#it probably ended up too detailed but ah well

[gramophoneturtle]

"You Must Become Bunny Buddies."

Or Face True Exorcism. A Totally Serious Task. Or something. I don't know (inspiration).

Anyways, this is where Minamimoto's Birthday picture came from. Now here's the rest of the...original idea. And doodles. There is no explanation, only silliness.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that. 

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing. 

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together. 

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it. 

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,” he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

[hazelfoureyes]

The SafeWord is RadioApple (part 3)

Alastor x Lucifer

part 2 male reader is coming, this was mostly written though so I wanted to get it out; reader referred to with they/them pronouns

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱

Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱

Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱✨NEW✨

Flint and steel 

You made it very clear the two demons had to get along when it came to whatever you three were doing. Which they did! …A great job at pretending to do! They could’ve probably kept it up, until Lucifer tried to humiliate Alastor at a party. Luci says Alastor doesn’t know how to satisfy you? Well Alastor is happy to show him otherwise. Too bad you’re not there….

「Warnings/Promises: DomAlastor x SubLucifer, Reader is not there when it happens, GN reader, choking, hands free ejaculation, anal, bondage?, praise kink, begging, Luci the cocksleeve, Luci the pretty little bird, Alastor tops in every sense, angelic blood kink?, biting, scratching, tentacles briefly penetrate, In every universe Angel appears when he’s not supposed to, Anal Smut sponsored by Ozzie’s Lube; Keep your lust ring happy©」

Minors DNI 👮 ✋

Alastor explained the best he could, that he had wanted to humiliate Lucifer and got a little carried away. In his defence, he had genuinely forgotten he had spoken to Charlie.

“Would I have stayed otherwise?” He asked.

That wasn’t the point.

“I don’t mind your unfounded rivalry. But if you drag this,” you gestured to all three of you, “into it again, we’re gonna have a different conversation.”

His hair bristled. Lucifer opened his mouth, ready to say something mocking, but you cut him off, “That goes for you too. Enough.”

Lucifer pouted, it seemed wholly unfair he be lumped together with Alastor for anything.

Well, not anything. He was finding situations he was quite alright with having Alastor join. 

“Peace. Give me peace. Can you do that? Just dial back this bullshit?”

No. “Of course. I’ll be the perfect gentleman as always.”

Absolutely not. “Not a problem! I literally did nothing wrong, so, haha, super easy.”

“Fair enough, Luci.”

Alastor’s edges sharpened. Nothing? He’d been canoodling you in every public space the hotel had. 

His body relaxed again. Ah, he understood. Alastor was, to his distress, bothered watching Lucifer make public displays of affection with you. It sent out a message to others that Alastor was being undermined in an established relationship since one knew the details, or that perhaps things had ended already and no one had been informed. That was how it could be interpreted. If direct attacks were not acceptable, then he’d just have to make a louder message. 

Alastor’s smile unnerved you. You knew well enough to read his subtle changes in facial expression.

But even with your skill in knowing Alastor better than most, you hadn’t noticed the change in him immediately. It was small at first. A hand on your hip when you were standing side by side. Quite nice.

Pressing into the side of you when sitting on the sofa. Lovely.

A kiss good morning in front of the others. You’d woken up in the same bed, already said good morning. Okay… strange. But appreciated.

Pulling you into his lap in the lobby. “Alastor. An innocent look if he ever could make one. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged, “What ever do you mean?” His smile widened.

How could you complain?

“You’re unusually physical.”

Hands rubbed at your hips, making you nearly jump from his lap, “You don’t like it?”

He knew very well you liked it. He could tell by how much hungrier you were becoming at night. Lucifer now a nearly daily interloper, helping Alastor unravel you under the canopy of his bed.

And it was true. Suddenly having both men showering you in physical affection was creating a new problem entirely.

Alastor’s mouth on your mouth, fingers on your body. Lucifer’s hips snapping against yours, claws gently scratching down your back. You fell asleep satiated and woke up hungry. 

What you didn’t see, brain fogged with the stimulation, was how both men glared at each over of your body.

How when you entered a room they were in, Alastor would use his shadows to reach you before Lucifer could. No, you didn’t notice how suddenly Lucifer was always flagging you down and pulling you away from Alastor to discuss hotel topics. 

You were quite impressed, a week of peaceful days and lustful nights, not a jab or barb to be seen. 

For you, that is. Alastor would spin his mic too quickly, knocking off Lucifer’s hat. At least once his shadow tendrils outright tripped the king of hell as he descended the stairs. Luckily no one of importance was around to witness the brief and only mildly destructive battle that followed. 

Not that Lucifer was an innocent party in any of it. He dropped the lobby chandelier on Alastor. Charlie is convinced there's something wrong with the bolts anchoring it to the ceiling now. 

When he saw Alastor was just behind him to enter a room, he opened his wings, knocking Alastor backward.

Their favorite form of competition though remained you. Who could illicit the deepest moans? Who made your eyes roll back the most? 

Something imperceptible to them, that you were well aware of, was how every night they inched closer and closer. While before you had an expanse of bed to explore between the two, by the end of the week you could barely roll over without brushing against one of them. 

You felt quite accomplished. No brawls (that you witnessed), no overly cruel comments (within your earshot), no power plays (that you could perceive). 

You said as much to them, everyone gathered in the common area around the bar in celebration of the 100th guest to move in. A modest party, most residents weary of being caught in the crosshairs of Alastor’s and Lucifer’s bickering. 

“A toast. To… common ground?” You smirked, happily the thing shared between the two.

“To shared interests.” Alastor offered.

Lucifer, rarely one to drink, eagerly rose his drink, “To my Kitten!”

Alastor’s glass shattered in his fist. “Oops. Husk?” 

It should have been an omen to you. But you laughed it off, a little broken glass wasn’t so bad considering the alternative; them choking each other out on the bedroom floor.

Perhaps the week's events had you too relaxed, quickly finding yourself drunker than you could recall in recent memory. You weren’t alone though. Lucifer’s tongue felt numb in his mouth, the effects of three apple martinis. And while Alastor was a little past tipsy, it was hard to tell with him. He was managing to keep his composure for the sake of one upping Lucifer. 

Angel approached both men, “I don’t know which one of yous is the top in this fucked triangle but y’all okay with me takin’ them to their room? They are wasted.”

Alastor opened his mouth, but Lucifer spoke quicker, “Not at all! Thank you Angie.” 

Alastor’s head whipped around to face Lucifer, “You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“Ha! Said the man who broadcasts his across the Pride Ring. Not that anyone listens to that trash.” Lucifer inspected his fingernails, pretending to not care.

“Very funny coming from you. The tacky circus master who can’t even keep hell safe.” A tinge of static broke through. 

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

The sound of stations flipping through an AM radio frequency, Alastor’s annoyance clicking through his speech, “Now that I think about it, you can’t keep much of anything at all. Where is your estranged wife, anyway?” 

Horns materialized, breath fiery, “You wanna talk about relationships? You needed to tap me in to satisfy your woman.”

All anyone saw was Alastor grab the lapels of Lucifer’s jacket and yank them half way down his arms before both men descended into a pool of shadow that then disappeared entirely.

Lucifer stumbled back from Alastor, struggling to free his arms in the makeshift restraints Alastor had made. His jacket was folded down to his elbows, too tight to roll off and too far down to slip back up. “Just admit it. She needed me because you can’t meet her needs. Your relationship is incomplete without me!”

Alastor’s hands were on his neck before Lucifer could react. Squeezing, Lucifer gasped, eyes immediately losing focus. 

His tail wound onto Alastor’s thigh, spade tip tapping twice.

Like a dog trained to a dinner bell, Alastor instinctually loosened his grip, his face not hiding his dismay. Lucifer moaned at the lighter pressure.

No, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. He had other plans for how to dominate over Lucifer.

Shadow tendrils burst from the floor and tossed Lucifer to the bed, arms still trapped on either side of his chest.

“It seems you need some correcting on how well I can satisfy. Quality over quantity, my liege.” He loosened his bowtie. “And a reminder on who pulls the strings. You were allowed into my bed by me.” His hands came to Lucifer’s hips pulling him up onto his lap, back still on the bed as his bottom settled onto Alastor’s crotch. “You were allowed to enjoy my darling’s company by me.” Alastor leaned forward to hover over Lucifer.

The king of hell was flush from a combination of alcohol and shock, eyes glossy and big. His chest heaved slightly with every breath, mouth hanging open. Alastor brought a hand back to his neck, “Everything you cherish with your kitten was granted to you by me.” His hand began to squeeze, Lucifer’s tail returning to twirl around his thigh.

And there it was. Perhaps the most delicious sight Lucifer could offer Alastor; absolute surrender. Eyes closed, Lucifer fought the urge to roll against Alastor with his hips. 

Yes, he hated the radio demon. But, well, hate was so close to passion. And passion could be enthralling. Lucifer had never been choked in a setting that wasn’t literal danger. He imagined for a moment how you felt, how you looked at him when Alastor fucked you while gripping your neck. It looked like it felt good. He wanted to feel it, too. 

But he couldn’t possibly ask. Alastor would laugh and say no. Lucifer wasn’t sure his pride could survive that. 

Alastor had been trying to find ways to soften his approach to Lucifer, knowing very well that if he could endear himself to the devil like he had Charlie he could increase his influence seven fold.

This wasn’t quite what he had in mind. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to toss him to the bed, it was a strange reaction to Lucifer’s insolence and moan. How many had heard the great corruptor moan like a bitch? How many had pinned him down beneath them? His cock was twitching to life in his lap as he stared down at Lucifer.

It was not what he had planned, but it could be just as effective. More so, even. 

Lucifer stared at the back of his eyelids. Alastor stared at Lucifer. Both men made a silent decision.

Alastor’s hand tightened a little more, Lucifer grinding his ass against the other. Replying in kind, the radio demon leaned further over Lucifer, folding the smaller man in half as he ground down into him. 

Lucifer didn’t attempt to stifle his moan, hands flexing where they were stuck, wishing desperately to hold onto Alastor’s arm that was gently increasing pressure still.

Every roll of his hips made Alastor’s breath hitch, the reality of who he was going to fuck into his mattress catching a fire in his veins. 

 Tap tap went his spade tipped tail on the inside of Alastor’s thigh. 

“Open your eyes, your majesty.” Alastor leaned down, nose touching nose.

Lucifer opened one eye first, then the other. His pupils were blown. Alastor pressed his erection down against Luci’s own, making the other man clench his teeth.

“Were you listening?” He asked Luci.

A grin, “No.”

Alastor growled, hands both going to Lucifer’s pants, pulling them and the ducky boxers down to his shoes before peeling everything off and letting them fall to the floor. 

Luci’s cock slapped up against his stomach, leaking already. He glared, hearing the radio demon laugh. 

“You were listening a little, I think.” His hand touched the sticky clear liquid, a strand following his finger as he pulled it back. 

“Are you going to take off my jacket?” Luci wiggled.

“Hmm, no.” 

He threw his head back, blonde hair losing its usual coiffed shape. 

Alastor slotted himself again between Luci’s thighs and began to unbutton the other man’s shirt. “There’s been something on my mind for awhile now.” He said, opening the shirt and revealing his pale chest. “Do you still taste like an angel?” His teeth sank into the shoulder muscle, Luci’s knees coming up and wrapping around his waist. 

Dizzying, the rush of pure angelic blood into his mouth made Alastor weak. Golden liquid, sweet as honey and aromatic like fresh sage, dripped down Luci’s skin. The pain was light, Luci’s body thrusting into the empty space between their bodies. 

“Touch me,” Luci meant to make it a command but it came out more of a plea. 

He briefly considered saying no again, but let his hand wrap around Lucifer’s cock. He didn’t move though, instead letting Luci thrust in and out of his fist.

Alastor was aware how vocal Lucifer was, but he was a little surprised the normally difficult man didn’t even try to hide how good Alastor was making him feel. 

Luci was sighing, body unable to stop itself from pushing up and into the warm hand he had been offered. The tongue lapping at his shoulder, Alastor hungry for him, was making him glow. He always enjoyed feeling wanted, being praised, and no praise was better than seeing Alastor’s demonic deer antlers grow above him.

Another bite, higher up now on his neck. Before, just working his shaft inside Alastor’s hand, he now was dragging the head of his dick inside of the grip. Sticky and wet, Alastor’s fingers providing ridges that bumped over his erection.

His own fingers were gripping the blankets, unable to do much else. 

With a snap and a small puff of smoke, Lucifer took to the task of preparing himself for Alastor with a small bottle of lubricant. Freshly lubed fingers shifting under his body and stretching down to reach his hole. His thrusting slowed, focus now on prodding gently into himself. The other demon hadn’t noticed, attention devoted to lapping up every errand drop of blood.

With his arms restrained he couldn’t reach well, only a knuckle of his middle finger making any headway.

“I can’t reach.” He whined. Alastor perked up, looking at his face and then down between his legs.

“Ah,” he stared, Lucifer’s finger pathetically entering himself an inch or so. “When did you get lube?” Luci didn’t reply. “Hand it here.”

Lucifer looked a little surprised, which insulted Alastor. “I’m not a monster. I fully intended to prepare you.”

When all Luci did was squint, Alastor shrugged, leaning back over and licking at the dripping blood. He felt Luci’s body jump, one of his summoned tentacles now pressing cautiously into him. 

Lucifer helped along the stretching, fingers rubbing the thick lube along the tendril as it pushed in an inch and pulled back a half, in two inches, back one. 

This was progressing much better now. Luci’s hands relaxed back at his sides, eyes closing as he tried to let his muscles go slack. Deep breath in, deeper breath out.

Alastor listened and felt the smaller of the two funnelling all of his energy into easing his hole open. 

“All this effort for little ole me?” He nipped Luci’s skin, no blood, just for fun.

Lucifer hissed, “This has literally nothing to do with you.”

“Funny, feels like it does.” He tightened his hand around Luci’s jumping cock.

“It’s the alcohol.” A blush he could feel radiating off his face spread from ear to ear. His mind kept flashing back to you. Would Alastor make him moan his name like you did? A prayer into the sheets? A twitch. Alastor’s body always seemed to know exactly where to go on yours. With a little practice, could he be brought to pleasured tears too? Luci moaned into Alastor’s shoulder. 

“More,” this time it was a command, and one Aastor was happy to oblige, living shadow pushing deeper into Luci’s body. A groan, long and loud. The burning stretch made his dick weep into Alastor’s hand and onto his stomach. 

Was it enough? Ozzie’s advice echoed in his head, “Better to prepare than tear!” a slogan his branded lubricant proudly declared. 

His hips began moving again, every thrust up into Alastor’s hand met with a down thrust onto the tendril. Alastor’s hot breath over his neck, clawed hand on his member, tendrils deep in his ass. He felt like he was being swallowed whole by the deer demon, and it felt heavenly. Did heaven know such sensations? How could he suggest Alastor has the 8th sin?

Alastor was patient, uncharacteristically some would say, sighing into Luci’s skin as his angelic blood moistened his chin and lips. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He had been within biting distance for weeks now. If he had done this while they were mingling around and in you, it could have been seen as a part of the sex. He lowered, pulling Luci’s vest and shirt open wider so he could sink his teeth just above his nipple. Luci gasped, another moan following it.

The tail around his leg tightened, slithering up to his still clothed erection.

“Were you going to get naked or just fuck me through your pants?” Luci felt he was ready, hole soft and pliant. 

A hum into his chest, “Was that an option?” 

“Fuck you.”

“That is the topic of discussion, sire.”

Sire

Luci whined, eyes rolling side to side, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

Alastor laughed, “You’re full of jokes tonight. Actually funny ones for once, too.” With the speed of a man with nowhere to be, Alastor leaned up and settled onto his legs. Belt undone and pulled off. Button, zipper, he sat up to drop his pants and underwear. Luci craned his neck up trying to watch, face still pink.

His hand came out and motioned to Luci to hand it to him. The small bottle of lube rolled from Luci’s fingers and down to Alastor’s knee.

Alastor poured a generous amount onto his manhood, hand pumping it along his shaft and reddening head. Luci’s heart was pounding, arms tugging at the jacket that kept him bound. He considered going full demon and ripping the jacket to pieces. 

But then his eyes darted down, feeling pressure and heat as Alastor was lining himself up.

Alastor met Luci’s eyes, an unspoken, ‘ready?’

“Go ahead, Allie.”

With no cup to shatter, Alastor’s hands pulled Luci’s legs up and open by the ankles and snapped his hips with one motion into the devil’s slick ass.

Luci yelped, eyes watering. “Asshole!” He cried.

“Much better.” Alastor pulled out nearly entirely before thrusting back in. His eyes clenched, even with the prep he found Lucifer to be nearly painfully tight and insufferably hot. He stopped moving for a second, trying to let Lucifer adjust.

Luci was pouting, fingers wiggling. “Release my arms.”

“No.”

He tried to kick Alastor, but the grip on his ankles was too firm. Alastor began to move again, dragging himself out to the head and then thrusting back in. A different sensation than he was used to, but not a new one. 

Lucifer was whining, every thrust back making the king of hell release a pitiful noise. Alastor looked down to the tail on his thigh before picking up his pace. 

He dropped Luci’s legs, hands taking his thighs.

“Slower.” Luci groaned, “Slow down.” Alastor stopped, staring at Lucifer. He brought his foot up and pressed it under Alastor’s chin, “I didn’t say stop.”

Insolence.

Alastor rolled his hips forward, so slow and so slight Lucifer’s own hips began to thrust back onto him. 

“Just do it right for fuck’s sake” Luci was getting annoyed. He wanted to be fucked, not fucked with. Could the two not be separated from each other? 

“You’ve forgotten your manners,” Alastor felt the pull of his body to move, to thrust, to feel that cycle of pleasure let him relax into a simpler mental space. But, well, where was the fun in just chasing physical pleasure? He had the king of hell whimpering in front of him. In that exact moment, he was at the top of the food chain in hell. He wasn’t ready to tumble off that precarious point just yet.

Luci bit his lip, blood dripping down his chin, “Please.”

Alastor bent down to lick the liquid gold from his king’s neck and followed the trail up to Lucifer’s mouth, “Please what?” Taking the opportunity, Lucifer captured Alastor’s mouth with his. At first, Alastor stilled. Sex was one thing, but kissing was an entirely different beast.

But then the blood found it’s way into his mouth, and he pushed his tongue against Luci’s. A fight for dominance like always, both men seeking to feel more than the other. Luci clenched, making himself whine into Alastor. Legs lifting up to wrap around Alastor’s waist, Luci used the other man as an anchor to pull himself on and off Alastor’s too gentle cock. If his arms were free, he’d grip those tall and expressive ears on Alastor’s head.

He found a pace that suited him, refusing to beg. 

How was Lucifer still managing to take control? Even bound and receiving, he was the one in charge. Alastor had to tear his body from the sweet taste of Luci’s kiss and reclaim the lead, cock more deeply entering Luci now.

Luci didn’t need deep, he just needed to feel that pressure and pull at his still tight ring of muscle, g-spot not far past his entrance. He knew exactly what he needed and felt allowing Alastor to do anything else was just a waste of time.

But you never seemed to fight or argue. You just relaxed under Alastor. If you were there, you’d stroke Luci’s hair and tell him how pretty he looked on his back.

He decided to stop trying to get the best of Alastor, and let Alastor show him exactly what he promised; how well he could satisfy.

Legs hooked, Luci let his body be rocked on the bed with Alastor’s direction. It’d been so long since he felt so full. 

Alastor felt Lucifer relax, soften. He heard his breath start to become heavy and loud. Looking between them, he watched the other’s dick grow harder still. 

“Good boy,” he offered. Luci whimpered, twitching around Alastor. Oh, of course. A praise kink. Alastor managed to stop the laugh bubbling in his chest, willing to meet Luci somewhat halfway. 

Could he praise the man he was hoping to choke to death not that long ago?

A test, dipping his toes into the water. “You look divine with your legs open, your majesty.” 

Luci moaned, erection hopping up.

“And you sound delicious,” Alastor let a hand run down Luci’s chest, small beads of yellow blood forming in the wake of his claws. A hiss, Lucifer’s stomach muscles tightened from the combination of sweet words and painful scratch.

 Alastor began to pick up his pace, resting his weight on his hands at either side of Luci’s head to angle himself. He adjusted his hips slightly until Lucifer jumped, eyes rolling back.

Mounting pleasure brought sweat to Luci’s brow, his sounds becoming harsher, raspier. “I’m close, I need your hand.”

Alastor tutted, “You don’t need anything.”

Tears streaked Luci’s cheek, “Are you fucking serious? Do you- ungh,” a moan, a swear, “Fuck. I’ll beg.”

The deer demon, tall and imposing over Lucifer, wanted nothing more than to make the King beg. “No begging yet. You don’t need anything else to orgasm than what I’m giving you now”

A slight panic, Luci crying at what he was sure was just another act of cruelty. But as Alastor moved in him, swollen head rutting against his prostate, he felt his orgasm building to an unstoppable place. Alastor was mindful, only entering enough to keep Luci going.

Claws gripped the blankets, Luci’s hips instinctively thrusting into the air, he fought the urge to hold his breath. “Say it,” fast and low.

Alastor cocked his head, not sure what Luci was asking for. A deep blush took over the entirety of his pale face, “Tell me I can— nngh,” 

“Ah,” Alastor giggled, “Cum, Lucifer.”

Alastor slowed his hips, a moan escaping as Luci’s balls and asshole tightened and trembled.

Luci came over his stomach and chest, waves of pleasure racking his body. 

It was a sight Alastor was admiring; sweaty and bloody and shaking. It looked like Lucifer was melting. His smile widened, eyes darkening as he picked up his thrusts.

“W-wait,” Lucifer’s legs tightened around Alastor.

Alastor dropped to his elbows, chasing his own high now. Eyes open and flitting around the image beneath him. Flush cheeks, sweaty skin, Lucifer was panting and moaning. No double tap yet.

“You sound like a bitch in heat, your majesty.”

Lucifer’s face screwed up, body overstimulated and sensitive.

“Now, you can beg.” Alastor sat back up, pulling Lucifer’s ass into his lap and thrusting up, dick buried to the hilt as he let Luci’s soft walls massage at his member.

Luci’s hands tensed, looking up his body to where they both connected, Alastor’s cock bulging his lower stomach, “For what?”

“For me.”

Alastor’s face was covered by shadow, eyes glowing red down at Lucifer. Tears still drying, eyes watery, Lucifer shook, “Please,” he felt embarrassed, somehow even more naked than nude. Alastor was still nearly fully dressed, a fact Luci’s mind was just registering. “Please cum, Alastor.”

His head fell forward, eyes wide and smile shaking. The King of Hell, the greatest of the sins, was begging for Alastor to dirty him. Alastor had done it, euphoria flooded his brain. His nails cut into the soft flesh of Luci’s ass as he pounded into the smaller demon.

Lucifer was gasping and grunting, softening cock rolling around in his own seed. He just wanted Alastor to cum and let his body rest, “Cum already, please cum inside me. Please, Plea—,” Luci was being used as a toy, just a cock sleeve for Alastor and he liked it.

He felt Alastor’s cock grow inside him before his hips slammed into him once, twice, three times then bury himself as deeply as he could. Luci felt the warmth spreading in spurts, Alastor still rocking slightly without withdrawing any. He couldn’t see the other demon’s face, red and black hair shrouding the expression Luci so desperately wanted to watch.

Lucifer’s body went limp, Alastor pulling out already half soft and sitting back on his legs. 

Pitiful. Soft and leaking, if Lucifer was a king Alastor felt like a God.

Finally, Alastor felt like he’d bested Lucifer, truly topping the most powerful demon in his own domain.

Meanwhile, Lucifer didn’t care. He felt closer to you, feeling Alastor’s cum drip out was a shared experience. He wanted to see you, to nuzzle into your neck. The only way to enhance his afterglow was to have it reflected off your smile. 

Alastor was undoing his shirt when the door creaked open. 

“So did you get the venom out of your system or…?” You slurred, “My bed is too empty. Can’t sleep.” 

Alastor’s head near snapped with how quickly he turned, Luci propping up on his elbows and leaning around Alastor to stare wide eyed.

Alastor considered launching himself directly into the sun. Lucifer wondered if he opened his wings fast enough if he could launch Alastor directly into the sun.

“They uh—- tried to cuddle but I didn’t wanna die so I brought them here… maybe— maybe a worse idea.” Angel was slowly closing the door. “You should really lock these doors.”

Unholy fire singed Angels face before shadows slammed the door shut with such forced the walls shook.

You curled up beside Lucifer, nuzzling into his neck, “Pretty baby Luci. You’re like a fancy little bird.” In your foggy state of consciousness, you were immensely proud of how the two had taken your request so seriously. 

Alastor’s hand came to cover his face, watching through his fingers as Lucifer looked lovingly at you, who was already half asleep.

“Under the covers, dear,” he gestured at you, “You, shower.”

Lucifer nodded and began wiggling down the bed so he could stand, you rolled until you hit pillows. You both in unison sighing, “Clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[eubybubble]

“you could live a hundred lifetimes, and never deserve that boy”

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader

summary: he's always there when you need him, but he's nowhere to be found at the Yule Ball. while searching for him, you come across something heartbreaking.

word count: 1.5k

pt. 1 | pt. 2

Everyone around you knew. Even the teachers, but you. Enzo would just smile when you nudged him and called him the “best friend you could ever have.”

Even after all these years, it amazed you that whenever you were craving something sweet or were moody, he could pull out candies - your favorite ones, specifically. He'd just shrug off your questions, “Y/N, you're not that special. I have a sweet tooth too, you know? Could've carried ones with you as well so that we can switch roles for once,” he playfully rolled his eyes.

Enzo was one of Hermione's close friends. Maybe that's why he cared so much about school. Or vice versa. But the thing is, he was the top student, and you were just above average. You often forgot to do homework, which played against you, but hey, you had Enzo who would give you a copy of his homework and whisper the right answers to you. But if it were others... “Hey, mate, can I copy that too?” Mattheo looked pleadingly. “Sorry, gotta maintain academic honesty,” he got his notebook back and winked at Mattheo.

“Guys, wanna go to Hogsmeade this Saturday?” you asked cheerfully. Everyone exchanged awkward looks, and it was silent for a while. “We were planning to go out as couples, and some of us got homework to do,” Blaise explained softly. “Yeah, don't hold a grudge against your amazing friends, cara mia; Blaise is only telling the truth,” Theo grinned at you.

“I can, I have nothing to do anyway,” Enzo didn't lift his eyes from books. “Wasn't it you who just complained about Numerology class's workload-“ Draco was confused, but Enzo immediately looked up, staring at him intensely. “Really? Don't think so.” And so, you found someone to go with.

As you two went out, he noticed that you didn't have a scarf on. Your nose and cheeks were red, and you tried to hide your face in your jacket. He just furrowed, but then took off his scarf and wrapped it around you. “Why'd you go out like that? You'll get sick,” he asked coldly. It was unusual. You felt uncomfortable as you tried to return the scarf to him. “Ah... owl tore mine apart; I was planning to buy new. Sorry, let me give it back to you.” He stopped you. “It's okay.”

Your primary goal for today was to buy a dress for the Yule Ball. As you two went into every shop to see if they had something decent, never once did Enzo complain. After two hours, you finally found the perfect one. It was a beautiful shade of orange, which turned to pink towards the end. It was long and had a sweetheart neckline. It just enhanced the beauty of your clavicle, shoulders, and waist. Probably the most beautiful detail was an artificial flower on one shoulder. You were blushing hard as you saw his mouth was agape.

“You look beautiful.” You blushed harder, turning away to face the mirror. The dress was bought successfully, and you two headed to Three Broomsticks. Having placed your order, you just sighed.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Thanks for sparing your time to help me today,” you smiled softly.

“Uh, it's really nothing. I enjoyed spending time with you.” It was strange. You were alone with Enzo so many times, but it never felt so awkward, or rather nervous. He seemed to be braver with compliments today.

“Have you invited someone to the ball yet?” “Nah. Mustering up courage to ask someone special. And you? I mean, has someone asked you yet?” He smirked.

“No... I don't really know why I bought that dress if no one asked me...” To tell the truth, you were utterly embarrassed. You thought he'd start laughing at you, but his smile widened.

“Maybe there'll be someone special in the end. Don't lose hope.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Easy to say when you're so handsome and popular that everyone sends you love letters. He nearly choked from the sudden outburst of laughter. And with that, the conversation topic changed.

The ball was tomorrow, and you still had no pair. Maybe it wasn't meant to be? You groaned as you threw the pillow across the room. “Do you want me to die or?” Pansy was amused at this sight. “Pans, just leave me alone,” you mumbled into the bed.

“Are you still upset because of that ball? C'mon, it's a silly thing, just go with me, you don't need any pair!”

“Easy to say when Draco asked you the first day.”

“Maybe you're right. But you're still going to have fun.” she winked. “Now, let's go to breakfast.”

You two walked into the Great Hall, observing everyone worrying and exchanging shy looks. You could feel someone's gaze on yourself. You turned your head and saw Enzo. He was smiling. A big box of chocolate and a note with flowers lay in front of him.

“You look so sour... Don't tell me no one asked you yet?” He laughed.

“Shut up. And who's that for?' You mentioned things laying on the table.

“Uh, these. They're for-“

He didn't get to finish his sentence as someone tapped your shoulder. It was a tall boy from Ravenclaw. You saw him on quidditch team. He was handsome and smart, given that he's from a blue house. He smiled nervously. “Hey... you're Y/N, right? Would you mind going to the Yule Ball with me?” So straightforward. Yet you were dumbfounded as blush slowly creeped up your face. You just nodded, and he happily went back to his table, giving you a bouquet of chrysanthemums.

You were beyond happy as you shoved the invitation in your friends' faces to brag. However, everyone was throwing worried looks towards Enzo who had his jaws clenched. “Is everything okay? Why is everyone so quiet?” “Nothing. I'm happy for you.” Enzo smiled for a second before standing up and leaving the Great Hall with his belongings. “I have to go; Numerology's starting soon.” Everyone tried to ease up the atmosphere, but you still felt weird.

Yule Ball. Oh, everyone and everything was so amazing. You put every effort into makeup and outfit today. That Ravenclaw boy, or Henry, which turned out to be his name, accompanied you from your common room to the Great Hall. Everyone was having a great time, and you enjoyed the evening. You made your way to your friend group and noticed how beautiful everyone was. There were couples everywhere, but you couldn't see one person. Lorenzo Berkshire. Slowly pulling Pansy aside, you tried to speak loudly enough for her to hear you over the music. “Hey, where's Enzo?”

She looked at you weirdly. “Oh, he just got somewhat sick. He decided to stay in the dorm.”

“He WHAT? Maybe I should check up on him..." You didn't let Pansy finish as you made your way out of the Great Hall.

A million thoughts rushed through your head, making it harder to concentrate on one. Enzo didn't like to be ill. He was rarely ill, but every time, he'd get so scared of being left alone in the dorm. No one could joke about it since it had a stinging backstory. But you stopped in your tracks as you overheard loud talking and laughing. No one was supposed to be in the halls of Hogwarts now.

"She agreed so easily; one could think she'd have many suitors, given that she's such a bitch." It was such a familiar voice.

"Mhm, but now you have to sleep with her. Isn't it a bit hard, Henry?"

"Nah, she'd fold after the right amount of firewhisky."

“I doubt it. But if you win the bet, 100 galleons are yours." You could only stare into space in disbelief. Someone betting on you? It felt so wrong, so disgusting. So your worth was 100 galleons. Tears started rolling down your cheeks as you tried to be as quiet as possible. But you were hurt, you didn't even care anymore. You just ran in the opposite direction, wherever the feet would carry you, until you bumped into someone. Books fell from their hand.

"Hey, what the hell-" He stopped abruptly. It was a familiar voice. Not Henry, but Enzo.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He seemed perfectly healthy.

"Enzo?" You blinked in confusion. Your face was puffy with tears, and his heart clenched at the sight. "Weren't you ill..."

As he picked up his books, he just sighed. "No... I just. I didn't want to, that's all." Indeed, he wasn't dressed in a fancy suit. He was in his favorite sweater and jeans. "But it isn't about me. Why were you crying?" He asked sternly. "It's nothing... I just..." time passed, and you couldn't think of a single excuse.

You just sighed and sat on a nearby staircase. "What the hell is wrong with me, Lorenzo?" He wasn't used to you saying his full name. "Huh? Who told you that?" He tilted his head curiously. "No one. I was wondering why no one could love me? And why did the only boy who invited me to the Yule ball turn out to be a dickhead who bet that he could sleep with me?" He nearly choked as his face turned dark with anger. "Huh. So he did that?" He got absorbed in his thoughts. You could see his features becoming more sharp as he did so, so you tried to switch the topic.

"So? Why didn't you want to go? Don't tell me you got rejected by that girl?" You teased him. "That girl is you." He just blurted it out.

After seconds of silence, you started laughing. "Nice one, Berkshire. Bet you drooled over me all those years."

"I'm being serious." He averted his eyes. "Ever since I met you the first year, I've always wanted to be your friend. But this changed during the fifth year. I started wanting more than friendship. I am lost in your eyes; in this dark world, they're the only light that keeps me going. I can listen to you ramble all day long. I love all your habits; I want to be there when you cry and when you laugh. I find myself wondering how does your hand or lips feel like. I wanted to be with you, I wanted you to notice me. But all my efforts seemed to be futile." He blushed, hiding his face in his palms. "Is confessing always that embarrassing?”

“Is being confessed to always feels that amazing?" You asked quietly. You've had a crush on Enzo for a long time, but you settled for unrequited feelings. Every sign he gave was shut down by you. After all, he’s kind to everyone, right? Turns out, no. His eyes locked with yours, and he tilted his head, getting closer to your face. He seemed to be asking for permission, and when you didn't push him away, he finally leaned in.

a/n: planning 2nd part with hcs (lorenzo as a boyfriend), yes I’m THAT obsessed with him. anyway, english isn’t my first language so sorry for any any mistakes! you can drop other requests with other characters in my ask box

[rottingparts]

Confessions

[Mirage x Human!AFAB!Reader]

Summary: Mirage wants to take you out, and not with a sniper.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MINORS DNI!! Human/Alien Robot Relations, mentions of clit, grinding, size difference, bruising, marking up (but not on purpose) (please let me know if i missed something! Sometimes my brain thinks it typed it out or i just miss it in general, it's not on purpose i promise!)

A/N: There is no use of pronouns! Reader is AFAB, but is written GN. This was supposed to be like, multiple characters separately, but this got a little long and i didn't wanna write the other two this long as well, so I'm posting this one by itself. I also kinda wanna do one with potentially a male reader?? Give me your thoughts🔫 -Rot

It started with a ‘I know a place’ and ended with you hopping into Mirage and going to wherever it was he wanted to take you.

The two of you wound up in some secluded area, on a hill, overlooking the sunset below you. Mirage’s door opened and you scooted out. You looked at the scenery before you and gasped. It was astounding, beautiful, and most definitely breathtaking.

“How do you know about this place?”

Mirage waved his hand, “Ah, it’s-” He seemed to not be able to come up with anything, “Noah told me about it.”

“Of course,” You smiled at Mirage, “I should have known you wouldn’t know any cool New York places on your own.”

Mirage feigned being hurt, touching his chest and giving a slight gasp. “I’m trying to spend time with you, and you say that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and sat down in the grass, looking at the pink and orange sky above you. You lied down and closed your eyes. You sighed and heard movement beside you. You peeked over and saw Mirage sitting beside you. He was watching you, thinking. You didn’t know about what, but you could see he was thinking hard.

“Y’know…” Mirage started, shifting where he sat, “This is probably not a good time,” he rambled on, “stop me if it isn’t,” he put one of his servos up, “but, you’re really beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about you- I think the team gets mad with how much I talk about you-”

“Mirage-”

“Now, I understand if you don’t think the same thing-”

“Mirage!” You almost shouted. He stopped. “I think- I feel the same.”

“You think you do?” His optic ridges furrowed. He sounded worried.

“No! I know I do.” You smiled at him. “Um, this is embarrassing-”

“Oh trust me,” Mirage shook his head, “It isn’t.”

You paused, “No, it is. I think about you a lot. A lot more than I, uh, probably should.”

Mirage, growing intrigued, gave you a curious look. “Oh? What do you think about? I need every detail.”

Your eyes widened. “No you don’t. All you need to know is I feel the same, and maybe then some.” You were fidgeting, playing with the grass beneath you.

Mirage’s fingers met your face, and he gently, very gently, tilted it towards him. Your eyes met his blue optics and your stomach dropped. A heat pooled between your legs and you tensed. ‘Now is not the time,’ you shouted at yourself. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking, but you gotta go first.” He inched closer to you, “I don’t want my thoughts to be too weird.”

You nodded, “Okay,” your palms hit your thighs and anxiously rub down them. Mirage was still keeping you looking at him, and as soon as you closed your eyes and inhaled, Mirage was quick to ask you to keep your eyes on him. You looked back at him, “For starters, I think about you a lot at night. I think about your voice, your… servos?” You asked, pointing at them, and he nodded, “I think about what they would feel like against my skin.”

Mirage’s ego was being inflated at a speed unknown to man, “Well, you don’t have to wonder any longer.” He smirked. “I’ll share now!” He seemed excited to tell you after you shared your thoughts, “I think about how soft you would be. Your skin, oh especially your lips-”

You, without thinking, interrupted him, “Would you like to figure that out?”

Mirage cocked an optic ridge at you, “Which one?”

“Both,” You whispered, voice barely audible. Mirage was stuck. Did he think he’d get this far? Not really. “You can kiss me…”

Mirage was on you instantly. Your warm hands went to his face and cupped it. His lips pressed to yours and your stomach turned with excitement. You pulled away, faster than Mirage would have liked and he pouted at you.

“No one is gonna come up here?” There was a desire in your eyes that Mirage could not get enough of. As soon as he shook his head, you nodded. “Can I-” You motioned towards his lap. He moved back from you, sitting directly on the grass and patted his thigh. You crawled onto him and started to kiss him once more.

Mirage grabbed at your waist, dragging you up his thigh slightly, causing you to moan. Mirage took this as a chance to happily stick his tongue into your mouth. You gasped, eyes widening and fingers tensing on his face.

Mirage’s tongue explored your mouth and you rocked on his thigh. That elicited another moan from you and you felt Mirage smile. Mirage moved his leg, picking it up and dropping it, causing you to fall with it as you tried to grind against him. You whined and pulled away from Mirage. He gave you an innocent look, acting as if he didn’t just do that.

With brows furrowed, you huffed at him, “Mirage,” You whined out his name.

“Oh~” He smiled, “I can definitely get used to hearing that!”

“Come on! You’re not gonna leave me high and dry are you?” It was your turn to look at him innocently.

Mirage was melting under your stare. He could have sworn his spark stopped. “How do you wanna do this?” He was folding already. “I mean, I think you’re too small for my spike…”

You bit your lip, thinking, “I could-” You couldn’t articulate your words properly, “I want us to both feel good.”

You saying that was all Mirage needed to hear. Before you knew it you were half naked, and Mirage had his spike out. Your shirt was still on, but your bottoms were thrown by Mirage to the side. You had asked him to not destroy them. He proved to be a good listener.

Mirage positioned you against his spike. He leaned back, keeping you steady, and watching you as you started to move. Since you were quite a bit smaller than Mirage, and knew you could not feasibly take his spike, he had decided it would be best for the both of you if you just would grind against it.

You started to move, pushing yourself along the spike. As you reached the head of it, your thighs would tense together and you could feel Mirage twitching under you. You would slide back down his spike, your clit rubbing against it. You let out a loud moan and cried out Mirage’s name.

“Fuck,” You whined as you hand grabbed for Mirage’s forearm, keeping yourself upright. Your legs were going to be sore the next day. But at that moment you did not care. As you pushed yourself up and slid your way back down Mirage’s spike again, you were getting closer and closer to release. “Baby,” You whimpered, “I’m gonna-”

As soon as you said ‘baby’ Mirage was close to losing it. His hips bucked upwards and you were sure the noise he made was going to be heard a mile away. His grip on you tightened and you came hard and fast, all over his spike. You did not stop grinding against him though, not until Mirage came himself.

You watched as Mirage’s optics seemed to fizzle out, he seemed to be short circuiting momentarily. When he whimpered you were sure you could orgasm again just from that alone. Transfluid came from his spike and your grinding began to slow.

“Don’t-” Mirage’s optics were blue again, and staring straight at you, “Don’t stop.”

“Mirage,” Your voice was soft as you were growing tired, “I’m too sensitive.”

Mirage seemed to realize his grip on you was not as soft as it once was and he let go, letting you slide down onto his leg. When you felt him lift your shirt and you heard him let out a little gasp you looked down at your side.  You noticed a bruise forming, one that resembled a not so small hand, and you felt yourself snort.

“This isn’t funny!” Mirage was not laughing, “I hurt you!”

“Mirage,” You reassured him, trying to steady yourself on his thigh, “it’s a bruise, it’s gonna heal. The way you held me was kinda hot, anyway.” Mirage was conflicted. “Let’s just hope the others don’t see it…”

Something clicked, “Wait, if they do see it, they’ll know-” Mirage looked ecstatic.

“Mirage! I am not going to show off this bruise so everyone knows that I was with you.” You shook your head. “But-” You put a finger up, “If someone asks I won’t deny it…”

[ineffable-suffering]

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

[koishiro]

# - 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 📍

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : originally planning to sit through hours of pain by the hands of a blond tattoo artist - who you know is very well off limits - bakugo finds a way to calm your nerves

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : smut

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 : aged up!characters, oral (f!receiving), doggy style + missionary, SLIGHT nipple play

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : tattoo artist!bakugo x f!reader

masterlist | bnha masterlist

“Fucking - shit!”

You'd started just after a late lunch, and the day was drawing to a close. This was your second sitting too; there was a lot of detail in this one and you'd probably be back anyway. A couple of hours was all you could handle, realistically – otherwise you'd stand up from the couch and fall straight back down again.

The first time you tentatively opened the door, you were pretty nervous. Everyone had been raving about the place, and it felt intimidating – not in a grimy way, but more like out-of-your-depth. It was so clean – spotless even – professional and artistic. There were some incredible pieces of art on the walls and retro tattoos everywhere. The other artists were hipster types with beards, rimless glasses and flesh tunnels in their ears.

This time you weren't quite so unnerved. It was busier when you returned for the second appointment, but livelier too – three or four artists working on clients, everyone talking, the artists laughing and their subjects trying not to for fear of moving.

You stood on a chair as he applied the stencil to your lower leg. You watched from high up as the blond carefully positioned it just-so, his head bowed over his work, his own tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt, creeping up his neck. He blew a lock of blond hair away from his face as he straightened, telling you to lie face down on the padded massage couch.

It hurt like hell on the back of your calf. More than the first time, when he'd worked around the side and over your shinbone. You distracted yourself with your phone, checking your Instagram account, emails- anything really. You noticed last time that he hadn't been much of a talker. You tried to engage in conversation, curious about the man who was leaving permanent marks on you and while he was perfectly polite, it seemed like he didn't want to chat.

"Smacks on that bit, huh," he'd said, as you took a break for a moment to adjust your position. You had done your best to stay still, but joked as you started that you'd have to make a real effort not to kick him in the face. After a while you had to fidget, because you had held yourself up on your elbows and were starting to tire.

"Too right," you sigh. "Ah well, it'll be worth it in the end”

He'd laughed with his colleagues but didn't seem to want to make small talk with you. As you lay back down, you glanced backward, appreciating how he looked as he concentrated on changing the needle in the tattoo gun. You went back to your phone, quickly squashing your thoughts. His girlfriend had been there, spending the last of her lunchbreak with him. And you had your own man at home. You were quite happy. Nothing wrong with appreciation though, you thought. No-

The sting on your leg made it hard to think anyway, so you looked around the room. One of the tattoo designs on the wall depicted a buxom young woman bent over a sailor's knee, taking a spanking, her heels flailing in the air. You wondered who'd drawn that one, and entertained the faint hope that it was one of yours. That you liked the idea.

The afternoon was drawing in and you'd almost finished. The other artists had completed working on their clients and all but one had disappeared for the afternoon. The read-head dude in the drainpipe jeans.

"Oi Bakugo, you almost done there?" Red-headed guy called over.

"Yeah, just some highlights and a bit of shading to go. You head off. I'll lock up”

"You sure? Thanks man. She doesn't look like the mugging-for-the-takings type," Red-head-dude grinned at you. "In fact she's been as quiet as a mouse”

"I didn't shut up first time round," you smiled back. "Nerves I guess”

"Ah, you got no reason to be nervous now though," smiled your artist. "Pro now, aren't ya? See you in the morning, dude," the man you now know as Bakugo, raised a hand in farewell to his colleague, and the bell on the door rattled as he closed it.

You laughed quietly.

"What?"

"You, taking the piss out of me. Just because it's only my second tattoo, and you're covered…”

"I wasn't!" he protested in mock horror. "Besides, these have been collected over years”

It was odd, you noticed, but as the needle burned on your skin, you felt Bakugo’s gloved fingers as he pulled the skin taut. He was gentle, but where his fingers made contact, you could feel the same burning sensation as where the needle buzzed. Like it was transferring pain. How strange that it should feel that way.

"Where'd it hurt most on you, then?" You asked, feeling a need to fill the silence of the shop.

"Hmm..." he tried to recall. "Probably the same place – or ribs, I think. That's always sore”

"It's transient though isn't it," you mused. "I'd still rather do this than be pierced. This hurts less”

Bakugo laughed. "I guess that depends on where you're pierced though. And piercing's quicker. Come on then, own up... Where?"

He was more talkative when there was no-one else around. You chuckled and dropped your head between your arms, onto the couch.

"Oh, now you're asking!"

"Ohhh... One of those, was it?"

"Yup. It's weird, sitting there fully clothed from the waist up, while someone's bending over your nether regions with a fucking great needle”

"Oh… Oh! Shit! I thought you were gonna say nipple!"

"Erm, no. I'm told that's bloody agony, although I do kinda fancy it. No, this was… well… they call it a VCH" you were pretty sure he'd know exactly where that went.

"Takes all sorts, I suppose. You don't look the type," he said.

"Is there a type..? I didn't keep it anyway. It was really annoying. What about you?"

"Oh.. um.. no. I stick to ink"

You could see that. Bakugo wore long army type pants but you could already guess that his lower legs were covered, as were his arms, and you noted that there must have been something across his shoulders at least. Still, that seemed to be par for the course – you never met a tattooist that didn't have shitloads of the damn things themselves.

"Okay.. just about done here. You did well – no wriggling. Wanna look?"

You sat up slowly. you go and look in the mirror, and decided to get moving. you dropped your feet to the floor and stood up, but it must have been too fast. Your head spun.

"Woah, easy there!" He grabbed your shoulders before you’d fallen, and you found yourself blinking up at his concerned face. You were too wobbly to trust yourself and just stayed there for a moment, half on the bench, half standing, with Bakugo supporting you. You felt like an utter twit. And you felt acutely aware of his proximity.

"Smooth huh?" You giggled weakly.

"It's okay, don't worry. It happens a lot. Even people who have had loads of tats still get cocky and overdo it”

He had strong hands. Big, and warm on your shoulders. You shook your head to clear it.

"You okay yet?" He still looked concerned. Fucking hell, you wished he wasn't touching you right now. Sure, he'd spent the last couple of hours touching you, but that was different. You were weirdly giddy. Like being slightly drunk, you thought. Your mouth ran away with you and you nodded toward the spanked girl on the wall, blurting out:

"One of yours?"

He withdrew, and looked sheepish. You eased yourself off the bench, standing on you’re own. Shaky, but standing.

"Ah. Ha.. Yeah. Yeah, that's mine”

He was rummaging in a cupboard behind the counter. You could see just a mop of spiky blonde hair, and then his eyes, as he rootled around.

"Don't normally do this but I reckon you could use it..."

He had found a small bottle of Jack and poured a slug into a disposable cup, passing it to you. With a shrug, he poured one for himself. You weren’t sure why – it wasn't like he'd got the shakes, was it? No, definitely not – his hands were as deft as ever as he covered the new tattoo, gently wiping away excess ink and blood, carefully wrapping your leg with clingfilm. You wished you were as steady.

You narrowed your eyes at Bakugo over the rim of the cup as you sipped gingerly.

"Don't give much away, do you?"

"Huh?" he was baffled.

"The… You know, the girl. So you distract me with hard liquor rather than risk me asking about her,"

Fucking hell, that'd be bravado from the whiskey, plus the close call from nearly hitting the floor. In a detached sort of way, you could imagine your sensible side looking down at your recklessness and sighing.

Bakugo bit his lip, which made something low down in your stomach twist, so you downed the rest of the booze because it seemed like a better alternative than staring at him. You’d almost forgotten the sting in your leg in favour of an ache - Yep, you thought, that kind of ache – in your nipples, and between your legs. So bloody typical, really... here you were, no makeup, ratty old jeans with one leg rolled up, socks with holes in, in front of an inexplicably attractive man who'd just spent a good couple of hours making you suffer.

You almost spat it straight back out again when you heard him say quietly "Yep... Gotta love giving a good spanking. Don't get the chance much these days, the girlfriend doesn't go in for it, but…”

Jesus, jesus, jesus. You didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to imagine being bent over his knee. Didn't want to imagine how the texture of his clothes would feel against your bare skin. Or what his hands would feel like. Oh fuck, big hands. Big, clever, rough hands. Bakugo must have seen how your skin flushed, how you licked your lips, because he stepped closer to you again. He took the plastic cup from you. You backed up, the small of your back bumping into the couch.

He followed. He was just an inch or two from you and you were sure he could see how your breathing had changed. You looked up at him.

"Shame," you murmured.

And Bakugo moved like lightning, his mouth crushing yours, one hand flying to the back of your head. You opened your mouth for him, and his tongue pushed, hard and insistent. You whimpered at the sensation of being so wanted, and he kissed you even harder than you thought possible, growling as he pushed one warm hand under your shirt, tugging roughly at the cup of your bra. He tasted of whiskey, with the slightest hint of cinnamon. His tongue was so hot it almost burned.

The couch banged up against the counter as he pushed you against it. His fingers found your nipple and twisted, hard. You squealed into his mouth and he laughed, pulling away just enough to catch a breath.

"Like that, is it? Thought so..."

You just looked at him, your swollen lips parted, breathing hard and fast. He held your gaze, his clear vermillion eyes unflinching. He was smiling, a small wry smile that spoke volumes. He knew what was happening just as well as you did.

You moved your own hands up, slowly, not daring to race. Twisted your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Pulled him down again, and kissed him again. Slower, at first. This was the chance you’d given him – a moment to withdraw that he'd not taken. They both knew that they shouldn't have even been in the same room alone together, not really. But it was between the two of them, now. He hadn't run for the hills. Your blood sang with the thrill of realisation; he wanted you, right now. You moved your other hand up the side of his body, enjoying the warmth of him, but now you slipped it under the waist of his shirt, to feel his patterned skin. He groaned into your mouth and his tongue slipped deeper, taking over.

His hand fell to your jeans, pressing right there between your thighs, cupping you. The heel of Bakugo’s hand was hard against your clit through the thick denim and you were breathless. Jesus fucking christ on a bike... You dared to daydream, and here it was – a fantasy from your own faithless imagination. Your mind was spinning, so close to losing all reason and functioning on instinct alone. Fuck… The smell of him!

He tore at your t-shirt, dragging it over your head, and scrabbled at your bra. 99% of men you’d ever been with were useless with these things, you mused, and yet suddenly it was on the floor with your shirt. He unbuttoned your jeans and shoved them down, then caught himself mid-action, easing them over your sore leg gently. It put his head right next to your pussy, covered only by a pair of unsexily practical plain panties. He breathed in through his nose, his eyes closed... Then looked up at you with a downright mischievous look playing over his face.

"On the bench," he directed. You hopped up, your legs swinging like a small child. He'd found one of the low rolling stools, and sat down in front of you. He pushed your knees apart. A wet spot darkened your cotton panties, and you blushed despite herself. You weren't quite sure of his intentions until the blond brandished a pair of scissors at you – and you must have looked worried half to death, because he cocked one eyebrow: "Safe hands, come on..."

Before you knew it he'd snipped the underwear away. You were exposed completely.

He dipped his face towards your pussy and breathed you in again. You leaned back on the couch, supporting yourself up on one elbow, wanting to watch his face – but automatically closing your eyes in shocked bliss as that searing hot tongue licked you from bottom to top, spreading your lips apart, giving away just how wet you were.

"Fuck," you breathed. You were incoherent – now wasn't the time for intelligent conversation.

His thumbs held you, spread wide, and he lapped at your clit, drawing it into his mouth, nipping unbelievably gently with his teeth. You shuddered. You opened your eyes and saw him watching you, and he was smiling again. He dipped back down and this time his tongue pushed into you. Your back arched and you grabbed the back of his head, hissing at the extremity of the sensation.

You were disbelieving of it. You’d never known a man to do this... to eat pussy with such clear enjoyment. The sensation was amazing – the warmth of his breath, the smooth slickness of his tongue on your hot flesh, the scrape of his barely noticeable stubble on your thighs a harsh counterpoint.

You couldn't help but push yourself against his face, wanting more, murmuring words that didn't make any sense. You yelled out as he pushed a finger into you, teasing you, knowing exactly where to touch. He added another and you gasped. You could hear yourself! Christ, you were so soaking wet that as his hand moved, your cunt made obscene noises. Worse, you loved it. He lifted his face, still finger-fucking you with three fingers now, his thumb running over your clit.

"I think you needed this, didn't ya?"

You could only groan in agreement. Oh, you definitely did, but you sure as hell hadn't expected it. Bakugo laughed that quiet, knowing little laugh again and pinched your clit with one hand, while fingering you faster with the other. You squealed and your hips lifted, wriggling as you felt an orgasm building. You were amazed – it wasn't normally so easy to make you come – and you managed to gasp out a warning just before your whole body stiffened and shook.

He dragged his fingers from your pulsing cunt and strummed your clit hard, making you wail aloud as your pussy squirted hot liquid over the bench. He exclaimed, a mixture of surprise and delight, and pushed his fingers back into you more slowly now, dragging them over the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading your juice over his hand. Your head dropped back to the bench, your chest heaving. You were spaced out and stunned – you didn't think you’d ever cum that violently before.

"Holy fuck," you murmured, more to yourself than anything. Then you realised what a mess you’d made. "Sorry! Ah shit.. Dammit..." you sat up, about to scout around for paper to clean up. He laughed at you and grabbed your arm.

"No chance, babe," he smiled wickedly. "Get over here. Right now"

Bakugo helped you stand, shakily, and led you towards the chestnut-brown buttoned chesterfield sofa that waiting clients would normally loll on. You half tumbled onto the cushions and landed, naked, staring up at him. He flung his own shirt into a corner and tugged his jeans over his hips. You stared dumbly, drinking in the sight of his lean, inked torso. The patterns, words, pictures, life stories you supposed... they carried on downwards, over his hipbones, to meet the tattoos that ran up his legs.

His cock was rock-hard and he stroked it, not taking his eyes off you.

"Get on all fours," he said. You complied, your forearms resting on the arm of the sofa. He sat slowly behind you, running his hands over your ass, grabbing it and spreading you wide. He abruptly buried his face in your pussy, tongue diving inside. He came up for air and gasped, "Fucking hell, you taste so good..."

You felt him manouvre behind you, his hands still on your ass, his thumb occasionally drifting over the pucker of your hole, and then suddenly he was inside you. His cock slid into you smoothly, opening you up, stretching your cunt, and he kept on going until you were utterly full of dick. You squealed as his cockhead nudged your sensitive cervix. He withdrew achingly slowly, letting you get used to the sensation, and then rammed himself home hard and fast.

You felt his hand twist into your hair, tugging your head upwards, and arched your back. The pain of the pull on your scalp was exquisite, ebbing and flowing as he pounded you from behind.

"That's it, babe," he murmured. You could hear the smile in his voice. "Come on, lemme hear you”

You couldn't help yourself – you were squeaking in pain each time his dick slammed into you, but you adored it. You heard the smack of skin on skin as his hips met yours, and your cunt was making deliciously obscene wet sounds.

"Please," you gasped out. "Please, please, please..."

Bakugo didn't cease his movement, groaning in pleasure. "Ah... Please what? Do you want more? Fuck, your pussy's so damn tight round my cock... Don't ask me to stop now”

"No, not stop,". you could hardly get your words straight. "I want to see..."

"Oh!" He understood you breathless gabble, and pulled himself free of your tight hole. The air felt cool on your lips and you savoured it briefly, before he pulled your hips back and helped you lie back on the couch. You looked up, wanting to watch his expression as he pushed himself back inside you.

He did so slowly, his eyes closed, long lashes brushing his cheeks, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You squeezed his cock, once, as hard as you could, using your pussy muscles to show him just how hard you could work it. His eyes flew open and it was his turn to cry out.

"Fuck, babe... Do that again and I won't last five minutes”

You met his gaze, and held it as he began to move, more slowly now. He bent forwards and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth – then released it and moved his mouth to yours, kissing you, opening you up with his tongue as he opened your cunt with his cock. You dared to tangle a hand in his hair, now, and moaned your need into his mouth.

He sat back, and pushed his thumb between your lips, wetting it, then dragged it over your clit, watching your face for a reaction. You tensed and a red flush began to creep over your chest. A faint smile played over his face and he moved faster, fucking you a little harder, massaging his thumb in circles around your stiff clit, flicking it hard and feeling your body respond.

Your eyes had drifted closed as you enjoyed the sensations, but he wasn't having that.

"Look at me," he said softly. "I want to watch your face when you cum for me”

Christ. Just those words were enough, but he sped up, moving faster and harder. You hadn't been fucked like this for a long, long time – with a lot of guys it was all over in minutes, but he was too damn good for that. His thumb pushed your clit against your pelvic bone and you screamed. Your entire body was rigid as you came, your cunt muscles bearing down hard, trying to force his cock out of you. He pushed hard and deep into you though, prolonging your agony, and true to his word he was watching your face, only pulling his cock out right at the last second – and you wailed, loud and unbelieving, as your orgasm peaked, your cunt walls squeezing tight, and again – again! At some level you marvelled – a rush of hot fluid soaked your thighs as you squirted.

You sagged backwards, breathing fast, and put an embarrassed hand to your mouth.

Bakugo tugged it away, gently, smiling wryly.

"Oh no. Not gonna have you feeling all self-conscious about that. That was... amazing”

And he slid himself inside you again. He was close to coming, so close, you could see it in the lines of tension on his face. It was your turn to encourage him.

"Come on then," you murmured. You cupped your tits with you hands, tweaking your nipples hard, offering him a target – you expected him to unload all over your chest, but he growled, grabbed your hips, and surged forwards. You looked him in the eye and was met with a piercing, almost animal stare as he roared with the release. You felt the heat of his cum deep inside, as he punctuated his final few thrusts with words.

"Holy… fucking… hell," he uttered between clenched teeth. He sat up, and swiped at a sheen of sweat on his forehead. A worried look flashed across his face and your own smile vanished – oh, god, now he'd realised what he'd done, hadn't he?

He leaned down and checked the dressing on your leg. Then raised an eyebrow at you.

"Don't look so worried, it's fine," he grinned. He unfolded himself from the sofa and started to dress, throwing your clothes over for you to do the same. It was weird, you thought, that you could expose your most private places to someone, do the filthiest things, and then only afterwards did you feel awkward.

Bakugo passed you a glass of water, which you gulped greedily at, still slightly out of breath and still slightly disbelieving. "I've… well, I have to... Get home, you know..." you blathered.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "Really. I'm not saying anything" He kissed you, softly, slow and sweet.

"Message me though, when you want to book in again. That leg piece will need a couple more hours work”

—

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

[shxnigxmi]

[𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓!𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄] [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

That one scene from El Dorado that’s popular on COD TikTok right now—

c/w: giving ghost the gawk gawk (not detailed or specified), vulgar language, price is a cheeky devil, ghost is actually a tease beneath all that brooding and sadness— idc argue with the wall

🔞 MINORS/FEM!ALIGNED DNI 🔞

—

“Lieutenant!”

You gasped when you heard Price call for Ghost, the very same Ghost who’s covered in kiss marks courtesy of you, red and purple bruising spanning from his jaw to his neck and all the way down his chest and stomach. The very same Ghost who was kiss-drunk and delirious by your very loving and devoted attention. The very same Ghost who’s cock was all the way down your throat.

“Ghost!” Price called again, waltzing deeper into the armory. Fuck, you couldn’t get caught like this! Insubordination and fraternization were the start of a very long list of punishment awaiting you both if Price happened upon you two. I mean sure, you and Ghost had opted for the furthest and darkest back corner behind the wall of tactical vests, but still—

With another quiet gasp of surprise you pulled your mouth off his dick —much to his chagrin— and sat up quickly. He was quick to follow—

“The Captain!” You cried as you roughly pushed him back down to lying on the ground with a hand on his face. You felt only slightly bad about the impactful thud and loud pop in his back.

“Ow!” Ghost winced but sat up again, a cheeky grin on his face and eyes full of mirth that hung behind a cloud of lust within those rich brown irises.

“What’s the Cap gonna think if he finds you like this with me?” You panicked, of course you knew Price wouldn’t be the one to punish you both for this act of fraternization. And he wouldn’t really rat you out either.. maybe you were being a bit over dramatic but he could still dish out a harsh punishment if he felt like it was needed. And he was probably looking for Ghost because Ghost wasn’t supposed to be here with you right now. Especially not doing this— getting a quick blowjob from you in the back of the armory.

You narrowed your eyes as you clocked the arrogant and pleasured look on his stupidly handsome face.

“Lucky Ghost?”

“For the love of.. just, just— JUST—!”

You scrambled to get him into a decent enough state to stand before your Captain, pulling his mask back down, followed by his shirt to cover the marks on his skin, tugging up his boxers and jeans— harshly pulling up the zipper which he cried at when his junk was pinched at the expense of your rush.

When you heard Price getting closer you stood and pulled him up to his feet with a shocking amount of strength. Then, you were brushing his shirt and pants off and pushing him out of the dark corner— just as Price rounded the end of the corridor and spotted him.

“Ah, Simon.. there ya are.”

“Sir.”

Now, Price had known Simon for a long enough amount of time to notice the little things about him. And he was curious about the disheveled nature about him. It was well hidden to the untrained eye, and maybe to those not close enough to Simon to be able to pick out his tells. Like the way his jeans hadn’t been buttoned—

“You were due to the training fields at 1800 on the dot.”

“I apologize, I was looking for a few handhelds to teach those rookies a few things.”

“Hm.”

—Price decided not to comment on it.

Instead, he grinned. Then he was turning on his heels and making his way back the way he came. Simon watched him as he paced back down the corridor, then he subtly tensed when Price turned his head to look at him over his shoulder as he walked.

“Your button’s undone.”

Okay maybe he did want to comment on it and tease the Lieutenant just a little, the Sergeant too if his assumption on who was in Simon’s pants was correct. Simon flushed beneath his mask as he hurriedly rushed to button his pants back up, but his embarrassment was quickly doused and amusement filled it’s place at his Captain’s next words.

“And tell [Y/Name] he was meant to be on inventory with Gaz. And will now be doing it by himself as a consequence.”

“I’ll make sure he gets the message.”

—

a/n: ghost is so husband 😮‍💨 just wanna kiss him! hold him tightly and love him forever! ❤️

[onigiriico]

Kazui audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify / Youtube ]

I cannot believe my hs philosophy class came in handy as I was translating this. Thanks Milgram your references never fail to astound me

Aaanyways you know how it is,, feel free to send an ask or hit me up on Twitter if you’ve got any questions or other feedback re: this translation etc 💪 (<- sincerely hoping that Twitter DMs still work these days)

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(door opens)

E: I’ve kept you waiting, Kazui.

K: It’s been a while, Warden-kun.

E: Yeah… It has been.

K: Things have gotten pretty tough inside the prison, but… well, you’ve probably heard all about that from the others already, haven’t you?

E: Yeah… I heard that you protected other prisoners from Kotoko. I owe you my thanks.

K: That much is only natural. However… she really is strong, isn’t she? I mean, I’ve experienced some fights myself, but [going up against] a woman like her was a first.

E: Hm… Is she strong enough that even you can’t stop her from doing harm?

K: Well, in cases like this, it’s generally the heavier person who ends up winning. After all, if she really does have proper killing intent, I can’t afford to let her injure anyone. It’s difficult, isn’t it.

E: Is that so…

K: I was afraid that it’d come to this from the very beginning. There’s a lot of young kids here, too. It’d be hard for anyone to keep a decent mentality in a situation like this.

E: …You’re pretty rational.

K: I wonder. Maybe it’s because I’m used to violence. Even so… I couldn’t make it for Shiina-chan. I feel responsible for [what happened to] her.

E: …

K: Well, rest assured, though. As long as I can move, I’ll be protecting [the others]. After all, it’s pretty much just me who can fight her on equal terms.

E: Mikoto, too.

K: Ah… yeah. Like back when he went out of control, right? I can’t quite read him, though… If both of them were to attack us, it’s possible that we’d suffer a total defeat. 

E: A total defeat…?

K: If that happens, this prison game would probably come to an end as well. All of that depends on your judgment, right, Warden-kun? Who will be forgiven by you and who won’t be…

E: What are you trying to say?

K: If at all possible, I would like you to choose a method that will not get any more people hurt. That’s what I’m saying.

E: So you’re telling me to forgive you?

K: (laughs) Oi, oi…! Don’t look at me like that.

E: I’m the Warden. If I forgive you, I forgive you. If I don’t, I don’t. There’s no other factors to it.

K: (sighs) Wouldn’t it be okay? I mean, this situation with prisoners being hurt wasn’t what you wanted either, was it?

E: …

K: Just pretend that you’re looking at our sins, and make your judgment with the protection of the prisoners in mind. After all, nobody can read your mind – so that much craftiness would be fine, don’t you think?

E: Hmph. That’s a very “you” kind of pretentious solution.

K: It’s the most natural conclusion, isn’t it? Do you think it’s a sin to lie in order to protect people?

E: That would be Kant.

K: Kant?

E: A philosopher who stated that lying is inherently a sin, no matter the circumstances.

K: Huh…

E: Apparently, even if your friend is being chased by a murderer and the murderer asks you about their whereabouts, you shouldn’t lie, according to Kant.

K: That’s ridiculous. If you can save someone by telling a lie, that’s what you should do.

E: However… You killed someone with your lies, didn’t you?

K: … Ah… You forgave me, didn’t you? Aren’t you being especially strict towards me?

E: Am I?

K: Mmh, it’s obvious. You said you would figure out my murder by watching the footage of my mind. Is this the result of that?

E: You were unfaithful, right? That’s stupid.

K: Hmm…

E: The reason I forgave you was because I was lacking details. I still don’t understand your true feelings or how things got to that point, either.

K: I see.

E: It was extremely hard to understand. Even with all of that poetry, though, your self-absorbed nature was more than obvious.

K: Ohh my… That’s quite the sweeping generalization, even though you forgave me.

E: It’s a personal dislike of mine. People who act based on their sexual urges like that, that is.

K: It’s personal?

E: Yeah. That’s right.

K: That’s strange. I did think that, despite being neutral as a Warden, you had some things you dislike, but…

E: …

K: Isn’t it unusual to openly reveal a personal dislike as a personal dislike?

E: You’re splitting hairs.

K: Seems like you really disliked my crime… I get it! Maybe it was because you’re so young, which is to say… …

E: Hah? Stop staring at me so openly. It’s disgusting.

K: …

E: …! (punches him)

(clattering)

E: (sighs) Now I feel better.

K: — Ow…! What are you doing all of a sudden…?!

E: It was an instinctive reaction. Don’t take it personally.

K: Would you stop just punching me in the face without hesitation? … (sighs) Anyways… that’s how it is, huh? That’s how it is…?

E: Hah?

K: I didn’t even consider this a possibility… Personal impressions sure can be scary.

E: If you say any more things than this that I don’t get, I’m hitting you again.

K: Geez, cut out the hysterics… Hmm, if it’s like this, that explains some things, though. I don’t have kids, but I’ve heard that this is what it’s like.

E: Hey. Stop blabbering on while looking like you know it all. It’s obnoxious.

K: Hahaha! But you know what? You’re wrong.

E: …? What are you talking about?

K: You’re wrong.

E: …

K: You said I was unfaithful – in other words, that I cheated or committed adultery of some kind.

E: Yeah. That’s what I deduced from your footage.

K: It’s not true. It didn’t even turn into infidelity. It didn’t turn into anything like that. For me… In my case, you see.

E: … You’re married… You’re a married man, aren’t you?

K: Hm? Yeah, that’s right. Oh, right, I never told you, did I?

E: You’ve taken off your ring.

K: … Right… I did take it off, huh. Right…

E: Yeah.

K: Mh. … I do carry it with me, though. See? – I was forgiven. My feelings were validated. So… maybe that means that I don’t have to do this anymore? Thanks to that, I was feeling better when the second trial started… I really do feel sorry about that. Towards my wife.

E: If that ring is a symbol of punishment to you… There really is nothing that could possibly be more cruel towards her.

K: Mmh.

E: Marriage is something that both partners want equally, isn’t it? It’s something you can’t do if only one person wants it. Deciding to treat it as a punishment all on your own… You’re making a mockery out of it.

K: I really am. Ah… She must have thought so as well. My wife, that is.

E: I’ve said this before: You’re a liar. Those lies have killed a person.

K: (sighs)

E: I forgave you. While I wasn’t sure yet, I thought that it didn’t seem like you killed her directly, and with all sorts of things taken into consideration, I judged that your murder was not a sin. However. That doesn’t mean that I’m praising your nature as a liar.

K: Yeah. I believe you’re right about that.

E: In short – between love and hate, [I would say] I hate you. Remember that.

K: … I get that.

E: Huh?

K: I despise myself for lying, too. Being a liar, you see – it’s painful.

E: Heh. Then just–

K: So I’ve tried to change! I’ve tried to change. I have tried to stop lying to myself and others!

E: …

K: I’ve confided in others. I’ve tried to be myself! I’ve tried to just be the way I was born!

E: …Hey, Kazui–

K: It’s not my lies that killed her. She’s dead because I stopped lying to her! If I had just kept lying- She wouldn’t have died…!

E: Kazui…

K: I can’t live unless I lie. That’s how I was born… I’m pathetic, aren’t I?

E: (sighs) I really can’t seem to understand you.

K: …

E: Just when I thought you weren’t letting out any of your true feelings and cleverly hiding your actual emotions… Now here you are, drowning in self-loathing like this.

K: (weak laugh) An old man in unstable condition… that’s not something you’d wanna see, is it. Sorry about that.

E: You know, about Kant…

K: Ah, the one who said you shouldn’t lie even if your friend might get killed.

E: From his point of view, if your friend dies because you didn’t lie, there’s no causal connection between the two… or so I’ve heard.

K: I don’t think so, though…

E: Even if you don’t lie, your friend might survive. And if you do lie, your friend might end up dying on a different occasion. That’s the reason why you’re supposed to always tell the truth.

K: …That’s convincing.

E: It’s not really.

K: Yeah, it’s not.

E: It may not be, but… I thought that for someone who has failed in their attempts to be honest, it might be a [saving] grace so they won’t end up doubting honesty in its entirety.

K: …

E: I still don’t know what happened, but… isn’t it okay to be proud that you made an effort to be honest in the first place?

K: … You’re so kind all of a sudden.

E: I just said what I was thinking. And besides – I forgave you. I made it as if your sin wasn’t a sin at all. And yet, you don’t seem the slightest bit relieved.

K: I know right.

E: Everyone else seems more or less liberated by the fact that they were forgiven.

K: That’s right.

E: Just from that… I understand that having your feelings approved of by someone else can have a major impact on the development of one’s personality.

K: …

E: However… You have not forgiven yourself. That’s why you can’t change.

K: …

E: Alternatively, even if your lying self was forgiven… it would still do nothing to help you.

K: …Aah, you really are impressive. You think so much.

E: I am watching over ten troublesome prisoners, after all. Even if I don’t want to, I’m being relied on.

K: I haven’t forgiven myself… even if my lies are forgiven, it won’t resonate [with me]. It might just be both of these. All the lies I’ve told are tying me down. Ever since I was little, I’ve never truly opened myself to anyone. But in the end, people can’t be saved if they don’t [open up]. And by now, it’s gotten to a point where I can’t do it by myself anymore…

(machinery whirrs, bell rings)

K: I did think Milgram would be able to force its way past that, though.

E: Is that an attempt at provocation?

K: You didn’t manage to reach my sin.

E: …

K: Even though I want you to… Milgram isn’t so great after all, is it?

E: …Heh. Don’t push yourself too hard, after all that whining from earlier.

K: Ha. [This is] the wish of a liar who’s reached a dead end – come and figure out my lies, Milgram. And, Es… please, free me from these lies.

E: Yeah. Leave it to me. – Prisoner no.7, Kazui. Sing your sins.

[smuttyaf]

You Can Be My Daddy

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐞.

wc; 10k | part one

lil bit of submissive!h. implied age gap! don’t read if it makes you uncomfy!!

Fingers dripping in saliva swiftly zip Harry back up, your rising chest settles down from its previous movements with heels taking steps back to create space between your teacher.

And as he swallows heavily with hands going to his belt and looping it around his waist, the door knob is turning and eerily creaking open, little time to comprehend the sudden intrusion.

Harry tries to focus on fixing himself back up but can’t help catch sight of your movements.

Palms swiping across your skirt heavily, tongue peaking out of your mouth to catch whatever aftertaste of him lapped around your lips just as you lean over to grab your things. His boss is stepping through the door making the atmosphere strained yet, that sight alone has Harry wanting to bend you over right then and there.

“Oh! Hello miss, surprised to see you!”

Wobble of a smile tugs on the ends of Harry’s lips, but bunny, she’s beaming. Flush of pink roaming amongst her cheeks accentuating her happy smile, steps swaying with subtle lifts of beat as if not touching him a few seconds ago.

“Yes! Well, I was just asking Mr. Styles this question about Marie Antoinette, our term paper is coming up.” Voice not wavering with eye contact stern when she passes him.

And Harry, he can’t help but notice how quick you are to lie; how you’re so good at it. Almost too easy to believe but you’re doing it, because the expression over Mr. Bennett's face is one of being intrigued.

“Ah, yes! Marie Antoinette, so misunderstood.” His body stepping back as he holds the door open. “I’m sure you will do well. I read your piece in the school paper; I must applaud you for your insight on Maslow, I never would’ve thought you’re familiar with his work.”

“Yes, I am. His argument on self-actualization is said in such great detail, his work is truly something.” Innocence shining through your expression of doe eyes and nodding head. The fact he’s even commenting on your published column only adds to your sweet image. “I should really get going now, goodbye Mr. Bennett.”

Harry’s thankful you don’t acknowledge him as you leave. Beer belly principal nodding his head stiffly as he goes to close the door.

Now without you by his side does he begin to sweat; knuckles flexing, jaw tensing, and lips still smiling tightly. He tries to reel it in for the sake of his job that he put on the line.

“Such a lovely girl,” He compliments as Harry makes his way towards his desk. Fingers fumbling over his paperwork looking for the report.

“Y —Yes, an excellent student.” Harry sighs once your name comes into view. He twists towards the gray haired man trying to conceal his worked up nerves.

“Thank you!” He smiles, head bowing delighted that it’s finished before stepping closer.

Mr. Bennett’s gaze is heavy as it roams over Harry. The nervous twitch of his nostril, diverating eyes and shallow breath. Inspecting every inch of him looking to catch anything off about Harry’s appearance.

“May I ask what her question was?”

His fingers curl in on each other at the sudden request catching him off guard. His boss can probably see the distress written all over his face, especially with the way he clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, green eyes squinting to look at the principal with a confused glare.

“The question about Marie Antoinette, what was it?” Mr. Bennett responds, his bushy brows perk up as he leans on the desk.

The charm that bunny has, the one that graced this very room now leaves it empty, having him hanging by a thread. You managed to get away with your lie, but Harry, he has to continue it thinking fast on his feet to catch up.

“Uh, Marie Antoinette… her uh, saying…” He clears his throat, hand raising to his mouth coughing tensely trying to get rid of the strain on his throat. “Let them eat cake, I was explaining to her that it was just hear-say, actually coined from Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a book created way before the existence of Marie.”

The older man relaxes, tongue swiping across his dry lips as he nods once more. Satisfied smile stretches deeper amongst his features, index finger tapping into the wood of his desk as he leans off.

“Just testing…” Wink dropping before he’s turning around on his heels. Harry relaxes tremendously with shoulders subsiding and heart easing in pace as he watches him retreat to the door.

“Don’t need any new rumors, especially with parents' interviews coming up, now do we?” Mr. Bennett turns towards him, gaze running down Harry’s frame, stern sight yet delighted grin.

“Of course not sir.” He replies, nodding his head as he tracks the door swinging shut.

Harry can’t help the way his body twists around, hands combing through his hair as he tries his best to refrain from hitting himself.

How stupid can he be? That was too close of a call. If you were on your knees any longer he would’ve been packed up, sent away, and forbidden to even show his face again.

If you weren’t so passive about the situation he would have given up the facade and begged to keep his job… yet, you made it so easy covering up the moment with a shining grin and persuasive small talk. This time you both got lucky, but what about next time?

Should he even think there is one? Is he crazy to think that? Probably. He shouldn’t be fascinated or find you appealing, but he does.

He wants the sweet taste of you back on his lips… and the feeling of your hands drawing down him with that warm wet mouth just covering him all over. God, he’ll do anything to feel you again and that’s fucked up to think, but now that he’s finally had a taste he wants more. He can’t help but want more.

Harry knows it’s foolish, purely stupid, but even you yourself said it; he’s your daddy and you’re his bunny.

And, you do what you always do, be a tease.

You’re so tempting it’s hard not to notice. With your cherry lips and adorable giggle heard when passing in the hall.

Your skirt is rolled up even higher now, breast more sheen through your button up, and when you sit in front of him in class always focused with tongue glossing over your lips. It reminds him of the weeks prior, how his bunny sucked him up deliciously… how you loved every moment with dirty words and welcoming throat.

He can’t get you off his mind bunny, you’re all he thinks about in his mundane life of teaching and lacrosse. You make things so exciting, so thrilling, he likes knowing the fact he finally has your attention.

You continue to dip your back letting him see your panties, a different colour everyday of the week; sometimes lacy, sometimes plaid, but either way he enjoys the view. Harry especially likes it when you begin signing your nickname at the top of your page for tests, risky, but it entringes him even more.

It’s like right now, your eyes are following his every move when speaking about The French Revolution. Showing how attentive and perfect you are. He tries to ignore your plush mouth and drawing gaze, but he can’t help to float back over your appearance for a little while.

He wraps up the end of the class thirty minutes early, introducing the homework to be done by tomorrow and also suggesting if needing any help for the upcoming paper, that he’s all ears.

And of course, his bunny is by his side. Captivating smile shining to the bounce of your mary jane’s. Harry bites down on his lip, catching sight of your thigh highs and prominent tits. You sure know how to get his attention.

“Mr. Styles,” Long drawl of his name singing in your sweet voice. Leather clad foot resting along the heel of your shoes when leaning into the desk.

“I couldn’t understand this excerpt from yesterday.”

He knows you're lying, knows you’re way too smart not to understand something so easily explained in the textbook, but he can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes him when leaning forward in his chair.

As you place the book onto the desk he catches sight on the folded paper stuck between the spine. His throat clears, eyes shifting towards you who smiles softly at him.

His hands peel away from his arm rest and collects the thick book in his palms, shoulders turning towards you looking down at him curiously.

“This part over here, it states Marie betrayed France by telling the Austrian invaders, why would she do that?”

As the words you speak trail out as foolishness your finger points to the large text box pertaining to your question till it soon slides between the middle and lets the note fall down on the desk. Harry watches it all, his eyes trained on your finger dragging across the rest of the glossy page with fake confusion.

You want his attention so bad, look at you.

Leaning over his desk with flirty gaze and teasing smile, your breasts sparkling in his vision with the way your back curves. It’s sickening how you get away with it, how no one realizes how persuading you are at this moment but him.

“Well, yes, she betrayed the battle plans of the French in hope that they would be defeated and the monarchy restored.” He responds swiftly, hands closing the book while turning to look at you. “Does that answer your question?”

Plump lips curve against the beaming smile of your teeth, slow bob of your head lightly shifting your breasts that Harry can’t help but lick his lip at the sight. Your hand reaches out and accepts the book, hugging it into your chest before stepping away.

“Yes, thank you sir.” Heels retreating back to your desk in a sway of suggestive hips.

Harry watches you take your seat, skirt twisting with eyes tracking back to him, another tug of your lips following before you’re opening your textbook and starting the assigned work.

And he waits a few moments, letting himself look busy flipping through his agenda of drills for the lacrosse practice this afternoon. Fingers fiddling with the ends of the page before taking the note up and unraveling it.

You’re all I can think about…

His heart goes all warm, stomach clenching and veins pulsing to his dick. The neat cursive written in the middle of the torn piece of paper is a kept secret between you and him. Harry can't help but look up at you.

Completely focused on the question at hand, brows pushed together and pen breaking through your lips. You’re concentrated on keeping up your grades, you’re perfect image.

Harry has to sit back in his chair and simply just applaud you. You disguise your true self so well bunny, being the good girl that you are, the one you pretend to be.

But, it’s with his eyes trained on you does he catch Calie passing a note towards Finn. The red head laughs to himself over it before it’s passing behind him to Emmet. The telephone string of the paper from sender to receiver a mess between rushed hands.

He watches closely as it shifts throughout the room, polished nails or bitten ones taking it and passing it onto the next. From Emmet to Astrid, and then Bella to Gabriel until it’s being poked on the elbow of you.

Bunny? What’s this? Someone else on your mind and not him… you should know better than that. Who else races your mind if not him?

Harry can’t stop his nose from flaring as he sees you take it with a smile on your lips accepting the sheet.

“Y/N, would you like to share the note with the rest of the class.”

Your head picks up; eyes wide, fingers curling around the paper, and cheeks heating up noticing that you’re caught.

Snickers of students and grinning faces fill the air over the interruption of free time. They’re just as intrigued with who could’ve been the source just as much as Harry is.

“Hmm?” He continues, sight watching heavily on the way you bite your lip before looking between him and the note.

Your throat clears with fingers peeling it open, deep breath floating in the ruffle of chairs and whispers.

“Um, w —will you meet me after dinner tonight, Luca,” Voice wavering as you swallow heavily, sight catching between Harry and the blonde boy. He sits in the front right hand corner of the room shuffling in his seat, brows raised with the same expression written over his face like his bunny.

So, he’s the one who has your attention, not Harry who should be front and center. His own right wing of defense spending time with you. It’s comical and everyone in the room thinks it’s funny too.

Harry cracks his knuckles in the teasing atmosphere of you distraught that you got caught. You were just sweet talking your way with him minutes ago, and now your mind is elsewhere. Don’t you know better than that?

“Please remember that there will be no passing notes in my class.”

Your lashes flutter at him before turning to look at Luca. Chummy grin with back slouching against the chair, his eye drops into a wink that leaves you tugging your lips into a smirk.

You don’t care… of course you don’t. You have anyone that desires you hanging in front of your face by a thread while you pull the strings whenever bored.

Harry tries not to be mad, tries to reel in his nerves as you flash your eyes at the shaggy blonde as if it’s just the two of you. You’re so naughty toying with him.

This isn’t his bunny. The one who’s so attentive and pleasing. No, you’re doing more to prove how smart you truly are, the tease you love to be.

Thick blades of grass squish amongst the feet of intense movements. Cleats cutting through swiftly as they pick up from the bodies charging down the field, yellow tinged ball crossing in the air as blue and green jerseys drift by.

It’s a beautiful day outside, the trees rustling against the subtle wind from the spring breeze transitioning into the summer season. Colleagues roaming amongst the grounds on their own destinations to distinct quarters, or students still lounging in their uniforms watching the school team practice and you just so happen to be there.

Academy gym shorts with matching t-shirt relaxing on the field, badminton rackets by each of your friends as you giggle looking towards the team.

Harry can’t help his eyes glazing over your taunt frame. Perky backside and charming aura working for not only him, but the player on the team who just so happened to score in the scrimmage at hand.

He watches the way you smirk before turning to your friends who bump shoulders with you, teasing each other with pointed glaces and twisting feet.

Look at you, so happy to give your attention away; to show you have other options, one that leaves Harry jealous and fighting to regain focus.

“Alright, I’m calling it in.” Ed nods to him once checking his watch. That’s his cue to trail across the field while the head coach draws the team in.

The nylon of his pants swishes with each stride before he’s leaning down collecting the pylons. His body makes its way across the field picking up the yellow plastic, white lines shifting his version that he doesn’t realize he’s near you. Close enough to see your gleaming smile and hear little about the conversation in the group.

It’s when leaning down to pick up the equipment do your eyes catch on each other. Head swishing to the side as you smile happily. Your finger twirls the ends of your hair with body shifting against the grass as you ignore whatever words are being said.

Harry watches clearly the way your head twists around and slowly, but subtly nods towards the array of trees that comb over the grounds of the school. Your eyebrows raise in question before listening to your friends.

Was this your plan all along? With your friends too distracted with each other to realize your actions to lure him out there. Was this what you were plotting this whole time? Low waisted shorts and dreamy eyes simply directing him where to meet once practice is over.

You’re too good at this, too conceited and happy to get whatever you want. Even if you were just delighted to have Lucas' attention you still want more.

Harry trails his view off you when picking up the remaining equipment before joining the team for the cool down of the practice.

He puts all the pinneys and pylons together, palms securing everything in their respective bags until he’s tugging off towards the equipment room. His body carried him down the flight of stairs while looking out towards the window just parallel to the steps.

Harry watches your body stalking into the woods and he can’t help the smirk that tugs at the end of his lips as he goes down the rest of the stones.

Leaves and sticks crunch below your Converse, fingers feeling over the light green blades that feels like velvet against the pad of your skin. The tug at the end of your lip is hard not to resist with your veins pulsing at what could possibly happen if you see Mr. Styles again.

This game of cat and mouse was your specialty, being able to have your way with teachers and peers so attractive and delectable. You could always tell with their breath catching and shaky voice that it was right to purpose the match.

Your perfect grades and kind attitude shines over your deeper thoughts, your favorite desires, the ones that have you tugging your way into the forest of the school right now.

Your head twists up to catch shadows of the trees as your steps still venture out east of the school, far from the usual make out spots on the property.

Will he even come? The way he turned away from you on the field was giving he wasn’t even interested, and all because of Luca and his dumb note; the one you got called out on.

You like having your secrets unknown to each other, all your lies being covered with pearly white teeth and bending spine. You were subtle with handing your own note off to your favorite teacher, if it all went well then you were certain he would show up to meet. But your boy toy around school had other plans when deciding to get you tangled in your tactics.

Stuttering and looking up at Mr. Styles caught in the aftermath of flirty eyes and bouncing breasts. You hate that he had ruin your chances, you’re not quite sure when you’ll be near your teacher again without it being so obvious from friends and peers. It was such a risky game that you loved to play despite having yourself caught up last semester.

It’s a good thing you’re so good at batting your lashes and talking so sweetly you managed to get away, but now it was a tab left in your mother’s mind and it certainly wounded your step-father. Your right hand goes to your mouth and begins to chew on your nail from the anxiety festering from the memories. You need to be sharper and have all your little white lies arranged better, you can’t manage to slip up again.

Steps finally come to a halt, body twisting around to rest along the wide tree with unruly bushes growing around it. Perfect. Your back slouches against the stumb as your hand tears away from your mouth.

You could barely see the field or the school's architecture from your place. You can only hope Mr. Styles would find you if he was still interested.

He has to be… he still stares at you longingly especially on your lips. Bet he’s remembering your moment together, the one that you can’t stop thinking about. How he made your throat swell and voice all raspy… how you had to pretend in front of the principal you didn’t just swallow your teacher's load.

You want more of him. He’s all you think about when Luca would he kissing down your neck or when your step-father is in your ear whispering how much he misses you, Mr. Styles was the only one on your mind when everything would be happening.

When the thick Bradford accent on the other end of the phone describes everything he would do, all you can think of is your teacher and what he would do in his place. Where his hands would spread amongst your body, or where his lips would find themselves on your skin.

The cracking of branches brings you out of your thoughts, your fingers running over the ends of your shorts as you see brown hair come into sight.

So he did show up, trialing after you like you thought he would. The ends of your lips curl up as you relax deeper into the wood. Mr. Styles continues his steps into the space, his eyes darting around until you whistle sweetly to catch his attention.

“Fancy seeing you around,” You perk up, feet crossing over each other as you watch him make his way over.

His body covered in a black tracksuit certainly making him appealing with his bulky frame. Humming softly your tongue peeks out to swipe along your bottom lip. The thoughts of him manhandling you from your teasing ways makes your clit begin to swell.

“Bunny…” He greets with hands wrapping around your waist. Tall frame pushing you deeper into the stumb as he looks over your face.

“Daddy…” You utter, peering up at him through doe eyes, the same ones that have him falling every time.

“I missed you,” Whispering up at him sweetly. Your hands leave your shorts to pull at the band of his track pants.

Those words have the teacher surveying your every feature with fingers curling tighter around your hips. Mr. Styles is so handsome with his grainy stubble and board chest. The way he’s pining you into the tree has you moaning quietly as you straighten your back.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” His words send a wave of annoyance through you. The eye roll you find yourself doing is completely unintentional as your head knocks into the wood.

“That wasn’t my fault,” You huff, fingers snaking along his boxers while looking up at him.

“Oh, really?” Playful cheer in the teacher’s voice as his palms venture down your hips and feel over your cheeks. The motions so possessive from his huge hands that the moan that trails from you has him groaning as well.

“It wasn’t, because you know…” Mr. Styles' face draws closer with each word as he towers over you. “You’re all I can think about.”

The pads of your fingers gaze across his happy trail, mouth parting slightly as you lift yourself onto your toes closer to him, the taste that you’ve been craving just inches away.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

His teasing tone and rough hands have you begging just to close the space around him. It’s why your nails leave scratches against the older man’s skin, whining high in your throat so desperate for him.

“All the time,” Warmth of your movements draw deeper down his pelvis. “I think about you when I shower in the morning… touching myself thinking you're there with me.”

Deep growl rumbles through Mr. Styles, his teeth biting into his lip as he steps closer. His hips parallel with yours as you curl your hand around his cock, thick bead of pre-cum smearing along his crown as you keep your gaze strong.

“Having me up against the wall, water between us… daddy, I always imagine how good you would fuck me.” Torturing him with your lewd thoughts whenever alone and thinking about your favorite person.

“Just stretching me out all nice and wide… you’re so big… all nice and thick, I still remember how you fucked my throat.” The older man can’t stop himself from landing a furious smack against your ass. Tiny squeak leaving you as you fall to your heels.

“What else do you think about princess?” He ask, lips so dangerously close your breath is wavering.

Your hand grips tighter around Mr. Styles cock, his hips inching closer to you as he palms over your backside. Happy would be an understatement about how you feel at the moment. He’s finally here and under your spell again, just the way you like him.

“I think about you beneath me…” Tongue skimming across your flesh as you slide down him with ease, the fluid drawing from him makes the twist of your movements much easier as he leans in deeper.

“Kissing down my stomach, feeling up my thighs, licking where I want you the most,” Lashes flutter as his mouth inches closer and closer to you. “Don’t you think about my pussy daddy?”

Those very words have him capturing your lips with his. The muted taste of peppermint lingering along his tongue rubs against yours, spit being exchanged with haste as he can’t help his fingers from slinking between your thighs and feeling over the very place you want him.

He’s rubbing the spot there, rough ends of his digits massaging over your clothed area. It’s harsh and swift as they draw down your folds, an electric surge tingling down your spine feeling him around you all over again.

Mr. Styles is all rugged with his growing beard and bulky frame. He could easily manhandle you any kind of way but he treats you so delicately. You couldn’t imagine how he’ll spread you nice and wide, it’s all that’s been on your mind when you pass by him in the hall or stare up at him in class. Those very thoughts that have you breaking away from the kiss with a whimper.

“How I’ll feel around you…” Fingers contracting around his length as you bow your eyes at him slowly. “How I’ll stretch around you…” Lips curling in on each other savoring the taste of him on your buds. “How I taste… don’t you think about that a lot Mr. Styles… how my pussy would taste on your tongue?”

And he’s groaning in his throat, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip as his hands leave their position and drape to their previous one. His head cranes down to press wet kisses along the expanse of your neck, your hips being held strongly against the bark.

“Yes bunny… I do.” Your head turns against the wood from the adrenaline coursing through, his breath drapes warm and heavy amongst your skin that you moan at the feel.

In his new position you retrieve your hands and place them on either side of his face, your eyes watching closely as he breathes over your belly button with sight connecting to yours.

His hands drag up and down the expanse of your stomach before his fingers catch onto the band of your shorts, head wandering deeper down and staring up at you while doing so.

The lined cotton shorts that once grace your hips draw down swiftly with your panties, they pool around your feet with his hands drawing back up your naked thighs, feverish pecks roaming over your abdomen until pressing into your love handles.

“Oh daddy… won’t you make me feel good?” Fingers curling into his hair and ruffling with it. You always wanted to do that. Feel his hair rubbing against your stomach and kisses littering your inner thigh, it’s finally happening and you couldn’t be more excited.

Mr. Styles is looking up at you, sun highlighting the green in his eyes and his long lashes that blink up. And with the soft breeze whisking itself through the forest do you whimper at the feeling of it passing through your lower half.

“Yes, bunny.” Said so deep and husky that your fingers scratch along his scalp. His hand that dragged along your thigh urges your leg up, you don’t hesitate to prop it up your side with his help to keep it there.

Mr. Styles breath floats along your inner thighs, light smears of his wet lips pressing along the skin that you whine high in your throat. You don’t know how much time you have, but you doubt anyone is looking for either of you or going further past the school grounds to come look. You’re sure you’re safe but still, there’s always the possibility of someone seeing or finding you.

It’s why all movements are so rushed yet lucid, his tongue dragging sloppily along your thighs as he moves towards your pussy. A relieving sigh leaving when his tongue skims over your folds, eyes still locked on each other as his grip tightens over you.

“Daddy,” Soft call of his name trailing out as he leans in again to lick you, a pleasant hum vibrates over you that your eyes bat slowly at the feel.

The delicious drag of his tongue lying flat against your pussy as he draws his head up in lengthy strides makes your foot bend in your Converse. This is what you’ve always dreamt about; his tongue eating you out, and it’s even better that you tell he’s enjoying it with his fingers scratching into your skin all hungry.

“Like how I taste, daddy?”

A deep groan pulsates throughout you to answer which has your head knocking back into the tree. Sweet moan falling from your lips as your knee against the stumb bends a bit, pussy sinking deeper against Mr. Styles tongue as he draws up your folds.

One hand leaves his curls and goes towards the one holding your thigh up, his head rocking up and down in rush strides that you begin following his movements. Wet muscle flexing against every swivel and drag, his forest orbs loving the way your lips fall apart and moan from his touch. He lets you take charge and ride his tongue just the way you like if that's the attention you need… the attention you deserve.

His tongue drags up along your clit and in the moment you don’t hesitate to tug his head back and circle your waist along him. The width of his tongue swallowing your clit up so beautifully that it’s better than everything you imagined, and the fact he’s a grown man letting you ride his face, god he’s the best daddy ever.

Your head leans forward, teeth biting down on your lip as you gently move him against your circling hips.

“You’re so good to me daddy.”

Mr. Styles' eyes close slowly even more aroused from your words and the fact you taste like honey. His nails leave crescent moons into skin as he lets you drag yourself all over him. Just as hot as it is to be getting off using him, Harry was a slave to your tactics getting off to your sweet nectar and melodic voice dripping in sex.

Between the slurps of him eating your pussy to the moans expelling every time you swivel your hips harder against him, the scene is one of greed. Pure old fashioned greed of wanting nothing more than to ruin each other. It’s such a dangerous game but it’s so fun, luring him in and pulling at his heart strings all because it was entertaining to you.

“Like the way I ride you?” His tongue tenses against your movements, his head bobbing shallowly that leaves you to let out a breathless sigh.

And to think after calling you out hours ago when catching you with someone else Mr. Styles is here right now eating your pussy, and loving it.

He’s the daddy you need, the one that goes over and beyond to prove where your eyes should be focused on. He’s really the best, doing all this just to prove to you the place he wants in your life.

“Do you want me to ride your cock like this?” Lazy smirk tugging at the end of your lips with brow raising slightly, your motions losing momentum as you look down at him.

His mouth flexes against your folds, lips pressing open kisses back along your thighs. Wet juices dragging along your skin as your grip over him relaxes. Your thigh falls lucid by your leg, his touch drawing back up your skin as he finds his way up your body.

“Bunny,” Mr. Styles breathes against your clothed stomach. The sweet exchange that once coats his mouth disappears once dragging along the shirt. His lips trailing back up your neck and pressing onto your cheeks.

“I don’t know how much time we have left.”

You shake your head confidently, hands now drawing up his shoulders and stepping closer to him. You’re sure there’s nothing to worry about, almost positive you had enough time to have him the way you want.

“Please…” Lips pout slightly as you get him to peer into your eyes, your canine tooth catching on your lip before you’re smiling innocently at him. “I’m all nice and tight for you, don’t you want to feel daddy?”

Mr. Styles groans lowly, his face shifting amongst yours as he slots your lips against each other. The sweet taste of yourself flows along your tongue and you love every bit of it knowing that he adores it even more at the moment. The juices that you expel with the mix of your saliva, it’s a delicious brew that you're sure he wants forever from the way his fingers grip onto your hips.

He’s thought of this moment so many times yet can’t believe it’s happening, and the words you speak, he’s nearly coming from the sweet sound and the way you say his name.

Tongues dance along each other in a rushed frenzy not knowing how much longer it’ll be till this moment happens again. Your lips feel over the soft pricks of his stubble, hands drawing along his chest and moaning at the possessiveness over the kiss. His tongue flows against yours with such dominance you moan against him before pulling away with a bite at his lip.

“Just lay down for me, please?” You ask all sweet and doe eyed, nails dotting against the nylon of his jacket as you stare up at him.

And he’s unsure, with sight looking between you and the scenery around. A gentle sigh escapes as he nods his head lightly. “Okay.”

The grin that shines across your lips is bright and cheery, your eyes watching him closely as his knees begin to bend and you don’t hesitate to follow. Your hands fitting themselves on each side of his head, hips resting along his stomach with your face becoming parallel to each other.

“Been thinking about this since I met you.” Head leaning forward and dotting kisses against his chin, his hands by his side tug at the top of his track pants to pull them down.

“Looking at you in class… thinking about you fucking me on my desk.” Rush breath combing over his neck as you litter him with love. “Or yours.” Giggle trailing out so adorably that Mr. Styles moans at the sound. His hand draws away from the fabric of his joggers and lands a scolding slap amongst your ass.

“Dirty girl.” He mutters, fingers spreading you wide while rocking you over his erection.

“Only for you daddy.”

Leaning back on your knees, your hands slide towards your t-shirt and tug it over your head. Your breasts on display as you balance yourself amongst his waist, arm going behind your back and palming his cock.

“Want you inside me.” You say while blindly releasing him from his confines and twisting him slowly.

Mr. Styles rests on his elbows as he watches you raise up, the beautiful sight of his bunny bare and ready to take him, this is too good to be true.

His teeth poke out from his mouth and catch on his lips, stomach dipping with heavy breaths as he watches you lower yourself. Your puffy folds spread wide as his cock fills you up slowly, long whine tearing from your throat as he swallows you up inch by inch. The stretch of him has your body leaning forward with other hand curling around his jacket anxiously.

“Jesus.” Mr. Styles breathes with hand steadying your hips as he leans up, the tight feel of you around him makes his fingers curl deeper into your skin while you sink further onto his lap. “Bunny, fuck.” Your knees clench around his waist as you sigh pleasantly.

Plush walls nestle his throbbing cock gracing your sweet spot so heavenly that you’re shuddering against him. Your hips rubbing against his pelvis only increasing the fraction that has you crying out in satisfaction.

“Daddy, you fill me up so good.” Both hands gather up his arms and to the nape of his neck, your mouths lean forward breathing in each other's moans.

“You’re so tight bunny.” He follows your motions as your head knocks into his forehead.

You hum with your mouth going dry, eyes batting at him slowly as you find the strength to rise up on your knees and slowly grind yourself. Delicious spread of your pussy accepting every stride of him.

The combination of his spit and your juices leaves a squelching sob sound every time your hips meet. Walls flexing around every loving rhythmic stroke, whine high in the back of your throat as your fingers press deeply into his skin.

“So sweet, so dirty, just the way I like you.” Mr. Styles breathes over your lips. Your mouth catching his filthy words and swallowing them up loving the taste.

His grip over your hips guides your movements, eyes hanging low and watching every bounce of yourself riding him to the way your nose twitches. The thickness of him swells every crevice that succumbs to him filling you up. It’s leaving you numb with pleasure allowing him to draw you down in repetitive motions.

“I love the way you stretch around me, bunny” His lips curving the slope of your nose when you bow your head.

This moment was more than your dreams. The man that’s been fucking you in your every thought now helping you slide down his dick with such ease. Telling you just how he likes you, and how he loves the way you expand around him, he’s the best teacher. Your favorite one.

Lips collide in messy motions, slipping across each other with moans and groans trailing out. The hands of both of you sinking deeper and deeper as you both chase your highs.

The crinkles of leaves shift under your bodies, shadows of trees gracing across your bouncing breasts as Mr. Styles continues to guide your movements. Mouths catching along each other hurriedly with thighs twitching to curl deeper against him, the shock of stabs running down your neck causes your spine to bend at the feeling.

“Daddy… m’gonna…” Mouth parting away from him as your forehead drags along his cheek, breath coming out rushed as you feel your climax making itself known.

“Gonna come on daddy’s cock? You love my dick, don’t you?” His words deep in your ear making you lose all sense in your knees when going silk around him.

Your head twists deeper across his skin, eyes barely staying open as the squished grass amongst the floor bobs in your vision. Mr. Styles takes complete control over you as his hands keep your waist flexing around him.

Your pussy quivers and trembles from his words, adding fury to the spikes of arousal barreling down joyously. Your mouth hangs open, nails scratching into his skin as you continue feeling his cock tagging your cervix each time.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan completely distraught with stomach twitching. Your jerking hips take control of your weak motions as you find the strength to runt yourself into his lap.

Clit rubbing beautifully against the light bush along his pelvis chasing your high. You groan pleasantly at the head of his cock dragging across your sweet spot, your climax welcoming itself with your pussy contracting around him.

And instead of Mr. Styles guiding you back up his length he’s following your movements and thrusting into your hips. Piercing jabs adding to the sensation of pulsing shocks spreading through.

“Feel so good bunny,” He moans into your bobbing head, lips trailing down the hair matted to your shoulder. Sweet smell of your perfume gracing his nostrils that leaves him growling against your skin.

Fingers shake against his flexing shoulders, lips bitten and cracked letting air shallowly fill your lungs. Your pussy is bruised and sore from the girth of your teacher assaulting every inch that welcomes him.

“You’re so deep daddy,” Sweet voice running across his blushing skin. It’s damp with tiny strands connecting hair against his temples, his adam’s apple bobbing heavily with his fingers digging deeper into your skin; clear that your words affect him.

It’s your favorite thing to do with this game you play. How your words are so angelic yet dirty, leaving Mr. Styles, your boy toy and step-father vulnerable messes every time you're around. Cracked voices and growing erections always being your sight at just a simple bat of an eye. It’s so easy to have whoever you want be able to play.

It’s why you continue being alluring; dreamy moans carrying into his ears with hands sliding up into his hair, tousling every lock as you rotate your hips against his thrusts. The change in rhythm and pulsing beats of your pussy around Harry makes him hiss. Head dropping swiftly against your shoulder till you catch him quickly, nails tugging his head back as you peer into his eyes and ride his cock.

“Fuck me nice and wide,” Waist swiveling against his grip trying to strain your movements. Green eyes look up at your lips while his part in bliss accepting your heavenly pussy gracing him. “Stretch me so good daddy.”

Teasing breath fanning over his face as your breasts rub against the material of his jacket, your scent showers over him with your pussy wrapping around his cock deliciously, the sight clear of how he’s a slave to you and the way you make him feel.

“Don’t you want to fill me up?” Harry moans with eyes blinking slowly, his fingers beginning to loosen against your motions.

Your pussy coats his dick in creamy fluid adding to the pleasure of your walls dragging down him. Your fingers itch at his scalp, lips leaning towards his and nearly connecting as you smile.

“Don’t you want me to make you a daddy?”

Words having Mr. Styles whining high in his throat, hands twitching against your hips just as his seed spills into you. Fingers twitching and jaw tensing as he stares up in complete admiration. His waist stills against yours, eyes blinking slowly in a daze as you still grin at him, swiveling your hips and whispering sweet nothings.

“Such a thick load, sir.”

Hands relaxing around his curls while his fall from your waist, Harry’s sight completely enveloped by your words that he can’t help the lazy smile that tugs along his lips when you giggle at his expression.

“Mm… you’re really the best.” You hush, hips moving slowly as your chest begins to relax.

“It’s clear that’s up for debate.” Mr. Styles smirks, fingers feeling over the blades of grass below. But even if it’s a playful tease, his words taint your heart.

“It’s only you, I’m so serious sir,” You sigh, head shifting with bottom lip jutting out.

He gives you a pointed glare as if not believing you — not that he should, but it’s entertaining to make him jealous… teasing him just how you like. It’s why you find yourself rolling your eyes and raising up on your sore knees. The motion of you sitting off his lap and slipping him out turns his attention. His come drips out and flows down the expanse of his cock.

Humming delighted at the site, your hand trails out of his hair and between your legs. Fingers seeping into your pussy and catching the reminder of him onto your fingertips to carry into your mouth. Tongue welcoming the muted taste of your teacher and moaning playfully.

“Bunny.” He whines, eyes watching closely as you dip back between you both and collect the rest running down his cock and sucking them off your fingers again. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

The laugh that escapes you is adorable when you lean into his chest, hands moving to his shoulders and forcing him to fall back against the grass which he does gently. His own hands run down your spine as you shift around on his body.

“Wouldn’t that be amazing?” You sigh, fingers trailing up his neck and drawing along the definition of his jaw as he looks up at the sky.

The laugh that leaves the older man is light and cherished, one that has you smiling as you let his touch roam all over your skin.

His heart beats against your ear, lungs rising steadily with your bodies fitting together. The sun is still shining brightly with the breeze passing by every few moments. The quiet atmosphere of this area makes it feel private and safe.

“Sir?” Voice raised in question as your fingertip glides against the bridge of his nose just in time for him to hum in response.

“You never did tell me why you call me bunny?” Lips piercing together tightly as his touch begins to draw circles up your spine in swirls.

“Your eyes,” He whispers as he looks at the clouds passing across.

Your brows perk up at that. Your eyes? You knew they were quite alluring but not to that extent. Yet, that was the nickname that he gave you, the one feature that stood out the most to him. Not cherry, or baby like your other two flings.

“My eyes?” You reiterate. Head trailing off to the side as you pass your finger across his lips. The motion has him playfully biting on your nail till you’re retreating back to draw along his cheeks with a giggle.

“Yes… there so doe and soft, like a bunny. My bunny.” You hum acknowledging his words in admiration.

So that’s what he thought, that’s what stuck out the most. It was adorable and unique. So different compared to what you’re familiar with.

“When do you think we can do this again?” Your voice mutters against his chest. It makes Mr. Styles draw his hands away and lean up on his elbows.

His eyes go towards your shirt and grabs it, the material falls into your grip and you don’t hesitate to lean back and slip it over your head, sight still caught on the older man.

“I don’t know… it’s too risky,” His view looking over your naked thighs that hold his abdomen to the poor expression turning up over your face.

“Oh come on,” You huff, rolling your eyes and drawing away from his body. You twist off him with hands leaning towards your undergarments inches away.

“W —What are you getting all upset about? Even right now is pushing it,” His own actions cover himself back up as you scoff in response. “Don’t act like this.”

Another exaggerated sigh falls from your mouth before fixing your shorts around your hips, sight narrowing on the green streaks across your shirt before turning to look at the teacher now standing.

“I’ll act however I please,” You mumble, teeth clenching down on each other as Mr. Styles groans with annoyance, his hand stretching towards you but you’re quick enough to retreat back.

“So, even if it’s this spot for the exact same time?” You rephrase, heart knocking against your chest as you tangle your arms together.

“No Y/N, god… don’t you get it? Don’t you see my job on the line just to be here right now?”

“Fine.”

“Would you stop?”

“No.”

Your eyes watch every frustrated movement from the body parallel of you who bows his head in disbelief of the situation.

Of course he wants to see you again, of course he wants to wrap himself all around you but this puts too much stress over everything on his plate.

“Let’s just talk this over?”

“No, I’m good.”

Your teeth shining happily as you shift your head to the side and watch Mr. Styles inhale deeply. his body stepping closer still attempting to hold you.

“I’ll walk my way around to the front… you can go back from where you came from.” Simple nod of your head before your gracefully turning around beginning your departure. You’re trailing off so quickly he doesn’t even have the chance to catch you slipping through his fingers.

He just had you and now it’s already over.

Harry should’ve really expected this though. He should’ve anticipated your stubborn reaction to his words, he should’ve really thought over them because now you’re making his life a living hell.

You couldn’t wait a week, or even a couple days, you really couldn’t wait at all. Because the next afternoon you showed up to class five minutes late, walking through the door with a simple smirk on your lips and “sorry!” so sweet and delectable that he let you get away with it, of course he would, far as he knows he’s on punishment.

But, when you cut your eyes in a wicked glare did he realize who else was missing from the class, his own lacrosse player. Your heels echoed to your seat eerily to him amongst the shuffling of the other students, and when you sat in your chair with lips now a teasing grin did Luca soft knock sound on the door before he stepped in.

His collar was obnoxiously up high, clear what was litter amongst his skin. The sight had Harry clenching his jaw unbearably tight, his eyes going to you who conceitedly winked at him. It didn’t help that the other students began to snicker, adding to the fury of Harry turning his fingers in on themselves while continuing the class.

That was only the beginning though; now when passing in the halls you completely ignored him, acting as if he wasn’t there. When seeing you in the pillars of the school with Luca by your side, you made sure to wink at him, or sometimes Harry will see him drop you off to class, catching sight on his hands grabbing the skin he doesn’t deserve.

You continue showing up late; sometimes your boyfriend trailing behind, sometimes not. You stop raising your hand and involving yourself in class discussions and begin to pay attention to the birds outside or doodling in your book. Notes start being exchanged even more between you and the blonde classmate, one time you even left one on your desk that Harry took up.

Can I eat you out tonight?

Luca

His messy writing covered the paper that Harry closed his fist around. His feet stalked over to the garbage and threw it into the trash.

You’re fucking with him so badly, so terribly, why are treating him like this?

He doesn’t feel any better that he tried to be reasonable, trying to get you to understand that your endeavors couldn’t be consistent, it would be too much for the both of you.

But, it’s tempting… so tempting to want to pull you in after class and tell you that he’s done with your antics and to take him back. Go back to being his sweet bunny with doe eyes and bitten lips, go back to writing his nickname across the page of your test and showing him your sweet plump cheeks.

It’s already bad enough he’s coming into his hand every night just thinking about your pussy around him again. Your sweet voice telling him your dirty thoughts, the ones that have been on your mind since meeting. He wants more of you, he needs more honestly, and the way you’re acting isn’t helping him at all.

He can deal with you being with Luca because Harry knows deep down he doesn’t satisfy you the way you like. He’s certain you don’t fancy him much and is just using him to toy with his feelings, but he’ll accept that.

It’s Friday night and it’s the annual parent teacher meeting. Students in their pressed and polished uniforms standing alongside their parents as they walk across campus displaying to them their life while here.

Harry hasn’t seen you yet and he’s thankful, he’s suppose to meet your mother and he’s trying to keep his nerves at bay. His fingers are tapping timidly inside his pocket as he smiles at Gabriel's mother who boasts about the upcoming lacrosse tournament.

His eyes watch the way her skin folds over in wrinkles when she smiles happily, while her son looks annoyed and Harry can’t help the breathless laugh that leaves him when noticing.

“The boys have been putting in great work this year, I’m sure we’ll be getting the trophy.” Harry beams while Gabriel rolls his eyes at his teacher.

“It’s all he talks about when I call him… but, let’s me not keep you, we still have to see Mrs. Randall.” Fading auburn hair shifting with each nod of her head as she leaves the community hall looking for the science teacher.

It’s when the loving mother exits the door does he see his bunny slip in. Manicure and dazzling accessories shining over your shoulder as your mother walks into the room, and it isn’t the sight of her that has Harry shocked, no, it’s the man that steps through right after with tattoos littered in the revealing parts of his suit. All over his hands and up his neck, if Harry were to assume, he would be around his age, with thick beard growing in and slight tiredness swelling around his eyes.

He can tell from his appearance you don’t look quite similar, you resemble your mother more than anything but he doesn’t stare too long. Not with the way you begin to walk towards him with both parents on either side.

The chatter in the room is filled with other guardians and teachers making small talk either about the curriculum or the school's pretentious history, and somehow in all that noise it doesn’t seem to drown out the footsteps of bodies making their way over to him.

“Mr. Styles?” Thin lips of your mother sing in a cheerful tune as she sways from side to side.

He remembers you telling him about your mother. How she sent you to school once given the chance, yet she’s all bubbly and happy as if you have a place in her life, as if all the words you spoke were nothing but pure lies.

“Yes ma’am, that’s me!” Harry smiles softly, hand reaching out and she takes it genuinely. Soft touch enveloping him in a strong shake as he bows his head.

“You must be Y/N mother,” He continues, their hands parting as he looks down at you. For once your sight is looking up at him, your attention actually focus on him, and it makes Harry swallow heavily.

“She has told me so much about you, all very good things! Saying how you’ve made her enjoy history even, she was never quite fond of it in her past schoolings but, you’ve made it her favorite!”

His brows raise up at that, mouth parting slightly in shock before grinning happily looking between you and your mother. So, you’ve been telling her about him? And saying his teachings are your favorite subject. You’re confusing him with your hot and cold games, but it’s even worse that he enjoys being in the middle of it.

“I never knew she said that? I’m so happy to hear,” Harry smiles before his hand is turning towards the man to the left of you. “And you must be Mr—”

“—Malik.”

His words cut off the teacher to correct him but doesn’t stop them from their hands meeting, strong grip over each other as his brown eyes look over him longingly, examining every inch of him.

“My apologies…” Harry sighs before turning to your mother to divert his gaze from your step-father. “But yes, she’s doing amazing in class. I'm glad it’s become her favorite.”

And he sees the way your face begins to heat up, how your eyes watched every motion of him shaking your father’s hand as if stunned this moment is happening. Harry wants to laugh, he wants to chuckle in your face because of course he’s caught you again, lying about having a father figure, this is cold bunny.

“Oh! Mom, they have that sparkling juice I was talking about, the one you should use for the dinner?” Your voice enters the conversation nervously as you look towards her. Hand going to her elbow as you direct her to the assortment of drinks and snacks on the table under the bulletin board.

“Just one second!” Your mother smiles at Harry before letting you lead her away.

Before Harry can even admire the sight of you all flustered and caught up from your parents meeting the teacher you’ve been tormenting for months, the laugh next to him has his direction turning towards the heavily tattoo man.

“Isn’t she funny?” Mr. Malik asks, lips tugged to the side as he shuffles on his feet. Harry can’t help but take one of his hands out of its confines and cough into it.

“Yes, she has quite the humor,” He agrees, fingers running over his hips smoothly as he shifts his posture.

Your step-father is looking up at him with such a questioning glare that Harry can feel his ears begin to beat with warmth, his eyes dying to break the fight over whatever is crossing his mind.

You always have tricks up your sleeves, always have another way to shine your dazzling teeth to get away with something else, and it’s another one of those moments. Body turned away from your daddy and father ignoring the fact they’re in the same room.

Aren’t you a nervous little thing when all caught up? It’s quite adorable.

“Are you playing?”

The question draws Harry’s eyebrows together, lips parting and sight concentrated heavier on the man next to him.

“I’m sorry?”

“With cherry? Are you playing with her?”

Cherry? His bunny is cherry to him. Oh? So this is why you’re so nervous and looking more distraught than when he caught you with that note.

You’re not nervous at the fact Harry knows you lied about your parents, but the fact you already had a father figure in your life, one that plays with you already and does everything that he wants when given the chance. That’s why you ran away.

“Oh? I —I didn’t… I haven’t…” Harry’s voice trails off as his sight goes towards you pouring another glass of the grape juice for your mother to try.

“So, it’s true then?” His eyes trail back to the older man who holds a smug grin, and when his hand pats down on his shoulder roughly, it makes Harry let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“I must say… she does get what she wants.” Mr. Malik sight combs over the teacher before releasing his hold.

It has Harry relaxing and throat clear as his nose crinkles up. His bunny with someone else? He could get over Luca, he really could care less… but the man in front of him —the one you lied about so innocently— is standing before him not even surprised by the teachers place in your life, you’ve broken his heart bunny.

“Is she always like this?” Harry finds himself asking without thought, his brows relaxing as he tries to collect all the memories of everything you said from the first encounter.

“If you’re who she likes, yeah I guess… I’m not sure how it works in her head, she got me a few years ago…” Mr. Malik admits before breaking their gaze and looking over at you, and Harry can’t stop himself from doing it also. “You know, it really did catch me off guard when I found out about what she did first semester.”

Harry’s fingers curl in on themselves from hearing the truth. So it was all true, you did try to seduce a teacher, that’s why you’re at this school. That’s why you play this game with him, because you like this attention… you like having your way with the people you desire, you’re so dirty bunny.

“I didn’t know that,” He says, with hands crossing over his chest as he now leans against the brick wall. The relevance of the news has Mr. Malik turning, his eyebrows furrowed with a cheesy grin.

“Really?” He says with a shake of his head, body relaxing next to the teacher.

“I also didn’t know about you… I mean, being her father and all.”

“Step.” He emphasizes giving a pointed look, and Harry nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Yes, step-father.” He confirms before whistling weakly.

Your lies are finally spread out for the both of them to see. It really took today for him to see past everything and get the real information about you that he really wanted, the one he’s been seeking from the beginning.

His mind is a whirlwind of emotions and memories of what you both shared in such little time. “It’s only you, I’m serious sir.” Those were your words, said with such purity he believed you. But now it’s so clear how you like to be shared, how you like to be passed around for everyone.

Harry thought all this time that what you really needed was mentorship, soon that turned into some well deserved attention, but now, he thinks he sees your true intentions, the real reason why your eyes glimmer with happiness every time.

“I purpose we make some changes to her game,” Mr. Malik remarks, his white teeth showing as his lips stretch, and Harry can’t help but nod in agreement.

“I think we should make some new rules.”

[deadmeat666]

COURT FUCK hoshiumi korai x top amab reader

warnings. public sex, creampie, extremely shameless kourai, exhibitionism, someone took a picture of them going at it in the end. and the biggest one is extremely bad and rushed writing.

A/N. guys i love him so much you don't even know. this is based off adlers hoshiumi because he's so cute. NOT proofread cuz im lazy like that.

minors, fujoshis and blank blogs DNI.

Loud cheering were heard in the background, but it felt like the only sounds you were hearing are skin on skin contact and Kourai's shameless moaning. You tried to remember what even got you here in the first place, but you'd immediately be snapped out of your though when his hole would squeeze, sucking in your cock hungrily, incaging it inside his tight hole.

At this point, you were basically multitasking. Holding his hips in place as you continue to shape his inside into the shape of your cock, as you continue to search in your mind for at least, at least some kind of a lead.

God, of course he had to have such an intoxicating body. Was this on purpose? His milky skin flushed as sweats trickled down, the way you were holding his hips so hard to leave a bruise on his soft flesh. His moans. God, his moans. They echoed through your ears, encouraging you to go harder, faster, leave the Hoshiumi Kourai all knocked up.

Ah. You remembered now. It was after a match against Schweiden Adlers. Ultimately, your team had lost. But Kourai was greedy. He felt like a nice, clean victory over your team wasn't enough for him, no. He wanted more. Something that'd leave him all satisfied—not really. He'd still come crawling back at you, begging on his knees, wanting more, more and more, every hour of the day, 24/7. In different position every time. Oh, you both are in public? Well, they all can watch! He loves the thrill of someone or even multiple people recording him. Waking up next morning in your bed, all sore and nicely bred. He'd check his phone specifically Twitter (now branded to X but I can't bring myself to write it) to see him all over the frontpage, with you absolutely fucking him like a wild animal. But let's put all of that aside for now.

You couldn't tell if people noticed. Both of you were engaging it in a semi-secluded corner of the court. The next round had already kicked off. Maybe Hoshiumi was hoping for the people on the stands to take notice and tear their attention away from the game, onto the both of you. Maybe not and he'd like to keep all this moment all to himself, he thought that nobody deserved to see the lewd moment between the both of you. Selfish.

You relished in the way his ass would jiggle the second your pelvis would make contact with it, the way your cock would disappear in and out of him, releasing lewd wet noises and leaving your cock coated with a brand new glossy wet shine everytime.

You also appreciated the little details, too. You loved seeing his white hair bouncing with every thrusts, the way his eyes would slightly cross when your tip would force to his prostate. The light blush coating his cheeks, the drool that would escape through his lips that was currently biting his lip, dripping down to his chin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This all felt too fucking good. It was bound to happen. You shot your seed into him, maybe a little too much but was Kourai even complaining? Hell no! It would be unreasonable for him to do so. Your cum felt so warm inside of him, his hole tightening around your shaft like he was trying to milk all cum left in your balls dry-

Click

It sounded like the sound of a camera shutter going on. Whoever that was, they probably acquired a new getting off material.

[sku11s1asher]

hi! i loved what you wrote for my request 😭 it was so cute, i didn't really specify it bc i forgot but yeah u did it amazing <33

and yeah u can totally make a part 2! actually i was thinking about it bc i can imagine a meeting between furina and the natlan archon while neuvi and reader are just giving glances to eachother 😭 reader looking like a total meanace but in his mind like "damn he's handsome" almost burning his cheeks and the seat lmao

neuvillette x m! reader (part 1)

note: ngl i feel like i do good at posting then smth with school pops up and i don’t post for like a month.. sorry y’all. also please tell me im not the only one who’s been on and off sick for the past month, rn i have a runny nose and a sore throat AGAIN. i just got over that like, barely 2 weeks ago.

tw: y/n is a bit of a weirdo with his thoughts since he doesn’t understand anything w/ love, internal homophobia (not really but kinda?), y/n is all over the place

After centuries of fighting, killing, and not showing emotions to anyone, all that can end because of a guy with beautiful long hair. The more y/n thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. He’s known for being a fearless and intimidating warrior, just for that whole facade to disappear just over a man out of all things.

This whole scenario came into place because his nation archon just had to have a meeting with Fontaine's archon, Furina, at least y/n thinks that’s her name. The meeting consisted of figuring out how to make the justice system within Natlan better and a way to make transportation easier between the two nations. y/n didn’t pay attention to the little details, he was only there to ‘protect’ his archon and make sure things went smoothly.

However, he didn’t realize that the other archon would be bringing a guest with her until a day before the meeting. It did tick y/n off a little bit that he would get notified so late but does it really matter? All y/n is doing is protecting and making sure everything doesn’t go south.

Well, it did go a bit south, as soon as Furina's guest arrived, y/n's mouth went dry. That man did things to him that he didn’t even know could happen. Maybe it was the long hair on the other man that made y/n feel warm inside, it definitely couldn’t have been the slight scent he had. No, definitely not.

Okay, y/n takes that back, he feels like he’s getting intoxicated by the proximity of the other male. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the guest, was a dragon, all it took was a quick look and a secret deep breath to figure it out. He had it figured out, his body wasn’t used to being by another dragon, and he hadn’t seen one in what, centuries? This feeling would go away in maybe 20 minutes, hopefully.

20 minutes later and y/n feels like he’s going to light the whole place on fire. His whole body feels like it’s melting, and to no one’s surprise, it’s all due to the long-haired man in front of him. The stranger might genuinely be the hottest person y/n has ever seen in his entire life. That long hair makes y/n want to run his fingers through it, maybe brush it, but that might be a bit too much to think about.

Once y/n saw the man look at him, he quickly looked away, how embarrassing.. he got caught staring hardcore. He took a deep breath before listening back into the conversation, “Ah, yes, I suppose it would do both nations good to do something like that. Maybe combining a bit of power.” the lovey talk of archons, always talking about power; like it’s the only thing that matters to them.

Power is important though, y/n is in the position he’s in right now because of how powerful he is. In complete honesty, he’s probably too powerful for his own good, only knowing how to use it to protect his nation from people deemed as enemies; even if they aren’t in the public eye. Power rules everything at the end of the day, nothing can function without power.

The more he listens into the conversation, the more he realizes he was glad he was never born as an archon; he’s been around one most of his life and it’s always been boring. Listening in did provide small details though, like the mysterious man’s name.

While y/n was somewhat able to keep his focus off of the other dragon in the room, he managed to not burn anything. But, he had a feeling his archon caught on as they gave him a questionable look; it was a very subtle one that only he could catch onto but it was obvious they knew something. Nothing is going on though, right? The man can’t help it if he gets a bit flustered whenever he remembers Neuvillette is near him.

Gosh, y/n probably looks like a blushed teenager who just confessed to his crush. Well, he at least thought he did. To everyone else though, he looked like he was on guard and was going to fight anyone who even took a step too close to his and the Natlan archon's bubble. y/ns hand accidentally gazed at the chair near him, which caused the leather to burn where his touch was. Good thing no one was looking, right?

y/n couldn’t wait any longer for this meeting to be over, his brain was thinking too many things while he was focusing on every single move everyone else did. It would be overwhelming for anyone who wasn’t trained and as skilled as he was, but that tiny overwhelming feeling didn’t compare to how fast his heart was beating. y/n hoped the other male couldn’t pick up how he was feeling, thankfully Fontaine's archon seemed to be happy with the deal she and the other archon came up with.

In Neuvillette's mind, he could tell that the fire dragon was on edge. He could also tell how much the dragon was staring at him, it was a little nerve-racking. Once Neuvillette caught a glance at the chair that was touched, it made him a bit surprised but he didn’t show it. Maybe he would talk to the other male after the meeting, for work-related things of course!

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

hello!! um I really liked the whole Military Creator you've written!

I'm wondering how would some of the boys/men react to that!

for example, Zhongli/Xiao as they have fought in wars before or Childe for his bloodlust. Feel free to add anyone you want too!

Headcanons: Zhongli, Xiao, and Childe Reacting to Reader being a Veteran Military Soldier.

Ah, I see, Anon! Here y'all go :) I hope you enjoy it!

Click Me For the Women Version!

Disclaimers: Might be OOC, Implied Violence/Battle, Mentions of Scars!)

Zhongli

This man. This old immortal man that is a dragon. He knows war like the back of his hand. Kinda quite literally, since once upon a time, some people hailed him as the God of War (Sorry Murata).

To hear that Reader was a former Military Officer for a nation you didn't run nor found, you just increased Zhongli's respect by a HUGE amount. There's no denying it.

"If you don't mind, Your Grace, may you tell me a few stories of your past experiences in battle?" Very attentive listener. He won't push if you leave a few details out, even if he is curious.

Honestly loves to listen to you and your stories! He commends you for your victories, and solemn your lost of the cherished ones. Zhongli is all too familiar with war, and it's very relatable.

Your tea talks with him are now more and more interesting, to say the least. You might be invited from Zhongli for tea instead of the other way around!

Xiao

General Alatus himself...the Vigilant Yaksha doesn't take war all too well. You can say that he's got extreme PTSD from it, and really—that's pretty much an understatement alone.

Won't push the topic much, since this boy does not want you to be stuck in a traumatic time, but he is curious about your military days, since you don't seem all that bothered of what you experienced.

However! This doesn't mean he won't want to check up on you. He may not be...good with emotions, but he's certainly going to try, for the Almighty Creator's sake!

"Your Grace....forgive my prying, but are you...okay?" He cringes just listening to himself ask the question. It felt like he was trying to make your achievements an understatement or a cheap byproduct.

Constantly remind this guy that what he asked hadn't upset or hurt you. This man is notorious for self-sacrifice and self-blame.

Overall, spending time with Xiao is probably good therapy for the both of you, in a way. keep up the tea time, because this man will eventually open up and actually relax and enjoy tea with you!

Childe

A little too thrilled to hear that the Almighty Creator has gone through war.

Immediately pounces on the matter. No cap.

"Your Grace, care to share some battle experiences with me?" Has an absolute gleeful and menacing smile on his face as his dead eyes shine brightly at you, boring into your soul.

Of course, he won't push for details—boy just wants to know the battles and fights you were in.

However, that doesn't mean he's heartless. He'll share your sentiment if a battle brought loss to your loved ones. Childe himself can't imagine losing one of his siblings. Ever.

Tea time with Childe is basically verbal sparring. You both are fighting by comparing your battles with one another. And it never ends.

And that's it! I hope you all like it :) Sorry for being so inactive these days—motivation keeps killing me, I swear. See you all around soon!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: If you're waiting for The Lost Shining God of Celestia or Forver In My Hold finale part—It's coming, don't worry! My brain isn't just motivated just yet, but it will be it out!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 5!!!!!

Okay I promised I'd share my Splinter reference notes, so here I am! Also wanna take a moment to thank everyone reblogging the prev. parts. All the tags/notes are so sweet!!! Anyway, here's our one and only Rat Man,

Splinter Character Notes

Language Habits:

Catchphrase: "HOOOOOT SOUP!!!"

Will yell "whoa/oh nelly!" when in a tight spot or stumbling around

Makes puns/dad jokes, and laughs at said jokes to himself

A poor liar, will skirt around the truth until you drop it

Penchant for interrupting people if he's not interested, devout user of "yada, yada", "ah, bup, bup, bup"

Verbalizes his attacks/moves, something his sons pick up on. Could be a habit picked up from his action star days, such moves include: lights off jitsu, and slow motion jitsu

Uses 2010's slang, (i.e. "totes", "chillaxed"), could see him incorrectly using up to date slang to embarrass his boys

In a group refers to his sons as "boys"

One by one will refer to his sons by their designated colors, but will pull out the full name (not nickname) if the situation is serious

Also refers to Donnie as "the funny one"

Personality:

A performer, well he is an actor after all. He knows how to captivate an audience. Splinter likes attention--something that may be connected to his strict childhood with high expectations--but he also performs for his boys. To keep them happy, but most importantly safe. This also means he keeps his true emotions tucked closely to his chest

Jovial. Despite his dark past and heavy responsibility thrust upon him at a young age, Splinter is always laughing. He finds the fun in everything

Secretive. As mentioned before, Splinter tends to keep things close to his chest. Despite this, he's a terrible liar. He'll just avoid the truth until it comes back to bite him in the ass. This makes him sometimes a little emotionally unavailable

Lazy. He always finds the easiest way to do something, and procrastinate on his responsibilities as long as possible

Vain. He's glory seeking for all the proper attention he lost in his youth. So the Lou Jitsu aspect of his life boosted his ego in irreparable ways. He also uses the identity of Lou Jitsu to escape from the idea of being stuck as a rat. Glorifying the past is way to find comfort for him

Adrenaline junkie. Part of that glory-seeking and glorification of the past manifests into him needing adrenaline to feel alive. (i.e. when he steals the tank)

Attentive and empathetic. He can be a little hare-brained when it comes to remembering the details, but he's always very attentive to his sons needs. In flashbacks he's shown to supply them with items needed for their interests (i.e. little Mikey gets art supplies), and always apologizes when he messes up (i.e. the conversation he had with Donnie). This empathy also extends to other people and animals, as he was sympathetic with Cassandra when she was lamenting about the foot clan and was immediately worried about the turtles Draxum had in his lab

Protective. He would sacrifice everything to save his sons, and he does

Miscellaneous:

His tail is Very expressive, and one of the most active parts of his body, so if you want to subtley show emotion I'd focus on that

Has a Lou Jitsu body pillow

Remembers all his stunt double's names

Snores loudly

Talented singer, can sing opera and lived next to a karaoke bar in Japan

The show he watches the most is called "Soapy Treadmill", a Japanese game show where they throw things like scorpions at people who are soapy on treadmills

Has a "do not touch!" cabinet, full of trophies, mystic artifacts, and mementos of his past

I have a List of all the mentioned Lou Jitsu movie names mentioned in S1, but I'm probably gonna wait till the end of my S2 rewatch and post it separately (it's also long too). Will link here!

I'm also gonna add a recommendation here at the end.

This is for the white and non East Asian folks. I'm not as well-versed in East Asian or Japanese culture, but Splinter is a first generation immigrant! He keeps a distance from his heritage because of the trauma of his youth, and the role Lou Jitsu probably also forced him to westernize his identity to make it more palpable to Hollywood. But it would be a disservice to sever parts of his identity, because one is uncomfortable or not knowledgeable in writing it.

For my white folks intimidated by writing a person of color because they want to get it right, research always helps. Research helps with everything!!! writingwithcolor here on tumblr actually has a lot of useful resources, here's their guideline, and a research chart one of their moderators created, which I personally found to be very helpful. I believe their ask box is closed right now, but if you ask questions in the future be nice!!!!

Anyway I'm gonna do April next :)

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Six

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

And we back at it again with the PJO AU

The new series on Disney+ right? Like, that's soon and I'm fucking excited to start watching it omfg

Anyway, hope you enjoy this one! A little more Steddie flirting and some of Steve being a goddess's favorite little guy lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

-----

"Your, ah, bat," Chiron says, glancing at said weapon leaning against the side of Steve's chair, "it's effective against monsters?"

Around them, the sound of chewing can be heard as the kids descend on the snacks and refilling cups. Dustin, Max, and Erica in particular have chubby cheeks as they shove cookies into their mouths. In comparison, Steve hasn't touched a thing on the table. Not because he doesn't want to, of course, but because he'd rather avoid Lucas inadvertently biting him (it's happened before, he doesn't want it to happen again).

"Max's mom gave us some Celestial bronze, Dustin figured out how to melt it down, and Will suggested embedding nails in a reinforced bat. So we did," Steve explains, shrugging once.

Sitting in the chair directly to the left of Chiron is Eddie, his fingers drumming on the table as he looks between Steve and the centaur. He's been like that for the past 15 minutes, managing to keep quiet unless he's answering a question or adding a detail about their drive up that Steve missed. It's odd to see him so....restrained, but Steve can tell he's trying to be on his best behavior, likely to give him and the kids a better chance of staying.

Chiron hums in thought, considering the kids. His gaze lingers on El the longest, watching as she sips milk tea from her cup and passes Mike a bowl of grapes when he asks for it. "And you're sure El's powers aren't permanent?" Chiron finally asks.

Steve nods once. "We've timed it before. Worst cases fade in a few hours. Since El and I are related, she can't freeze me," he explains, offering a little more information than he needs to in the hopes of earning Chiron's trust.

The centaur must see through him, but his smile isn't unkind. "I see. And do you know all of their parents? The godly ones, I mean."

Steve nods and points to each kid while listing their godly parent. At the end, he points to himself and adds, "And mine is Zeus, which was probably obvious."

"Just a little," Chiron says. He considers them all for a moment before sighing. "Well, as long as you'll take full responsibility for El and her powers, I am happy to welcome you to Camp Half-Blood."

-------

Camp Half-Blood is nice.

Steve likes the strawberry fields, he's already looking forward to giving the climbing wall a try, and Eddie's brief mention of Capture the Flag earlier has him regularly glancing at the forest. The kids seem eager to explore, too, with Dustin practically lighting up when Eddie points out the Haphaestus cabin's workshop, Will and Erica looking wistfully at the pegasus stables, Lucas and Max practically vibrating with excitement when they pass the practice arena, Mike nearly breaking off from the group to jump into sparkling water on the beach, and El tugging on Steve's hand excitedly when they pass the archery field.

The tour ends in the middle of the cabins by a fire pit. A young girl is stoking the fire, keeping it going and smiling softly as the flames dance in front of her. She glances up to meet Steve's gaze, and he immediately recognizes her. He's ready to greet Hestia when she subtly shakes her head and turns back to the fire.

Steve forces himself to look away, studying the cabins, instead. There's one for each deity, and several other groups of cabins are scattered around the area like they keep adding more. A path of mismatched stone has been paved from each one to the fire pit, keeping them all connected.

His attention is immediately drawn to a cabin with a cloud and thunderbolt above the door. It looks kind of like a marble box with huge columns, a domed roof, and bronze doors that gleam in the sun. It looks imposing, and Steve can't imagine anyone actually staying in it.

"That'll be your cabin," Eddie says, pulling Steve's attention away. He grins when Steve looks at him, rocking back and forth on his feet. "And that's the Athena cabin, the Aphrodite cabin, the Morpheus cabin, Plutus, and Nemesis. Each has a lead camper in charge of getting new campers settled."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"Well, the kids will stay in the cabins of their godly parents."

"No. They won't."

Eddie pauses, seeming to realize there's a problem. He looks at the cabins, then the kids, back to the cabins, and finally settles his gaze on Steve. "It's possible to visit between cabins, but we've never had a camper, like, not live in their parent's cabin."

"Has anyone tried?"

"Well. No."

"Does anyone live in the Zeus cabin right now?"

The moment Eddie shakes his head, Steve leads the kids toward the Zeus cabin. He feels a little resistance when he reaches the door, but he stubbornly ignores it and crosses the threshold to find an empty space. Well, mostly empty. He blinks, looking over the alcoves with golden eagles and the giant statue of Zeus in the middle. From the inside, the domed roof has mosaic clouds drifting across it with lightning bolts striking out from them.

"You've got to be kidding me," Steve says, frowning as he looks around the cabin. A cursory glance reveals that there is, in fact, a single bed somewhat hidden behind the statue of Zeus.

"I'd rather not sleep with your dad staring at me," Erica says, frowning at the statue before looking up at Steve. "I'm sure the Aphrodite cabin won't be so bad." Despite her words, her tone is reluctant, implying she'd rather not sleep with a bunch of strangers.

Steve closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to look at the kids. Eddie is at the back of the group, watching him with a curious expression. "Okay," Steve says, his tone immediately getting the kids' attention, "I'm going to ask a question, and I want honesty. Who wants to stay in their parent's cabin?"

A few seconds pass in which the kids all glance at each other, silently asking the same question to see if anyone's answer will be different. When none of them raise their hand or say anything, Steve asks, "Does that mean you'd like to stay in a cabin together?"

The kids all nod, and Eddie looks ready to speak when Steve nods and herds the children out of the cabin. He glances at the fire pit, sees Hestia is still there, and tells the group, "Just hold tight."

He strides over to the fire pit and crouches next to Hestia, waiting patiently. After a few moments, the goddess smiles at him and says, "Hello, Steve. Welcome to my hearth. Would you like a cookie?"

Steve nods and takes the chocolate chip cookie that Hestia offers. He doesn't know where she got it from, but he doesn't question it. "Lady Hestia," he says after taking a bite, "I would appreciate your assistance."

"Your father would not appreciate other children in his cabin," she says, her voice gentle and coaxing.

"The kids want to stick together," Steve says, figuring that should be more than enough explanation.

"And what do you want, Steve?"

Steve is about to answer that he wants the same when Hestia meets his gaze. The words die in his throat as he's forced to actually consider the question. What does he want? He wants the kids safe, of course, and they'll be safest with him. But he also finds himself wanting a space of his own, his eyes glancing at Eddie before quickly looking away. He likes the idea of being alone with Eddie, something that likely won't happen unless Steve can put a door between them and the rest of the world.

He takes a deep breath, the two thoughts at war within him. Before he can say anything, though, Hestia smiles. "I'm sure Lord Zeus would prefer you stay in his cabin," she says, a brief flash of dislike crossing her eyes, "so I will work with it."

"And you won't get in trouble?" Steve asks, wondering if he really needs to worry about a goddess. She's doing him a favor, though, so he can't help himself.

"There is little your father can do to me," Hestia says, shrugging as she waves a hand toward Zeus's cabin. Nothing on the outside changes, but Steve knows the inside has been completely overhauled.

He looks at Hestia and smiles brightly. "Thank you," he says, pausing before digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a pack of gum. "I can give you something better at dinner, but would you like one?"

Hestia lights up and happily takes a stick, carefully unwrapping it before popping it into her mouth. After chewing a few times, she blows a large bubble, grinning when it bursts a few seconds later. "Thank you," she says, beginning to blow another bubble. A breeze kicks up, sending a slight haze of smoke into Steve's eyes, and by the time he clears it away, Hestia is gone.

Steve stands, brushes non-existent dust off his jeans, and walks back up the steps. "Okay, let's try again," he says, flashing a grin at the kids and Eddie before opening the door.

The cabin has, thankfully, changed on the inside. It now has a skylight in the ceiling, allowing sunlight to stream into the room. There are several bunk beds pushed against the walls and three doors on the opposite side of the cabin. Each of the bunks has one of the kids' names carved into it, and the left-most door on the opposite wall has a small sign with Steve's name right in the middle of it.

"How is Zeus not smiting you right now?" Eddie asks, following the kids into the cabin and staring at everything around him.

Steve shrugs, watching as the kids choose their bunks by throwing themselves onto the beds and splaying their limbs out like starfish. He walks over to the three doors. The far right is a bathroom with multiple stalls and showers and the middle is a storage closet with cleaning supplies. He studies the door with his name on it for a moment before taking a deep breath and opening it.

The room inside is large. Like the main portion of the cabin, the room has a skylight. The walls are ringed with real clouds, all of them fluffy and white and leisurely drifting along. In one corner of the room is a small fountain covered in clouds and tiny carvings of women holding urns and smiling. A small bowl next to the fountain is filled with gold coins, and two oversized chairs are set up in the adjacent corner. The opposite wall is covered in shields and swords with one open spot that Steve knows is for his bat. In the middle of the wall, just above the spot for Steve's bat, a large crystal ball hovers, filled with lightning bolts that streak across it.

As Steve takes it all in, Eddie wanders over to the weapon wall and pokes the crystal ball, the door swinging shut behind him. His hair begins to float and stand on end from the static, and Steve snorts. "Don't mess up your hair even more," he says, grinning at Eddie as he bats his hand away.

When their fingers brush, a tiny shock passes between them, an almost imperceptible arc of lightning connecting their fingers before Steve jerks his hand away. "Sorry," he mumbles, frowning slightly. He can dismiss the other two times this has happened (he was surprised by the pool and barely maintaining control outside the camp), but a third time means it's significant, right?

"Don't apologize," Eddie says, reaching out and poking Steve's hand. Another shock passes, and Eddie grins wide. "It's cool."

"It could hurt you," Steve corrects, sliding back a step only for Eddie to follow. He frowns a little more, backing up again. Eddie follows again. They keep this up, amusement budding in Steve's chest and changing his frown into a smile, until Steve is backed up against the wall and Eddie is crowding into his space.

Eddie lights up like he's won and shifts closer. "You wouldn't hurt me, Stevie," he says, utterly confident in his assessment.

Steve snorts, raising an eyebrow at him. "You barely know me," he says.

"That's easily fixed."

"I could be a terrible person."

"You're not."

"I could be. Maybe this is all an act."

Eddie hums softly, leaning closer until their hands are close to brushing and they're inches apart. A low buzz starts to build under Steve's skin, reaching out to Eddie with such desperation that Steve doesn't think before grabbing his hand. Tiny sparks pass between their palms again, and Steve somehow feels himself calming down.

"I don't mind falling for it," Eddie whispers, his smile softening, and Steve finds himself thinking "it" probably isn't the word Eddie actually wanted to use.

He swallows around a sudden lump of nerves in his throat, lost for words and about to just turn to action (kissing seems like a pretty good action right now) when one of the kids bangs on the door. Eddie jerks back, blinking a few times as his cheeks start to flush. "Steve!" Lucas shouts, knocking on the door again, "C'mon, man, we wanna see more of the camp."

Steve swallows again, noting the way Eddie's gaze drops to his throat, and quickly looks away. He pulls the door open, somewhere between grateful for and annoyed by the interruption. "Have you guys figured out who's sleeping where?" he asks, letting himself get distracted by Lucas rolling his eyes and Dustin shouting about Mike stealing his bunk.

------

Tage List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer, @steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze, @melodymeddler, @lololol-1234, @sageclipse, @steddiehyperfixation, @livelaughlexa, @genderless-spoon

[mixelation]

i was like "i should towards finishing my fics on ao3" and then i opened google docs and wrote some other nonsense instead

anyway here's the minato-and-naruto quasi time travel thing i keep threatening to write

The problem with Hiraishin accidents was that they tended to be… strange. Most jutsu accidents ended with an explosion or a blade slipping or something like that. Hiraishin accidents ended with you standing in random places, sometimes with random pieces of clothing missing. 

Minato was a little surprised to end up in a park, but not immediately worried. He was still in Konoha, and all of his clothes were in place. The interesting part was that when he tried his experiment, it had been 2 PM at the height of summer. Now it was dark and markedly cold. 

He was in a park near the outskirts of the village. Hokage monument loomed in the distance. 

Minato blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dark. This end of the park had a playground for children. It had several street lamps, but half of them were out. He was currently standing next to a slide, which was covered in graffiti. These details seemed odd to him, as he’d been an advocate for Konoha’s park maintenance. Konoha sinking all their funding and manpower into the Third Shinobi War meant Minato had grown up playing on rusty and half-broken equipment, and he’d promised his unborn son that he’d have nicer places to play. 

Minato was never going to get to be a father, and he saw this as all the more reason to support infrastructure changes to improve the village for families that did have children. He owed it to baby Naruto. 

Ah, well. This park was pretty far out. Maybe it was somehow getting missed. Minato mentally filed the problem away to address after he’d figured out if he’d… blacked out for a while, or whatever had just happened. 

There was one other presence in the whole park. A little kid was playing in a sandbox. Minato wondered where the kids’ parents were, this late at night. 

Minato approached the kid, making sure to make enough noise to be noticed. The kid froze in the middle of making some sort of… sand pile… and looked up at Minato with suspicious eyes. 

“What?” the kid demanded. He had light colored hair sticking out from under a knit hat. He scowled at Minato very seriously, which was adorably hilarious on such a young face. “What do you want?”

He must not recognize me, Minato decided, amused. It was dark, and the kid was pretty young. 

Minato squatted at the edge of the sandbox. There were random patches of grass in the sand. The kid puffed himself up, his scowl still in place. 

“Hey, kid,” Minato said. “I need some help. Can you answer some questions for me?”

“What questions?” the kid asked. “I’m allowed to be here, you know!”

Minato felt his stomach tighten slightly at the wording. It was so close to how Kushina used to talk, and this kid was about the age Naruto would be… 

Get a grip, Namikaze, Minato thought. This type of distraction was probably why he’d screwed up the Hiraishin to begin with. He needed to focus. Lots of people probably happened to speak like Kushina. 

“Actually, the park is closed after dark,” Minato said gently, and the kid looked scandalized. It was very cute. Minato winked. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Afterall, I’m here after closing too, aren’t I?”

The kid relaxed into a pout. He eyed Minato up and down, and Minato tried to look as friendly and unthreatening as possible. 

“You’re a ninja!” the kid finally said, visibly brightening. “You have a hitai-ate!”

He pointed. Minato grinned. 

“Sure am,” he agreed. 

“Then why do you need help from me?” the kid asked, eyes wide. 

At this point, it would have indeed been faster and more efficient to just teleport back to his office and ask an adult questions. But this kid was very cute, and Minato liked talking to the youth of Konoha. 

“I had a jutsu accident,” Minato said, very seriously. The kid’s eyes basically bulged out of his head. Adorable. “I’m afraid to tell any other ninja, in case they make fun of me. But you won’t make fun of me, will you?”

The kid got so excited he actually ended up on his feet, waving his arms intensely. Sand flew everywhere. 

“No way!” the kid yelled. “Everyone makes mistakes, you know! That’s what the old man says whenever I mess up, and I mess up a lot, you know. I don’t like when people make fun of me! So I won’t make fun of you, and if the other ninja make fun of you, I’ll beat them up for you!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Minato said, putting his hands up. This kid was enthusiastic. “That’s very nice of you, but you don’t need to beat anyone up for me, promise. Why don’t you hear my questions first?”

The kid took a deep breath. 

“Okay,” he said. 

“Do you know what time it is?” Minato asked. The kid shook his head. “Well, do you know what time you left your house?”

“I dunno,” the kid said. “But I didn’t come here from my house. I came from the Academy, you know! I’m training real hard to be a ninja too!”

The kid rambled for a bit, and Minato frowned as he listened to the story. The kid had had detention after class, after some prank he’d pulled on his teacher, and then he’d come immediately over to the park. He said he liked coming at night when the park was empty, because other children often wouldn’t let him play with the “good” equipment. 

“Usually I have to wait until after dinner,” the kid was saying. “But in winter it gets dark real early, you know!”

The kid did know the date. 

“Can you tell me… the year?” Minato said slowly. 

The kid told him.

If the kid was right, Minato had gone back in time five months. So that was… a new way for the Hiraishin to be messed up. What a terrifying discovery. 

When Minato, lost in thought, didn’t ask follow up questions, the kid was unperturbed. He continued to ramble about his ninja training. 

At least, if Minato really was back in time, it was only five months. If he couldn’t figure out how to undo it, he could just lay low those five months until his past self also winked out of time, and just step right back into his life. Unless that wasn’t how time travel worked…? Tobirama had written some theories on time travel and seemed to think it didn’t work that cleanly… 

“...and then I’m going to be Hokage!” the kid cried, pumping a fist in the air. 

Minato grinned, despite the situation. This kid was a riot. How had he not noticed him before? 

“I’m sure you will be,” Minato told him, reaching forward to place a hand on the kid’s hat, like he would to ruffle hair. “Thank you for helping me.”

Minato stood. He wanted to go to his office as soon as possible to get to work verifying he had time traveled, and maybe consult Tobirama’s old writings, but he also couldn’t just leave this kid alone. He’d drop him off at his home as quickly as possible, he decided. He’d love to see this kid’s reaction to realizing who he was. Or to getting to see his famous Hiraishin. 

“Hey, kid,” Minato said. “My name is Namikaze Minato. What’s yours?”

The kid didn't seem to recognize the name at all. But he beamed up at Minato, showing all his teeth. 

“This means we’re friends now, right?” the kid said. “I’m Uzumaki Naruto!”

The kid continued to ramble about how cool it was to have a ninja for a friend, but Minato couldn’t hear him. 

He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. 

Was this a joke? A sick prank by a villager? Or attack, even? A cruel, evil genjutsu, maybe? 

Minato suddenly wanted to flee, or maybe he wanted to fight, or to disappear forever. He had no name for this emotion, but he did push out his senses, tapping into his Hiraishin network. It lit up in his mind, scattered across the village. 

It was wrong. There were fewer markers than there should be. And… one extra one. 

Minato's gaze turned back to the kid in front of him. The kid had one of his markers in him, burning brightly at his stomach. 

“Hey, hey,” the kid said, taking Minato’s hand and tugging. “Are you alright, mister?”

Minato tried to dispel a genjutsu. Nothing happened. The kid was still staring up at him with blue eyes the exact shape of Kushina’s. 

“Na… naruto,” Minato said, the word feeling too intimate to be spoken out loud. The kid just blinked curiously up at him. “I… I need to take you home. Where are your parents?”

“Oh,” Naruto said. “Don’t worry about that! I don’t have any, so I can stay out as late as I want, you know.”

Minato stared at him. 

He sat on the edge of the sandbox. 

He stared at the kid some more. 

“Are you okay?” the kid asked, dubious. 

“Do you know who the Hokage is, Naruto?” Minato asked weakly. 

“Oh, yeah!” Naruto said. “Old man Third!”

“It’s not the Fourth?” Minato asked weakly. 

Naruto shook his head vigorously. “Nope! ‘Cause he’s dead.”

Minato did not have Tobirama’s theories on time travel memorized, but he had read through them. One theory was that true time travel wasn’t possible. Time was just infinite probabilities, constantly diverging with every decision anyone ever made, and one couldn’t go back in time because time simply wasn’t linear like that. 

But one could hop into a different probability. A different timeline, where things played out just slightly differently.

Minato also knew there was no way to fake a Hiraishin marker. His past self in this timeline made one and put it in this boy, the same way he’d wanted to do for baby Naruto when he realized the baby had to become the Kyuubi’s next container, before everything collapsed into Minato’s first and greatest failure as a father. 

Minato put his head between his knees and concentrated on breathing. 

“Whoa, mister!” Naruto cried and helpfully patted his back. “Are you sure you’re a ninja? You don’t seem very tough.”

Minato laughed weakly, staring at the dark grass from between his knees. “You said you wouldn’t make fun of me.”

“Yeah, well…” Naruto stuttered out. 

Naruto. 

Minato sat up and looked at his son. It was too dark to see every detail of Nruto’s face, but now that Minato knew to look, he looked just like Kushina. He even had the unusually chubby cheeks Kushina had hated as a kid. 

He wanted to hug him, to kiss his cheeks and beg for forgiveness. 

He also knew that would probably freak the poor kid out. 

“Sorry, Naruto,” he said finally. “I have… I have more questions. Can we go inside somewhere?”

Naruto squinted at him. 

“Are you some kind of loser ninja?” he asked. “You’re crying.”

Minato laughed. He was crying. How embarrassing.