were prepared for this!

You’ve learned from experience, so you know that one will try to sneak up behind you and snatch you up. With a mighty cry, you brandish the bottle that you had hidden in the front pocket of your uniform. Giving your back to your juniors, you spray Suguru right in the face with water.

“Gah!”

You spin on your heel and push between Nanami and Haibara to reach Satoru who stands behind them with a sadistic grin. His hands were going for their collars, but he’s lost when you spray him in the face, too. It doesn’t matter that the water is stalled by Infinity. They’ve lost the game today.

“No!” You hold the spray bottle up threateningly. Satoru accepts his defeat by dropping down to sit on the ground and cross his arms over his chest. “Let them get to class! There’s not gonna be any weird hazing rituals on my watch!”

“When did you become a member of the Disciplinary Committee?” Suguru teases while he slides in beside you to lean an elbow on your shoulder. You brandish the bottle, but he takes a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “You win this round, Squid. I won’t bother you or your ducklings for the rest of the day.”

Did you hear Nanami breathe a sigh of relief? You’re not sure. But you definitely hear Haibara squawk loudly. You look over your shoulder, watching as Nanami takes the chance to escape and books it away from the scene, practically dragging his classmate along with him. You can’t say that you blame Nanami. You know other people tend to think that Satoru is a lot to deal with and now that he and Suguru are so close…at times, they’re downright unbearable.

With an irritated sigh, you ask them, “Can you stop with the duckling thing?”

“Why? Worried you’ll get another nickname, Mama Duck?” Satoru taunts.

You won’t tell him that he’s right.

“The real question,” Suguru interrupts as he gently tugs at the strap of your backpack, “is where are you going?”

“A date,” you answer bluntly.

“What?!” Satoru yelps.

Suguru quickly follows up with, “With who?!”

“Talk about Mama Duck,” you mutter.

“Papa!” Satoru whines. Because he’s still on the ground, he starts tugging at Suguru’s pants—more like a child than the mother he pretends to be. “Sketch is in her rebellious phase!”

“You’re not reading any of my Ouran manga anymore.” In preparation for the anime adaptation that’s about to premiere, you’ve been burning through the manga. And Satoru once declared that he wanted to read what you did because he wants to know what kind of things you like, so he’s been reading it along with you. “I’m meeting up with Shoko. We’re getting our nails done and grabbing food.”

“Boo.” Satoru leans back on his hands with a huff. “Suguru, let’s go on our own date to make them jealous!”

“You guys are extra childish today.” You put a hand on your hip. “If I stop at the konbini on my way back, will you cut it out with the temper tantrums?”

“Rude.” You wait. Suguru and you stare at each other. He’s the one to crack first. “Some unadon, please.”

“Parfait!” Satoru chirps.

“Actual food, Satoru,” you and Suguru intone at the exact same time.

“Ugh. Fine. A katsu sandwich and the parfait.”

“Good boy.” Satoru has an interesting reaction to your praise. His face turns bright red, probably out of chagrin. He jerks away from your hand that’s reaching out to ruffle his hair and yanks his legs up against his chest. You hold your hands up like Suguru had done not long ago. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize. “I should’ve asked before I tried to touch.”

“It’s not that!” Satoru snaps his head to the side, looking away, scowling at nothing. “You know that you and Suguru are allowed to touch me whenever! But don’t talk to me like I’m a dog! Jeez!”

You cock your head to the side. “Is that how it came off? I was being genuine. You usually put up more of a fuss when we try to get you to eat regular food.”

“Squid.” You turn to look up at Suguru. There’s this weird smile on his face as he watches Satoru. Forced, maybe? But then he turns his attention back to you. “What time are you meeting Shoko? Shouldn’t you get going? I don’t want you to freak out over being late because we held you up.”

Your eye twitches. “But you’ll hold up our juniors from going to class?”

The tension in his smile melts away for something coyer. “We want to welcome them. Get to know them better since they’re in the dorms with us now. Isn’t that the responsible thing to do as their upperclassmen?”

“I can’t believe you preached to them about how important our roles are, but you want to interrupt their studies.”

“It’s nothing official,” he tries to dismiss. “Sensei won’t throw them to the wolves on their first day. They could catch up once the term starts.” He raises a brow. “I can’t believe you preached to them about having fun when they can, but you want to keep them tucked away under your wing,” he throws back at you tauntingly.

You roll your eyes. “Go jerk each other off or something and leave the rest of us out of it.”

They’re both still sputtering when you walk away with a smug smirk.

Oh.

No wonder Satoru and Suguru had been so upset about the idea of you on a date. You’d completely forgotten that it’s cherry blossom season. There are definitely no open benches. Thankfully, you’re prepared! You brought a blanket in case the benches were still wet from the morning dew. You’re happy that you’re still early despite Satoru and Suguru’s distraction because you have time to hunt down a spot that’s as far away as it can be from other people on the open lawn.

You spot Shoko before she sees you. You stand up and wave a hand in the air to catch her attention. Around the stick in her mouth, she’s grinning as she approaches. Then, because you’re weirdly attracted to having assholes for friends, she asks loud enough for other people to hear, “Are we on an actual date, pretty girl?”

And, normally, you’d be embarrassed by that. Right now, though, when she’s close enough, you’re smacked in the face with the bitter smell of smoke. The end of what you thought was a candy stick is bright orange. “Shoko!” You flap a hand nervously in her direction, motioning toward that thing in her mouth. “You leave us for a month and you’re smoking now?!”

“Aw, man. I’d hoped getting you all flustered would’ve helped you ignore that.” She laughs easily. “Here.” She plops the plastic bag in hand on the blanket. “I wanted to drop this off before I go put out this cigarette. I don’t want us getting kicked out for me not being in the designated smoking area.” She waves a hand. “Be right back.”

You’re still in a tizzy when she gets back. “This is bribery,” you accuse when she’s close enough. When she’d proposed this, you suggested the both of you buying your own meals, but she insisted on paying. Now, you know why, and you also know why she got a bunch of your favorite foods and drinks. “I can’t believe you,” you continue to complain. “You’re going to be a doctor. You have surgeons as parents. What do they think about this?”

“They’re smokers, too.”

You huff in disbelief. “That seems…irresponsible.”

“They do have a kid that could heal any complications that come from it. That’s why I do it. I get the chemical rush and none of the damage. Seems like a win-win to me.” She plops down on the blanket next to you. “You’re not helping the Mama Duck allegations, y’know.”

Ugh. Having more than one friend sucks sometimes. If only they could move those online chatrooms to cell phones. You could scold them all at once about this weird obsession they have with giving you embarrassing nicknames. “It’s not bad to care about people!”

“You’re too sweet for jerks like us, pretty girl,” Shoko says with a laugh as she holds out okonomiyaki as an offering.

You eye the plastic container before you snatch it from her hands. “No octopus, right?”

“Vegetarian,” she replies. You smile brightly and flip the container open. Between the both of you chowing down, she asks, “Did you work on your technique over the break? Gotten anywhere else with it?”

“Ugh, yeah, and it’s gotten me in a weird place.” She raises a brow at your answer. You absentmindedly chew on the end of your straw. “I still can’t control them. It’s like I’m giving them a suggestion and the weaker they are, the more likely they are to listen to what I have to say.” You frown. “I was on an assignment with Suguru and another sorcerer last week, y’know. They used a shikigami.” You fidget nervously. “I pacified the shikigami and Suguru’s cursed spirit.”

Shoko nearly drops her drink from the shock. “Seriously?”

You nod. “We don’t know what to make of it. I could maybe understand Suguru since the cursed spirits are technically their own separate thing. It’s like an extreme master-servant deal. But with a shikigami…that’s just a physical form of a sorcerer’s cursed energy.”

“How easy was it?”

“Not at all. I passed out,” you admit sheepishly. “I thought I was pacifying the cursed spirit we were after, but…uh…I guess the other two were caught in the range. The shikigami was a lot easier, actually. It might have to do with the amount of cursed energy. When this was all happening, it felt like an uphill battle. Suguru has more cursed energy than me and it’s like I’m muting his connection, so I guess I’d need to overcome his. If he wasn’t so tired, I don’t think I would’ve won.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it all boils down to cursed energy.” You tilt your head in question. “Like…you’re suppressing cursed energy itself. Not only cursed spirits. What are cursed spirits if not a massive amount of negative cursed energy? If you look at it with that perspective, it only makes sense that you can pacify shikigami.”

“I want to say that it feels like you’re reaching, but…” Well. That’s the only logical outcome when you add up the pieces. It’s started now because you’re getting stronger, refining control over your own cursed energy. “I don’t like this,” you whisper when you start thinking too much. “Wouldn’t the next step be pacifying the sorcerer? I…I don’t want to control people.” You shake your head furiously. “No. I could never be that strong.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself there, pretty girl. If it boils down to a cursed energy match, you have a lot.” You try to wave the comment off. Sensei has mentioned something along those lines, too. “I’m serious. You can’t compare yourself to Gojo and Geto since they’re freaks of nature. You’ve got such an insane amount that you’re getting close to freak yourself. If you had a more threatening ability, you might be considered Special Grade.”

“Can we not talk about me anymore, please?”

“Alright, alright. Let me tell you about the fun I had over the break. They gave me access to the morgue.”

***

You’re…distracted…

It’s hard not to stare.

It was only a moment, but you still watch him intently. You’re reminded of those pictures that are drawn in such a way that you can see multiple interpretations and when someone points out their own perspective, you can never not see it anymore. This is like that. It doesn’t matter if you demand that he tuck his shirt in like some scandalized lady of the house from the Heian period because it’s burned in your brain now.

Such a small, simple thing. A flutter of his shirt when he leaped in the air to shoot the basketball, and you saw beneath the figurative curtain. And somewhere in the back of your brain, you knew that a simple belt wouldn’t be enough to hold up Suguru’s heavy, baggy pants, but it never clicked. Not until now. Not until you saw a flash of the high waist of his pants.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Why does it feel like your brain would be playing the old internet dial-up sound on a loop if someone could read your mind right now?

It was a waist! You didn’t even see skin! If you’re going to drool over something, it should be his arms. With his sleeves rolled up like that, you can see the few veins that run along his upper arms. With him holding a basketball like that, the size of his hands become more apparent. Suguru…really took that punch at last year’s Goodwill Event personally and he’s started to work out a lot more. You can tell. Not that he wasn’t fit before with all the farm work he did in the village, but…

Holy shit, what are you going to do in summer? You think you heard Satoru mention that they had more people to play basketball with now, so they could do teams, and…and don’t guys do the whole shirts versus skins thing? They wouldn’t with only two to a team, would they? What are you going to do? Suguru is more massive than ever now. More muscled than ever.

Is the heat still on? You’re so hot right now. And more than that…

“Yo! Sketch! Hey, look out—”

Something heavy thumps against the top of your head. You clutch at your head, watching the basketball bounce away, more flustered than hurt that you were…were…in a daze. Because you saw your best friend’s waist. When did Suguru get curves? Oh, no. Does this make you a pervert? You might be a pervert!

“Squid?”

The stupidly curvaceous man of the hour squats down in front of you. Hair has fallen out of his tight bun, bangs now framing both sides of his face. You duck your head, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. You watch his fingers twitch, but he puts his hands firmly on his big thighs.

“You lookin’ to get a new nickname, Sketch?” Satoru calls out as he approaches you and Suguru. “You’ll get one if you don’t stop being such a space cadet.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “You’re so caring, Satoru. Really, you’re dripping with compassion.” He shakes his head before moving his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you okay? Is it a bad day?”

“Is it a crime to daydream?” You scramble for something to explain your behavior. “I don’t know. I…I was trying to remember what that cursed spirit looked like.” You shake your sketchbook. His brows furrow in confusion when he looks at it because it’s almost done. You panic. “Uh…like…did it have fur or not? I can’t remember!”

“It was scales…” Suguru informs you slowly. “Are you okay? Really? Not feeling sick or anything? You don’t usually forget big things like that when it comes to cursed spirits.”

The gym door slams open, the sound echoing, and making you yelp.

Sensei shouts all your names as if you’re in trouble…which, to be fair, you probably are since you were supposed to be spending this time studying in the library. Technically, you could spin the sketch as work since you are supposed to record curses that you encounter, but you don’t even want to defend yourself. You’ve never been more thankful to be in trouble in your life. Sensei has learned that the best punishment is to separate you all from each other. You need some room to breathe.

“Since you have so much energy to burn,” Sensei starts heatedly, “you can come help with the first years.”

“Ugh,” Satoru and Suguru groan in unison.

You smartly slide off to the side to make way for Sensei. He rushes forward to knock them both over the head as a reprimand for the rude response. The hit makes them drop to their knees and they accept that they’re in for a lecture. Sensei doesn’t demand the same gesture from you because he knows that you’ll stay where you are. You do tune him out partway through, though. This is definitely a lecture more targeted toward Satoru and Suguru because you’re more than happy to help with whatever the first years need.

When Sensei calls out your name, you snap back to attention. “You’ll spar with Satoru today,” he declares. It’s hard to retain your politeness. Turns out that you’re not exactly escaping, after all. It could be worse. He could make you run the track again which you hate because you don’t have anyone to keep you company, so you get bored just running in circles.

Then, you process his words fully. “Satoru?”

“Suguru is going to work with Nanami and Haibara today,” Sensei explains. “Satoru still needs a lot of work on his hand-to-hand combat.” Suguru snickers quietly while Satoru sputters at the, frankly, correct assessment. “You’re next best after Suguru. He’ll benefit from sparring with you. It might also help him with having some restraint.”

“What the hell, old man?!” Satoru shouts. “Suguru, shut up!” Clearly, Satoru isn’t that preoccupied with getting an answer. He just stomps out of the gym with a red face while Suguru quickly follows after him to pile on the teasing.

Both you and Sensei sigh when they’re out of sight—for different reasons, of course. Sensei goes on to scrub a hand across his face. You don’t doubt that he’s questioning his life choices right now. Kusakabe, when he visits Sensei and you escort him to where your teacher is, has told you that Sensei complains about how Satoru and Suguru are some of the most promising yet most frustrating students that he’s ever had.

“Sorry, Sensei.” You feel the need to apologize on their behalf. Sensei shoots you an irritable look now. One of your biggest lectures is to stop doting on Satoru and Suguru. “Sorry,” you mumble again with a wince. He stares at you a few seconds more before he heads out of the gym. You quickly follow after and step in line beside him. “Um…you said that we needed to get used to helping Nanami and Haibara more. Something about escorting them on missions?” That had caught your attention during the lecture. “When does that start?”

“I’m not sure,” Sensei answers honestly. “It depends on how today goes. Haibara’s family owns a dojo. Nanami has taken kendo classes since he was a child. I want to see how well they incorporate cursed energy into their techniques.”

Your brows furrow. “It’s been a month…” He hums in agreement. “We were going on our first assignments within a month.”

“Your class is a special case. You’re all extremely talented. Satoru and Suguru are in the process of being assigned Special Grade status. I’ve also been speaking with Kusakabe about putting your name forward for Grade 1 in the future.” Your eyes widen and your head snaps up to stare at him in shock. “Though, I’m not sure that you need the recommendation. Those at headquarters are very interested in your abilities. They’ll be speaking with you soon.”

“I…I don’t understand.” Your mind is spinning right now. “Why? What more can I tell them?”

Sensei stops and turns to stare at you like you’ve grown another head. “You discovered that the Red Room Curse exists as an extension of a cursed spirit’s technique. You used the break to research, something you didn’t have to do. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have known that it had created a cursed tool in the Taisho period. It was found yesterday, if you were curious. It’s been sealed away.”

You frown. “Doesn’t that just mean they should do more research themselves?”

“They should,” he agrees. But they won’t and now you’re here, he doesn’t say. You can do it for them. “Like any high schooler, you should start thinking about what you want to do after graduation. You and Shoko have more options open to you than the rest of your peers. As your name spreads at headquarters, it trickles down to the clans, so they may offer you positions, too.”

And you can’t help but blurt, “Couldn’t you have sprung this on me after sparring?”

Sensei chuckles softly. “It wasn’t meant to cause you stress. What you do or don’t do with your technique is up to you. This was to help you see your worth, more than anything.”

You blink at his honesty. “Y’know…you’re actually a good guy, Sensei.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he grouses.

“Ah, but it was?”

Sensei sighs. “I know.”

“This is stupid,” Satoru complains as the two of you stand off to the side and watch Nanami and Haibara throw themselves at Suguru. They try to clumsily infuse their moves with cursed energy which Suguru is quick to point out and guide them on how to better let their cursed energy flow. “Why not let the guy with a shield handle this?”

“The inconsistent shield?”

Ah, maybe that was a little too mean. Satoru is in a weird place. The last few months, he’s felt like he’s started to slide backward in terms of progress. He still can’t fire off his technique, Red, consistently. Whenever he does try, it leaves him exhausted. Not to mention that, suddenly, his Infinity has started to lower at the most random of times. Satoru has no reason why. Thankfully, it’s not a lot. Sensei and Shoko were honestly shocked because it’s never dropped around them. It’s only you and Suguru that have seen Infinity act up and Satoru wants to keep it that way.

Satoru doesn’t dwell on your words. “Not you too, Sketch! What’s with everyone bashing me today, huh?”

“Anyway.” You roll your eyes. “Getting hit is the point here. Suguru can feel their output better that way and correct them. And it’s not enough for them to hurt him.”

“I’m good at controlling and channeling my cursed energy, too!”

“Yeah, but you can’t explain it well.” Before he can loudly whine again, you interrupt. “For you, it’s so easy that you don’t think about it. It would be like explaining how to breathe.” You pause. “Also, you’re way too rude. You need to be delicate with these things and that’s impossible for you.”

“Is not!”

You turn to stare at him while you dryly ask, “Are you done stalling now?”

His cheeks are flushed with chagrin. “I’m not stalling!”

“Let’s get started, then. I want today to be over. I’m exhausted.” You are tired, true, but you mainly want to run and hide away in your room. Those…thoughts…about Suguru…they still linger in the back of your mind. You’re pointedly not trying to look at him specifically, instead focusing on Nanami or Haibara.

“Fine.”

Satoru makes a show of stomping away. You follow after him with a shake of the head and quiet chuckle. Just a little pushback from people for once and he can’t take it? Suguru will definitely give him more shit later. You wonder if Suguru will lecture him in the showers—

Stop! Stop! Stop!

Where the fuck did that come from? You’re so struck by your own brain’s train of thought that you almost trip over your feet. As you meet Satoru on the other side of the field, you purposely put your back to the first years. You pray that you won’t bump into them. You don’t know that you can stand to face Suguru right now. You’re done. This day has been weird and hellish. You’ll just have to apologize to Satoru later for your impending brutality. You can’t take it easy on him today if you want to be dismissed by Sensei as soon as possible.

“Start already!” Sensei shouts from the other side of the field.

You’re not sure whether Utahime would consider you a friend yet, but since Shoko has the hugest crush on her but is too scared to ask her on an actual date, you’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. A favorite activity of hers is dancing. It makes sense because it’s an integral part of her technique. More often than not, when you and Shoko visit Utahime in Kyoto, you three end up dancing the night away in her apartment.

And you, practical person that you are, have started to infuse what you’ve learned into your attack style. It’s useful against people like Suguru and Satoru who are so much taller and physically stronger than you. Because, like all things, there are disadvantages to their size. You’re more nimble, more flexible. They naturally swing high which has you mostly going low—sometimes, even dropping to do the splits. When they try to kick, you can dance away or, if you react fast enough, you can catch their leg to sweep them off their feet.

It's been some time since you’ve sparred with Satoru, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not watching. You know how he fights, but today…it’s different. He’s as dodgy as you are. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he’s pulling his punches. Never let it be said that he’s not a fast learner, so maybe he’s adjusting to match your fight style. He’s like a snake, trying to lash out to get his fangs in you, trying to wrap around you. You narrowly miss getting locked down when he snatches your sweatshirt by pulling yourself out of it.

Just when you think you have his moves down, it only gets weirder. His cheeks are pink. You didn’t think you were going hard enough at him to make him sweat, but maybe you’re wrong. Now, he’s purely on the defensive…or so you think. You should’ve known better. You make the mistake of trying to throw yourself fully on the offense. So, when you aim a high kick at him, he snatches your ankle and roughly yanks you.

It happens fast. You try to catch yourself with your hands, twisting your torso to try to get them on the ground. It doesn’t work in that respect, but it does hook your ankle around Satoru’s neck enough to tip him forward. The back of your head smacks against the ground painfully. The breath is knocked out of you when Satoru’s heavier body lands right on top of you.

“Ow, ow, ow, Sketch. You kicked my head!”

Words are stuck in your throat.

Because, suddenly, you have become hyperaware of your own body. And it’s not exactly like that’s…abnormal…but this…isn’t overstimulation. Or…maybe it is? A shiver runs down your spine. The points of contact where Satoru’s bare skin touches yours are like live wires—heated and sparking.

With the first few buttons of his shirt popped open, your cheek is smashed against his bare skin. Since you’re in a short-sleeve shirt, one of his stupidly huge hands are wrapped around your arm. And…and when he tries to lift away from you, his…his knee slips up and…accidentally nudges up between your thighs…

You bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut, but it’s not enough to hold back the tiny whimper in response to the rush of heat that zips up your spine.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Above you, Satoru goes rigid. You’re mortified. He heard. “Ow!” It’s all you can think to do. You hope that he falls for your desperate attempt to make that sound like a pained whimper. You need out of here. Fuck the consequences. You squeak out, “I yield!”

“Cool!” Satoru sounds as equally panicked as you do. “My prize is your sweatshirt!”

“Whatever! Can you m—”

There’s a burst of cursed energy. Then, you two become a dizzyingly mess of limbs. You yelp and instinctively grip at Satoru, but because he lifted his arm, his shirt rode up, so you’re grabbing at his bare waist and digging your nails in. He squawks at the rough treatment, trying to lean away, and his hand ends up groping one of your tits when he tries to get his bearings.

As soon as your sweatshirt that he pulled toward him with Blue is finally in his hand, Satoru moves away from you. He chokes when he’s yanked back viciously by the back of his collar. Suguru uses so much force that it briefly lifts Satoru’s knees off the ground. Satoru, weirdly, is protective of his prize because he only reaches back to swat at Suguru with one hand while the other keeps your sweatshirt pressed against his body.

“Satoru!” Suguru shouts. “What the hell? We don’t use cursed techniques in sparring—”

“I’m okay!” You scramble to lift yourself up from the ground. “I am okay!” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but Suguru isn’t buying it. You can’t blame him. There’s a tremble in your voice, sweat lining your skin, and your heart is pounding away in your chest. “I hope that everyone has a good sparring session! I’m done!”

Sensei and Suguru both call out your name, but you’re already power walking away from the field.

Despite what some people may think, you’re not stupid or naïve.

But…with how much time it took you to figure out what it was that you were feeling today since that time in the gym…you might be in denial.

In the communal showers, under the lukewarm spray of water, you have your hands pressed to your scalding hot cheeks. You continue to take deep breaths. None of this helps. There’s a very real urge to clench your thighs together. Because there’s a very real ache between them. Because your mind is an endless loop—sweat-slick skin and the hair stuck to it, flashes of skin from shirts ridden up, the outline of defined muscles hidden under white shirts, massive hands…

You slap your hands over your face which…doesn’t help. Since you’re alone, you crouch down without the fear of judgement. If you weren’t alone, you think you still wouldn’t care. You’re in the middle of a crisis. Is this a moral crisis? No. Wait. Oh, no. Is this what they call a sexual awakening?

No. That’s stupid. You’ve obviously felt desire before. Kind of. It was about as lukewarm an experience as the water that pounds against your back right now. Your thoughts had been scattered, nowhere in particular, so maybe that’s why it’d been dry—both literally and metaphorically.

This…this is so different from back then. This is warm. It’s heat. You’re throbbing. You didn’t think that you could ever feel this way. You’ve never wanted to touch yourself so badly. And that in itself isn’t a bad thing. You’ve never understood the point in shame over a natural bodily reaction and doing something to satisfy it. It never flustered you as much as your fellow classmates to hear the boys make sexual innuendos.

No, this shame comes from who you want to think about as you touch yourself. Even now, past your distress, you want to drop to your knees, slip your hand down between your thighs, and know what it’s supposed to truly feel like. But you know…you know that if you do that, their faces will be at the forefront of your mind.

You’re not supposed to think about Satoru and Suguru like this!

They are your best friends!

How the hell are you supposed to ignore this? You finally understand what some people mean when they say they feel like a cat in heat. It’s fine. You’ll just…get your mind off it. Ugh. So, going back to your room is a bad idea. If you’re left alone with your thoughts, you’ll never stop thinking about it. What can you do, though? Why is your go-to always hanging out with friends? You don’t want to be around people anymore. You’re so mentally exhausted now.

Right, okay, you’ll drop to your other default.

There was a bird nest in the big tree outside the classroom window. If you’re lucky, the mama bird will stay still long enough for you to draw her.

As always, drawing manages to knock you out of your head.

It calms you down to the point that between one blink and the next, you’re asleep. Not that you realize that until the ground falls out from underneath you and you jerk awake. There’s a part of you that knows whose arms you’re in, though, so your brain is still calm enough to try and drag you back to sleep.

With a sigh, you slip your arms around his neck and shove your face in the crook of his neck. “Sketchbook,” you mumble as almost an afterthought.

“I’ll come back for it later,” Suguru whispers. “You have to stop sketching outdoors when you’re so tired, Squid. You’ll catch cold.”

“Okay,” you agree sleepily.

Suguru chuckles quietly. “Forget it. I’ll lecture you tomorrow.”

***

“This one?”

You take a step to the side, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Shoko. You hunch over to examine where she points at on the display case. It’s a cute tongue ring with a charm in the shape of a heart. “Pretty, but too flat.” She raises a brow in question. “I like it when they have the little ball on the end. See?” You open your mouth to physically show her the piercing and how you roll it against your teeth. “It’s really satisfying to play with.”

On the other side of the display case, Utahime clicks her tongue. “That could easily turn into a dangerous distraction.”

You tilt your body to stare at her through the crack of display cases. Deadpan, you ask, “You have a problem with my tongue piercing but not with Shoko’s smoking?”

“I’m trying to save you from her bad influence,” Utahime shoots back.

“Hey,” Shoko complains.

Then, hypocritically, Utahime points at her side of the case. “What about one of these?” Clearly, if she’s making suggestions then she doesn’t care all that much about your piercing…ah. Wait. She was joking. Maybe a little. You’re still trying to get a read on how Utahime communicates.

You step over to her side of the case. You can’t catch yourself before you let out a shudder and scrunch your nose in disgust. It’s a bead, sure, but it’s those rubbery ones with equally rubbery spikes. Just the thought of that touching the inside of your mouth is nauseating. “Um…thank you for the suggestion, but…no.” You try to keep it polite as to not offend her.

Utahime snorts. “Okay. Stick to metal.” She blinks. “Oh. What about this one?”

The price tag makes you internally cringe, but then you actually look at it, and you immediately know you want it. You have the money saved up for it, anyway. It’s probably plastic, but it’s shaped and shiny enough to look like it’s made of diamond. At that price, it might be made of that off-brand diamond. The charm on the end is in the shape of a dragon’s head.

Excitement surges through you. You practically bounce over to a store worker to have them unlock the case and take the tongue ring to the register. As soon as it’s paid for, you skip out of the store and make a break for the nearest restroom. Just as you have it torn open and are washing it with hand soap, Shoko and Utahime burst into the restroom behind you.

“You’re really excited about this,” Utahime remarks.

“Ahh.” Shoko finally gets a good look at the tongue ring when you hold it up in the light. “No wonder you’re so excited. It’s like a little rainbow dragon.”

The tongue ring almost goes down the drain when you nearly drop it. Looking over your shoulder, you glare at her. “That’s not it at all!” The defensiveness isn’t helping your case, you realize, so you turn back to the mirror. “Jeez, Shoko, not everything I do is about Suguru or Satoru! Can I not get something because it looks cool?”

In the reflection, you watch Shoko put her hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay, I didn’t mean to offend you, your highness.”

“Inside voice, please,” Utahime reminds you. Then, to Shoko, she says, “She’s right, y’know. Not everything has to revolve around those two. A woman can dress up solely for herself. We know Duck isn’t the type to make herself uncomfortable for someone else.”

Slowly, you move to face Utahime, expression blank. “What did you just call me?”

Shoko, smartly, uses Utahime’s embarrassed stream of apologies as a chance to escape.

You need new fucking friends.

As you and Shoko meander your way up the main staircase that leads back to campus, she casually asks, “So, what’s going on with you and Gojo?”

Ha. As if you’d admit the truth. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed how quiet Gojo’s been.” For a moment, you stupidly think that she’ll keep the focus on Satoru, but you’re not so lucky. “As for you…it’s hard to explain because quiet is your default, but you’ve been really…dodgy. Acting like a nervous wild animal that runs whenever someone gets close.” Oh, you are praying that she doesn’t connect the dots. No dice. “That someone is Gojo and Geto.”

“You know how they are, Shoko. They’re always so touchy. I haven’t been in the mood to deal with that,” you lie. Well. It’s part lie. What you can and can’t handle always goes day by day.

“No, see, I know that’s a lie. Like Utahime said, you never hesitate to tell us when you’re uncomfortable. If you’re having a bad day, you let us know about it.” Shit. “Geto and I are just trying to figure it out. This started after you and Gojo sparred. I thought maybe you’re scared of Gojo and Gojo is scared that you’re scared of him, but you two are acting weird around Geto, too. So, it can’t be that—”

You try to interrupt in as less a panicky way as possible. “It really isn’t that deep—”

“I thought it had to do with the giant crush that Gojo has on you, but like I said, he’s acting like a flustered virgin around you and Geto—”

“Crush?” Shoko holds out an arm to catch you when your foot catches a step the wrong way and you stumble forward. You jerk to face her, eyes wide with shock. “What are you talking about?! Are those cigarettes laced with something, Shoko? Do you need glasses or something?”

Shoko laughs. “Sure, the person that struggles with social cues is going to lecture me.”

“I’m not dumb.”

“When did I say you were?”

“What I mean is that I could tell if he has a crush on me. He’d act different around me, right? Satoru doesn’t know how to be subtle. Since he acts no different around me than he does anyone else, the only logical conclusion is he doesn’t feel any different for me, either.”

“I can’t believe you’re coming at this like a math problem. No. Actually, I can believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “First of all, emotions aren’t logical. Second, and more importantly, he absolutely acts different around you and Geto.”

You huff. “You just proved your point wrong. If he has a crush on me, he wouldn’t treat Suguru the same, would he?”

“Ah. Wait. You’re right. Unless…ooh.” She knocks one fist against her open palm as if she’s had an epiphany. You’re terrified to hear what she’s come up with. “Unless he’s got a crush on both of you. That’s what it is. It makes so much sense. Oh, man. I’ve got to talk to Nanami and Haibara now.”

Your head is spinning. “No, you’re not talking to them about this! I don’t even think there’s a word to describe how far you’re reaching right now, Shoko!” You shake your hands, desperately trying to get out your nervous energy. “Look, I’d understand if he has a crush on Suguru. They’d be a hot couple, okay? But don’t…don’t bring me into this! That’s…anyway, isn’t that cheating?” Your voice quiets. “Isn’t that…wrong?”

“It’s not like any of you are in a relationship. So, no, I don’t think it’s cheating. I still wouldn’t. Cheating is if the other person doesn’t know you’re involved with someone else.” She shrugs. “I might be a biased opinion. There are a lot of people who say that me liking girls is wrong. So, if everyone cares about everyone else involved, then what’s wrong with more than two people in a relationship?”

Oh.

Well, that’s…

You don’t know what to do with all this.

“Okay, that’s…that’s true. I can understand that. It’s like another one of those things that people worry about when there’s no reason.” She nods in agreement. “You’re still wrong about the crush thing, though. Why would someone have a crush on me? No one ever has. Why would they start now?”

“No one has had a crush on you that you know of,” Shoko corrects cryptically. “Are we going to ignore you called them hot?”

“Are you blind?”

“No. I’m gay.”

“Shoko, I like girls, too. It doesn’t make you less of a lesbian if you admit they’re aesthetically pleasing.”

“Sure, but their personalities are so awful that it just ruins everything else.”

“Are you sure that this isn’t just you being uncomfortable that it’s like looking in a mirror when you see them? You all have the exact same sense of humor. You’re definitely as much of an asshole as them.” She bursts out in a fit of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. You know it’s true.”

Shoko wipes at her tears of laughter. As she starts to walk forward again, she remarks, “You talk big, pretty girl, but you can be an asshole yourself.”

***

If there was one thing that Shoko was right about, it’s that you’ve been obviously skirting around Satoru and Suguru. For three nights straight, both your mind and body toss and turn as you try to figure out where this sudden awareness of their bodies is coming from.

Technically, you’ve been through this before with Suguru, but…was it to this degree?

It’d been one of those rare days that you were allowed to work out in the fields with your parents. When you’d hunted Suguru down to not be so bored as you pulled crops, he’d been hunched over with no shirt on. It wasn’t the first time that you’d seen him without a shirt, per se. You’d both gone swimming before…

You’re not sure what it was. Maybe it was like how your grandparents, who lived in a different village, would remark on how much you’d grown between monthly visits. You would look in the mirror every day, so the changes in yourself were infinitesimal compared to someone that only saw you once a month. It could’ve been that, on that day, your brain had finally caught up on all the ways that Suguru had grown.

That skinny boy with his bony elbows and knobby knees and short, wild hair had grown. He’d finally hit a growth spurt the year before and was taller than everyone else in the village now. He towered over you, skin golden and dripping with sweat. He’d started to slowly grow his hair out and it was long enough to be pulled back in a stubby ponytail. He hadn’t been as toned as he is now, but it was still enough for your eyes to follow along the subtle swell of his biceps.

Jeez, that had been the last year of middle school, you think. Are you having another one of those moments? Did Satoru get caught in the crossfire?

The real question is…why aren’t you as aware of everyone else at school as you are of them? Like you told Shoko, anyone with a pair of eyes can see that they’re aesthetically pleasing. You’ve known that Suguru is a heartthrob since middle school. But…so is everyone else at school.

Shoko is a bombshell. That beauty mark? That poster that had made you blurt out your attraction and caused your mother to smack you, you’re pretty sure the model had a beauty mark, too. Shoko has the whole femme fatale thing going on now that she’s smoking. It’s not like you can blame it on height thing, either. Nanami is as tall as Suguru, the both of them just barely under Satoru. Even with the…stoic loner vibe and haircut…he’s also very handsome. Ruggedly so. Haibara is boyishly handsome, too, and very fit since his family runs a dojo.

So, why?

Why is your body reacting like this to only them?

It’s fine, you tell yourself. You can acknowledge that they’re pretty. There’s nothing wrong with that. You are, as many adults have complained about before, a hormonal teenager. It’s a little embarrassing, your body fixating on them, but you need some good old fashioned exposure therapy. You miss the normalcy that comes with them. You’re bored without them around. Your brain will whip your hormonal body into shape.

The morning after you’ve made your decision, you, admittedly, might…go from zero to a hundred. Despite your exhaustion from the lack of sleep, you think this will be a good day for your senses. Knowing that Satoru and Shoko are the type to show up at the last minute, you rush to meet Suguru on his way to class.

When you see him, back turned, head ducked as he looks at his phone, bag over his shoulder, your feet speed up. And then you throw yourself at his back, locking your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. Suguru is so surprised that his phone clatters to the ground, yanking out his earbuds.

Suguru lifts his arm up, looking under it, and you poke your head out further to show him it’s you. “Sorry,” you apologize meekly in regard to the fright. You crouch down to pick his phone and earbuds up.

“It’s fine,” he breathes out. “Someone is in a good mood this morning.”

“Sorry,” you repeat. “I feel bad now. You ask me if I want to be touched. I really should’ve done the same.”

“Should I renew my blanket permission? You don’t have to ask me.”

“Permission renewed.”

Suguru chuckles lowly as he tries to turn around in your arms. You take a step back, letting him have room, but you don’t make it very far. He snatches your wrist and yanks you back toward him, making you squeak in surprise. He wraps you up tight in his arms. Your body is tense, you know, only made worse by the rapid beat of your heart and heat prickling across your skin, but you’re trying not to act weird.

“Sorry for being…” You don’t know how to describe it without being incriminating. “My head has been in weird places.”

“Why haven’t you talked to me about it?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mumble before pressing your face against his chest.

“Since when did you start to feel shame?” Suguru teases. You dig your fingers into his side meanly, knowing it’s a spot that gets him squirming. Sure enough, he tries to wiggle away from you. “Cut it out,” he demands with a laugh. You do as he asks. “Let me be serious, Squid. I want you to talk to me, okay? Have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be yourself or say what you want around me?”

“…no,” you admit after a pause.

“Why start now, then?” His grip around you goes unbearably tight. He buries his face in your hair and confesses, “I was worried that I scared you with how rough I got with Satoru.”

“Suguru!” You fist your hands in the front of his blazer and shove him away enough to make him look at your face. “That might be the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me!” His brows furrow in confusion. You nearly shake him. “I will never ever be scared of you, okay? I think it’s physically impossible for my body to think of you as a threat.”

Suguru raises his arms in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Squid. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.”

“You’re the most important person to me. Why wouldn’t I take that personally?” You step back and cross your arms over your chest. “How would you feel if I asked if you were scared of me?”

“It might actually be physically impossible for you to look scary.”

“Never mind. I’m not talking to you anymore,” you declare with a huff before you start stomping away.

Suguru chases after you with a laugh.

The next day, in the late afternoon, you’re on your way to the bus stop, planning to head into the city for something to eat. You like this bus. Since the school’s campus is so far out, the bus is smaller, and there’s only one seat per aisle. No one will sit next to you. You don’t have to make small talk, either. You finally dropped money for a MP3 player, so when you have earbuds, you’re simply written off as a rude teenager and usually aren’t bothered.

At the torii gate, though, your dinner plans change because Satoru is waiting for you with your sweatshirt over one arm and a bag of takeout dangling from his other hand.

The two of you sneak inside an empty classroom, glowing orange with the afternoon sun. He shoves a desk in front of the one you sit at, giving you both room to eat the ramen he bought. Wordlessly, he passes you the sweatshirt. At first, you were confused over how he even got it, but you realize it’s the one from when you two sparred. It’s still warm, you think, and smells like the really expensive laundry detergent.

Unthinkingly, you shove your face against the fabric, taking a lungful and soaking in the soft warmth. You rub your face against it. Satoru snorts before he speaks directly to you for the first time in…a few days, probably. “It’s like looking at a kitten.”

“That’s rich when you’re cuddling with those soft Digimon plushies,” you grumble. You carefully fold it up and shove it down in your bag. “You didn’t have to wash it, y’know. What? Did you spill something on it or stain it or something?”

Satoru shouts, “No!” His face is bright red, though. The reddest that you’ve ever seen it. It’s answer enough.

“Don’t be so defensive. It’s okay if you did.” Your leg is bouncing from nervousness. This is so bad. You shouldn’t be nervous around best friends. “Are we done being weird around each other?”

He is pointedly not looking at you as he divvies out the plastic containers. “I’m…um…I guess I should apologize first. I didn’t scare you or anything, did I?”

You blink, honestly confused and trying to figure out why you’d be scared. “It was just Blue?”

“Yeah, but still…”

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” You break your chopsticks apart but pause. “I’m more disappointed than anything. Using your technique because you’re too lazy to walk and get my sweatshirt? What if the school was suddenly attacked and you didn’t have any cursed energy left because you’ve been flinging it around everywhere?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Do you even know how much cursed energy I have? Using it here and there isn’t going to kill me. And what kind of hypothetical is that, anyway? This is the safest place in the jujutsu world.”

“The Special Assault Team could storm campus with machine guns or something.”

“Okay, then I’d have Suguru use Hong to deflect the bullets while something else in his arsenal eats them.”

You shake your head. “And he’d do it, too. For all the lectures he gives you about being spoiled, he’s the worst.”

“Heh! So do you,” he sings.

The worst part is that he’s right. Still, you feel the need to defend your honor. “Who can say no to the jujutsu world’s prettiest princess? Lord Gojo is such a demanding little thing. No one wants to deal with one of his tantrums.”

“I know you’re trying to be an asshole, but I am the prettiest princess in all the land.”

The two of you continue to make innocent jabs at each other while you eat. In the middle of dinner, Suguru texts, asking where you are and what you’re doing. You tell him, knowing that he’ll be here sooner rather than later. Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, he’s at the doorway in baggy sweats and a big white shirt. His long hair is down, still dripping. Did he seriously come here from the showers?

You swallow, a lump in your throat. It’s fine. This is fine. His nipples are hard and poking against his shirt, but that’s a natural bodily response. Just like how you squeeze your thighs together.

Fuck. You need to run your mouth before this gets weird. “You need to blow-dry your hair. You’ll get sick, walking around with wet hair.”

Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Are you lecturing me? Miss Barefoot-in-Snow?”

“I like to see my footprint in the snow and the crunch is nice.”

“Wear socks, at least.”

In unison, you and Satoru give a scandalized, “And have wet socks?!” You’re too busy shuddering at the thought, so Satoru continues on your behalf. “It’s like you want her to die!”

“Remind me to put my blazer over any puddles that you might have to step in, Lord Satoru,” Suguru says dryly.

“More proof to the princess allegations,” you mutter.

Satoru harrumphs. “I never denied being a princess.”

Suguru fully steps inside the classroom, approaching you both, grabbing a chair along the way. “I don’t even want to know.”

***

A month of normalcy passes, and you naively think that all is right in the world once again.

It’s been an exhausting day.

As it happens when the weather starts to warm up, cursed spirit activity is on the rise again.

For Nanami and Haibara’s first mission, you are the one tasked with their supervision. You weren’t anyone’s first pick, but there was no other choice. The more experienced sorcerer assigned was called away last minute to handle a higher grade. There’s a situation somewhere in Hokkaido, potentially Special Grade. A lot of sorcerers have been seriously hurt, so Shoko went with Satoru and Suguru.

You were given one hell of a lecture when you argued with Sensei about him going with the first years instead. A chance to study a Special Grade? You didn’t want to pass that up! Then, maybe you hadmade a bitchy remark about how a potential promotion to principal is getting to his head.

Anyway, the assignment with the first years went fine.

You were lectured yet again, this time by Haibara of all people. There’s a possibility that you…sort of pacified everything in the area. In your defense, the briefing said there would only be a pack of low-level spirits. A separate, higher graded spirit must’ve been close by, heard the violence, and slipped past the veil to get in on the action. When Nanami was smacked away with enough force that he cracked the wall he landed against, you panicked.

Ugh. You’re definitely not beating those Mama Duck accusations anymore.

You force yourself through dinner with them because you wanted to be polite and felt like you owed them since you cut the mission short. It’s dusk, almost night, but the lights of the city and restaurant are still too bright. They decide on a place that’s packed and so loud. By the time you three step outside, you have a pounding headache and nearly fall asleep against Nanami’s shoulder because you’re drained.

After you’re showered and dressed for bed, you flop back on your mattress with a weary sigh. On instinct, you reach for your cell phone, checking for any new messages like you have been the last three days. It’s late. You don’t expect much from them. Satoru used Blue at maximum output three times, Shoko reported. Suguru swallowed the curse when it was weak enough. Satoru will be wiped out and Suguru will be in bed immediately to digest the curse.

Everyone has been sending you pictures. The most recent and most likely last batch of the night are from Shoko. One that shows three bottles of nail polish, one that shows Suguru and Satoru hunched over as they paint their nails, a zoom-in of Satoru with his tongue poking out in concentration, and the last a shot of everyone’s finished nails. Satoru chose an electric blue, Suguru went with black, and Shoko has a baby pink color.

You spend way too long staring at that picture. There’s something in the pit of your stomach, seeing Shoko’s hand so close to theirs. It’s small compared to theirs. You wish that it could be your hand there. You want to run the tip of your finger along the line of their prominent veins. You’d hold both your hands up so they could press one of theirs against it, just to see how much they dwarf your own. What would the fit be like if you laced your fingers through theirs?

Your phone chimes with a text from Suguru. Face hot, you quickly back out of the conversation with Shoko, feeling guilty for a reason you can’t pinpoint. As soon as Shoko told you that Suguru swallowed the curse, you immediately texted Suguru, wanting to check in and remind him to remember to grab some instant rice for the morning. It’ll be easy on his stomach. You made him send a picture as proof. After he did, he wanted to know if you’d eaten yourself. You sent a picture of your meal. Suguru hadn’t responded to that text until now.

I’m proud of you for going out. I always worry about you being lonely, his text says. You’re about to roll your eyes at his mother hen tendencies, but then his next message rolls in. Be a good girl for me until I get back. Night, Squid.

The phone slips out of your hand, the edge of it landing painfully on the bridge of your nose. You jerk up from the mattress, clutching at your nose. Why is your face on fire? He…he was teasing, right? Be a good girl for me. They…they were just some words. You shake your hands, trying to dispel the sudden surge of panicked energy. Be a good girl for me. Great. That’s stuck in your head now. Shit.

Goodnight, Suguru, you reply back with slightly sweaty fingers. Sweet dreams.

Eh. They’re never that sweet without you around.

Is…is this…no. No. This isn’t flirting. It’s just…being a friend. That’s something friends would say, right? Yeah. This is just another roundabout way of saying that he misses you. Yeah, yeah. I miss you, too, you send back. Maybe some of Satoru’s sweetness can rub off on your dreams.

Fingers crossed. See? Friendly banter. If he was flirting, he wouldn’t pull Satoru into the conversation, right? I’ll text you in the morning when we’re leaving.

Rolling over on your side, you curl up into as much of a ball as you can and shove your face against your pillow. You have to stop yourself when you realize you’re rubbing your feet together again because you can’t fall asleep like that. Just go to sleep, you tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Over and over and…

…the mattress dips down. One side and then the other. You’re on your belly, arm shoved under the pillow that your face is still shoved into. You tilt your head to the side, eyes still closed, too exhausted to open them. You know these bodies that press up against each side of your own.

Someone’s hand presses against the small of your back and it’s almost like lightning shoots up your spine. In nothing but your sports bra, it’s bare skin against bare skin. But that’s nothing compared to the rush that comes when he leans down to press a kiss to where his hand previously was, so close to your ass, to your…

“Be a good girl,” Satoru quietly sings as the tips of his fingers land on the back of your calf. Your fingers are clenching the sheets. You gasp as his fingers teasingly begin to meander up your legs. Dancing around your inner thighs. “Mm, you’re the prettiest princess in all the land.” Oh. Oh. He’s so close. He’s going to feel how wet you are. “Heh, hell yeah, I am. Are you as pretty down here as you are everywhere else?”

“Satoru,” you gasp before you shove your face back against the pillow.

Another hand splays around the back of your neck, slipping up and around, cupping the side of your face. When he guides you to turn your face back toward him. A thumb runs along your bottom lip, dipping inside your mouth. Just a tease, though. You’re the one that sucks it back into your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” Suguru whispers against your ear. “Sweet girl.” He pulls his hand away, fingers teasingly running along the band of your sports bra.

“Suguru.”

“Let us handle it.”

And your eyes open before they’re closing again. You’re rolling your face against the pillow. As you’re clinging to the last vestiges of your dream, you don’t quite yet comprehend that it’s your hand shoved down your shorts. The line between dream and reality is a blur.

Sheets tangled around your legs are what you imagine what it would feel like to have theirs around yours instead. Your warm breath that fans out across your face as you’re panting against your pillow could be mistaken as theirs while they’re whispering into your ears. The heat inside you is almost unbearable, pitching up into a fervor, only spurred on by the desperate rolling of your hips. It’s like liquid fire rushing through your veins, burning and burning as you hump your hand.

Finally, blissfully, you are overwhelmed by pleasure.

It all crests. Your entire body locks up and trembles. In an attempt to chase after the addictive yet fading sparks, you try to jerk your legs up to get up on your knees, but it’s too soon after your limbs were locked up. Your leg painfully cramps and throbs and you’re fully thrown out of the dream’s clutches.

Clutching at your throbbing leg, you roll over on your back and stare up at the ceiling while you suck in shaky breaths.

What did you do?

What did you just do?

All you can really think to do is shout, “Fuck!”

You’re not there when they return the next day. Just before six in the morning, Sensei called you and said that you needed to report to Kyoto as soon as possible. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re thankful that you don’t have to see them today which only adds to the guilt that’s set in the pit of your stomach like a stone. Why couldn’t this be like a normal dream that fades away before you’re out of bed?

A better question—why did you have a dream like this to begin with?

There’s a Kyoto manager waiting to pick you up from the train station. Before you slip in the car, they hold out a hand. “I’ll need your phone.”

“Excuse me?”

Their eyes seem cold, but you try to convince yourself that’s not the case. You don’t do well with catching on to how other people feel and often mistake cold with cordial. “You’ll be meeting with a few of the higher-ups.” Your eyes widen. And you have nothing to be in trouble for, but your heart rate picks up regardless. “These meetings are expected to be kept private, but your phone is confiscated as a precaution.”

“The higher-ups?” The manager nods wordlessly. “Why?”

“I wasn’t trusted with that information.” The manager steps aside and motions toward the open door. “I’m your escort. Have you had breakfast? They’ve permitted us to stop for something if you need it.”

You don’t take the manager up on the offer.

The higher-ups are already waiting for you when you make it to campus. There are only three in the room, none of them speaking, only sipping at some tea. You recognize Principal Gakuganji, but that’s it. Even worse, they’re seated around a chabudai. They’re not close enough to touch, but it’s still a much more intimate setting than if they were all behind a desk with you in a chair across the room.

Gakuganji states your name and then motions to the empty spot at the chabudai. “Sit.”

The three men introduce themselves—Gakuganji, of course, and the other two are elders of the Zen’in and Kamo clans. You don’t bother to remember their given names. You doubt that you’d ever be in the realm of familiarity with these people and, yeah, maybe you can’t read the room well, but you know they look down on you. Satoru has warned you about elders in clans and those high up on the food chain.

Superiority complex bigger than mine, Sketch, Satoru had said. And with nothing to back it up! They’re weak as hell! Even the geezers in my clan!

Gakuganji is the first to speak. “Yaga should have instructed you to bring your drawings and notes. Did you?”

“Oh. Um. Yes.” You reach inside your bag to pull out the sketchbook. It makes you twitchy when you place it on the table and Zen’in immediately reaches out to roughly grab it and slide it over in front of him. You try not to cringe when you see it slide through some tea that spilled over the rim of his cup.

You’re not allowed to watch Zen’in long. Gakuganji asks, “Is that all?”

“Pardon?”

“I was informed that you had multiple sketchbooks. You’ve kept them since before you entered Jujutsu High, correct?”

Zen’in grunts. “Is there any organization to this?” Your hands fist the hem of your skirt. The disgusted curl of his lip is downright offensive. You keep those pages clean. They’re not cluttered with doodles. You limit one curse to each page. You’ve always had neat handwriting. What more does he expect? “Tch. You’ll have to go through and identify which are with Geto Suguru.”

A cold chill runs down your spine.

“Have some patience, Zen’in,” Kamo snaps. “We’re here for more than that.” Kamo is the youngest which is to say that he’s probably barely hit the retirement age. He smiles at you. “I apologize on his behalf, young lady. Continue, please.” You suspect that he’s meant to be the one you warm up to.

Very suddenly, viscerally, you become keenly aware that you’ve stepped inside a room full of snakes. What’s worse is that a misstep isn’t going to poison you alone. Suguru’s shadow is in the room. You don’t quite understand why your instincts scream danger. Normally, you wouldn’t trust them. Something tells you that you need to right now.

“I threw those away,” you lie. You’re a good liar. With a naturally emotionless expression and flat tone, people have as hard a time reading you as you do with them. “I only had one with me before I became a sorcerer, but I threw it away. It was full and I didn’t see a need for it. It was too messy to be submitted.”

Kamo’s lips twitch. “It’s truly only that one?”

“There are six-hundred blank pages, so I planned for it to last a long time. I have another one that’s more personal. Just to work on my art.” You nearly breathe a sigh of relief. For once, your meticulous nature of keeping a hard line between what you use your sketchbooks for comes in handy. “Here.” You set your smaller, personal sketchbook on the table.” I apologize for not getting it out before. I thought you meant only what I’ve done with cursed spirits.”

Gakuganji takes your personal sketchbook, only briefly skimming through with pursed lips. “I’m sure you’ve been told, but you’re expected to turn in your work to headquarters when it’s full.” You nod slowly. “We’ve been getting feedback about you, not only from Yaga but from other sorcerers. You were the one that helped with the Red Room Curse, yes?”

“Yes.”

Zen’in snorts. “You’re telling me that old urban legend was real?”

“Walk us through your thought process,” Gakuganji requests without acknowledging Zen’in.

“The internet, in the scheme of things, is relatively new. In my studies, I’ve learned that cursed spirits tend to stay away from technology. They usually interact with it only to destroy it. So, the curse using the internet as a tool to curse and travel was a huge red flag to me,” you explain. “Legends and cursed spirits can go hand-in-hand. An existing spirit inspires a legendary monster or the negativity around a legend will create a spirit.”

“Imaginary vengeful cursed spirits,” Zen’in grunts. “We know.”

“Not always,” you correct curtly. His eyes narrow at you. “There’s that old saying…legends have a sprinkle of truth to them. It’s smart to look into these cursed spirits. An imaginary vengeful spirit could have actually started out as a regular vengeful spirit that’s connected to an area or bloodline which is what happened here. Someone cursed a relative in the Taisho era, the spirit bound itself to a red journal, and gained power until it found an easier, faster way to spread itself.”

Kamo hums thoughtfully. “There was another incident last week.” You already know the one that he’s talking about. “Has Yaga told you the outcome of the situation?” You shake your head. “Did the sorcerer on call with you explain what that cursed object was?” Another shake of the head from you. “That was one of the fingers of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, and you were right about the seal being weak. The seal was reinforced.”

“I’m glad.”

“How did you know?”

“The activity of the cursed spirits in the area,” you lie again. Rather, it’s not the whole truth. But you’re worried that the truth could come off as a concern for them.

When you were in the range of that finger, something inside you just…knew. The cursed energy that radiated from it…there was a sense of anticipation. It’d been disorienting because the spirits in the area had the same feeling, too. It left you reeling and jittery from secondhand adrenaline.

These men don’t need to know that you’re feeling cursed spirits. No. Cursed energy. As the days tick by, you’re getting closer and closer to your dreadful theory being proven correct. You don’t want the higher-ups to come to that conclusion, too. You’re not sure what would happen if they thought you could influence anyone with a shred of cursed energy.

“We’d like to offer you an internship of sorts,” Gakuganji speaks up. “Each of the major clans have a storage of cursed objects, tools, and weapons. We do this so everything isn’t centralized to the school campuses, in case of a successful raid. Starting your third year, we’d like you to visit their main compounds and examine their collections.”

You catch yourself before you agree. “I would need cursed spirits to see how they act.”

“That’s not a problem for the Zen’in. We have a pit full of them.”

Again, you bite back the urge to ask this man why the fuck his clan has a pit of curses. “The pacification alters their behavior. It would only be effective if I hid myself from them, but that doesn’t protect anyone else in the compound. I don’t feel comfortable with that kind of risk.”

Kamo and Zen’in burst out in loud guffaws. The sudden noise makes you visibly wince. When they quiet, Kamo explains the hilarity by saying, “You’ll be in compounds with some of the strongest sorcerers in the world. We can handle some low grade cursed spirits.”

Your brows furrow. “Won’t there be children—”

Zen’in rolls his eyes and waves off your concern with a callous, “They need the practice.”

Is this seriously what it’s like to be born into one of these clans? These men are at the highest place in their clans, in jujutsu society. Better than anyone else, they should understand how rare sorcerers are. Why would they be so careless with the lives of their clansmen? You understand that this is ruthless work, and to coddle children can be a death sentence in itself, but this just seems cruel for the sake of cruelty.

Was Satoru’s world this cruel?

“I’d like a partner with me,” you force yourself to politely request. “Please.”

“One of the first years,” Kamo reluctantly agrees. Your mouth opens to protest, but he holds a hand up. “No Gojo will step foot on my clan’s compound. As for the Geto boy, it’s pointless. His control over cursed spirits is as manipulative as your pacification abilities, right?”

“Yaga says that Nanami Kento is showing promise,” Gakuganji adds.

“For once, I agree with Kamo. I’d burn my compound to the ground before I let a Gojo waltz in,” Zen’in spits on the ground, to which Kamo and Gakuganji make displeased noises. “And I’m not adding more fodder to the army of that brat with the Curse Manipulation.”

An offer, they say, but even you with your struggles to grasp social cues knows that this isn’t an option. No one in your position can say no to the higher-ups. With a smile that’s probably more of a grimace, you grit out, “Nanami will be fine.”

Sensei is in the longue outside the room where you met with the three elders. Said men who had been escorting you out, all rush on, leaving you in your teacher’s care. Not that you want to be around him right now. You might be more furious with him than the people you just met with. Sensei is next in line to be principal. He’s essentially a liaison with Lord Tengen. There’s no way he didn’t know what this conversation would be about. You wonder if he’s the one that suggested this.

Maybe you’re overreacting, but it feels like he’s stabbed you in the back.

There’s a lot that you want to say, but you won’t. There’s no point in it. It’ll only send you to your inevitable breakdown. You feel that rumble inside you. But…maybe you can get some answers out of Sensei before that happens. So, you demand to know, “Why are they like that with Suguru? He hasn’t done anything!”

Sensei drops down in a chair, sighing tiredly as he goes. “It’s…not only Suguru. This is a lack of trust in anyone that’s been marked as Special Grade.”

“Why? What did they do that was so wrong?”

“Do you know what it takes for someone to be considered Special Grade?”

“Anomalies in the system,” you recite. His own words, you might add.

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that. The truth is that Special Grade sorcerers are those who have potential to devastate. You’re a logical girl. You can understand that Suguru has access to an army. Satoru, when he’s at his full potential, will most likely be the strongest sorcerer of the modern era—”

“Fear,” you spit. “This is fear.”

“Yes,” Sensei confirms without a beat. “They’re afraid. There’s currently only one other Special Grade sorcerer. Before this generation, the rank Special Grade had only been reserved for cursed spirits. To suddenly have so many, and all at once, it’s only made the higher-ups more afraid.” He hunches over, putting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not fair, I know, but this is how it has to be. That much power comes with certain responsibilities.”

Your fists clench. “I understand that, Sensei, but where’s the trust? All our lives, we’ve been…no one has ever trusted us. We came here because we wanted to be around people like us. We wanted to be accepted. What’s different between our village and here? Nothing. Sometimes, I think it’s worse. We’re not weapons. We’re people.”

“They know that.”

At your breaking point, you shout, “Do they?!” There’s so much more you want to say. I’m not spying on Suguru. I’ll lie on every single one of those pages that I send to headquarters. Somehow, you have the wherewithal to realize that that’s not a smart idea. Sensei is on your side, but not as much as you thought before. He’s chained by the higher-ups. “I’ll make my own way back to Tokyo.”

And you make sure to slam the door on the way out.

As you’re storming out of the building, you throw your hood up and shove on your sunglasses. You’re storming through campus with a trembling bottom lip and tears slowly trickling down your cheeks. You had hoped that it would be dead, but you’re not that lucky. There are a few students, a few more mature sorcerers, and you keep your head ducked down. You’re biting your lip raw to hold back the sobs threatening to spill out.

You make it as far as the outside of Kyoto High’s barrier before you can’t take it anymore and duck off the path. You drop down on a small boulder and cry. Between gasping breaths and desperately trying to wipe away tears that won’t stop, you pull out your cell phone.

Because you can’t do it. You can’t be around strangers. A two-hour bullet train ride is too daunting. Thinking of the smells of meals that people eat to pass the time, of the noise from even whispered conversations that would be loud to your overworking mind, of only an armrest separating you from another person and how that would make your skin crawl. An even worse hell would be a grueling five-hour drive with a manager back to Tokyo.

Please come pick me up, you text with trembling fingers. Not even thirty seconds later, your phone is ringing, but you quickly deny the call. No, you rush to text. Can’t talk, you add before he gets the wrong idea. Crying too hard to talk, you admit. The confession only makes you sob harder, of course. You can put your fist through monsters, but you can’t talk on the phone with your best friend without bawling like a baby.

Okay, Suguru responds back. I’ll take Hong there.

Manta ray back? I don’t want to be around people.

Whatever you want.

Thank you, Suguru.

Through the canopy of the trees, you see the glitter of Hong’s rainbow scales. You’ve managed to stop crying. And you thought that you’d be okay, but seeing the concern on Suguru’s face when he finds where you’ve hidden yourself away just brings it all back.

At this point, it’s not even so much the meeting. This is pure frustration with yourself. It’s shame and embarrassment. Just a little stress and you buckle. You hate this body. You hate this brain. Why can’t you be stronger? Why can’t you push yourself through the pain? Why does there have to be pain at all?

Suguru doesn’t speak. He sits down in front of the boulder, leaning his back against it. You spread your legs, allowing his shoulders to fit between them. He knows your tights are a barrier from skin contact, so he can freely lean his head to the side, resting against the inside of your knee.

Then, Suguru waits in silence.

You need his rock-solid presence but can’t bear him watching you in this pathetic state. It only makes things worse. Normal people would want to be comforted, to be hugged, but that’s just more stress. You can’t talk like this, so you feel stupid. You feel eyes on you, so you cry harder because you’re ashamed that you got here in the first place. If you were back on your campus, you would hide yourself away in your room until you’re calm. That’s not an option here.

And…and Suguru knows this. He knows you. He won’t look at you, won’t acknowledge that you’re breaking down. Why are you so kind? You think of those three stupid, old men. How can you be afraid of someone so kind?

“Su—” you choke on his name. You can’t speak past the lump in your throat. Angry that you can’t even manage his name, you ball up your fist and start banging it against your thigh. Like that can make your body cooperate. Or…it’s punishment. It might be that.

“Squid,” Suguru whispers as he reaches out to gently take your wrist. “I know you’re mad at yourself, but don’t do that. Why don’t I tell you about the cursed spirit we saw? We can make a game of it. I try to describe it. You try to draw it.” You shake your head furiously. “You’re stuck in the loop, aren’t you? Don’t you want out?”

The loop, you call it. The way you’re stuck in an endless cycle of berating yourself for being like this. You’ll never stop unless you have a distraction and his presence isn’t enough.

When Suguru hands you your sketchbook and a pencil, you take it.

There are a lot of tear stains on the paper by the time you calm all the way down, but it does the trick.

“Eh? That doesn’t look like it at all,” Suguru mutters when you hand him the finished product. “I didn’t think I was this bad at descriptions,” he remarks with a chuckle. “Still cool, though.” Slowly, he gets to his feet, patting his pants down to get all the dirt off. He turns around and holds out a hand to you. “Ready to go?”

You take his hand as an answer.

You don’t let go.

Suguru’s eyes widen a little when you thread your fingers through his. The two of you stand there for a minute before he’s squeezing your hand and guiding you back out to the main path. A manta ray spirit is waiting there for you both, low enough that you can step on it. You’re forced to let go of his hand, but you don’t want to lose that point of contact. You’re seated behind him, cross legged. You slip your arms around his waist from behind and press your forehead against his back.

Suguru covers his hands with yours and never stops during the whole ride back.

***

You decided that you wouldn’t tell anyone about the details of that meeting until you absolutely had to. The parts of it that you had to agree to, anyway. You won’t talk about them wanting you to spy on Suguru and keep track of his spirits because you’re not doing that. It’s an invasion of privacy that you refuse to be part of. Unlike the higher-ups that see Suguru and Satoru as tools to be kept track of, they’re your best friends.

Eventually, they’ll notice that you’re not marking which spirits are his. You’ve already started to come up with excuse—you forgot, you’re too focused on capturing the spirit on the page, you had it in your mind when you were preparing them to be sent to headquarters but forgot it. They’ll catch on, probably. After that, you’ll just lie. And it kills you inside a little, but you’ll have to stop marking the date on them. It really will make it harder to remember which assignments were with Suguru and which weren’t.

Suguru knows not to ask you about what made you so upset. Maybe he’ll give a half-hearted try in a week or two, but it’s too fresh. You’ll only get upset when you remember all the negative emotions that came with a breakdown. The only smart thing those old bastards did was to have you meet with them on a Friday.

It’s Sunday now and you feel a little better. Your defiance has helped mute your anxiety a little, you guess. After going the rest of Friday and all of yesterday without speaking, you think you can manage it today. Words don’t feel as heavy. It’s not as much a daunting task as it was before. Just like going to spend time with Satoru and Suguru is a little less tiring. That’s the thing, you love to hang out with them, but it still drains your battery. It doesn’t drain as fast or as much as it would if you were around some random strangers, but down goes that metaphorical battery all the same.

Satoru is already at the meeting place—one of the many koi ponds sprinkled around campus. You don’t want to deal with grass against your skin today, so you spread out a spare blanket from your room. Satoru hums before he’s scooting over to sit down on the blanket next to you.

The two of you are side-by-side, watching the occasional koi break the surface with a splash. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Satoru rocks back and forth, fidgeting with the hem of his pant legs. You’re not surprised when he finally asks the question because you’ve been expecting it. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you answer honestly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Oh.” From the corner of your eye, you see him frown. “Is it…because it’s me? I know I’m not good with…feelings and stuff. I can just fuck off if you wanted to just spend time with Suguru and talk and stuff…”

You smile. It’s small but sincere. “It’s not that, Satoru. If I wanted to talk about it, I’d feel okay doing it with you, too. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to cry again.”

He cringes. “Yeah, I don’t want you to cry, either.” He’s at the edge of the blanket and starts picking at blades of grass. “Is there anything I can do so that doesn’t happen again?”

“No,” you answer honestly. You’re surprised to see him flinch, like you’re hurting his feelings. He usually has thick skin. Ah, but he’s also used to being the answer to everyone’s problems. You don’t think there’s much that he can’t do. “The breakdowns are a part of me. There’s always going to be a potential to have one.” You pause. You’d rather not have him stress over this. “I can try to ask for help before it gets to that point, though. I don’t know—can you extend Infinity to protect others?”

“Ha, no. Not yet.”

“Well…I could use your blackout glasses? Light makes me the most sensitive.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, same.”

“I won’t use them, then.”

“I can handle it for a little bit if it’ll make you feel better,” he mumbles. “I kinda get what you’re going through. I used to get super overwhelmed when I was a kid, before I could control Infinity. I would get really angry, though. There were a few times that I’d grit my teeth so hard that I’m shocked now that my teeth didn’t get chipped. I guess a part of me was scared to cry in front of tutors, so I’d be angry instead.”

You do the thing that Suguru stopped you from doing when you were in the midst of it—beating a fist against your thigh. “I get mad, too. Just at myself.” Your brows furrow. “Oh. I get angry before that point, I think. Sometimes, when I’ve been by myself, I’ve punched walls.”

Satoru’s shoulders slump. You think…is that a sigh of relief from him? “I don’t feel so bad now,” he admits embarrassedly. “The clan was kind of understanding how sensitive I am with lights because of the Six Eyes, but…they never really got how much everything else built up.” He’s fidgeting even more, uncharacteristically nervous. “I never wore tabi socks with my yukata when I went out, in case there was some water somewhere. I hate how clothes feel on my skin when they’re wet. It’s…clingy.”

It’s slowly dawning on you. Curious, you ask, “How do you feel about cotton balls?”

You watch a shudder roll down his spine. “After my first cavity, I made sure I’d never get another one. I almost sent the dentist across the room with Blue when he put those things in my mouth.”

“Eye contact?”

“Ugh, I hate that stupid shit. My old man meets with people from other countries, and they’re obsessed with it. I’m so lucky I’m in Japan.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. “I wish I was around you when I was a kid. The sunglasses idea saved my life and my reputation. Now, people can’t figure out where I’m looking.”

“Reputation? You have one of those?”

“Rude,” Satoru complains and pokes you insistently. “People think you’re all sweet, Sketch. You’re as much of an asshole as I am, y’know. People just forgive you because you have that pretty face and cute smile. It’s the same with Suguru, too. You’re both the golden kids!”

Your heart skitters at hearing pretty face and cute smile, but he included Suguru. It’s just an observation. An exaggeration in your case, definitely, but whatever. “It’s not being an asshole. I’m just blunt.”

“So am I!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, and I’ve also studied other people, so I know what’s too far.” You hesitate. “Usually.” Another pause from you before you finally settle on a reluctant, “Sometimes. But definitely more than you.”

He’s pouting at you. “You could be nice and teach me.”

“You don’t care enough to learn.”

“I care about people!”

“I know that.” Hmm, how do you explain it? “I’ve kinda learned from seeing you interact with Nanami and Haibara that you use that bluntness as a way to help. Put you and, say, Suguru together. You both see the same flaw and point it out. You’re not as nice as Suguru, but you don’t waste time with niceties. They’re there to learn and be critiqued. It’s not a good idea to inflate their egos. That gets people killed.”

Satoru nods enthusiastically. “See? See! You get it!”

You rush to add, “But…you should give them encouragement. It sucks to constantly be told how you’re not doing things right. I know that way too well. Just ask Suguru.”

“You’re way too soft for this line of work, Sketch.”

This day is important, though you won’t realize that until much, much later. But isn’t that how life is? Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that.

Today is the last day that you will see Satoru and Suguru smile genuinely for a very, very long time.