P1nchserver

He gets around it anyway, "Maybe if (Y/n) knew how to use the zipper on her bag, she'd know what an investment is."

"Tsukki," Is Tadashi's resounding groan.

It's practically his catchphrase. You wish you could focus enough to count how many times he does that throughout the day, because you're sure 'Tsukki' would be his #1 most-spoken word.

Kei wore a grin you could hear better than you could see. And it was always audible when he teased.

Tadashi takes a seat first and you follow soon after. As you get settled, you accidentally place your palm atop his and you both pull away quick, warm, and unsure- until Kei also takes that side. He jams your body tight between the both of them and the adjustment is difficult.

"Ow-!!"

Your arms don't even have enough room; you have to hold them out in front. You put them to good use, slapping the blond's long legs.

"Hello?" You struggle, and grunt, and wiggle, and... he's unbothered. You're dealing less damage than a gnat.

"Whaaa-t?" He groans, "We've got more coming."

"So you can-?," Tadashi takes a breath and has to readjust, smushed against the wall. He tries to settle his nerves. It's unsuccessful as he snaps, "Can't you sit over there until they show up?"

They share a loaded glance over your head.

"Nahh." Kei readjusts and pushes an inconspicuously strong leg against you so he can enjoy more room, "Don't feel like it."

Your knees clack together and you shoulder him in return, digging into his ribs. He plucks his arm up and over your shared booth seat. It successfully babygirl's both you and Tadashi.

It's a tiring endeavor that you soon find isn't worth it, because he will not budge.

There were worse places to be, but Kei's bony elbow and the keys in Tadashi's pocket are something short of comfortable.

You point to a new drink advertisement on a folded, upright menu, "Y'think that's any good? Should I get it?"

"If you get it, I wanna try it," Tadashi comments, flipping through your textbook to find the chapter you stopped on in class today.

"'Scuse meee," You turn to Kei.

He's slouched back, arms half-crossed, scrolling his phone, his headphones already on.

You sigh through your nose.

The feeling on your palms pressing into his sweater, your knee sliding between his parted thighs, your breath breezing past the side of his face, makes him stiffen. He quickly readjusts his headphones. He sits up, eyes rapidly scouring you, pink tinging his pretty, slim features.

"Whaaat?" Your face is about four inches from his, and your other hand flies to his arm for stability as you wobble, "I said excuse me!"

All too quickly, you've stumbled out on the other side of him.

He mutters, "Dumbass..." And earns your cute little tongue stuck out at him, in return.

Amber eyes track your skip down the cafe to the counter-- how your skirt sways and all that peppy, simple energy. You do it again in line when you catch him watching you. Cute.

There's no hiding how long he looks over his shoulder at you, nor his explicit thoughts from Tadashi, who's busy burning holes into the side of his stupid, blond head.

"Tch," He rolls his eyes all the way into his skull when he finally sits forward in his seat again. He could feel the heat. There was hardly even a need to confirm it, anymore.

Everybody on the team. Everyone in their class (who cared enough) knew. You knew. Kei was not alone in peddling around for Tadashi to grow some balls and make a fucking move already. Afternoons of classmates: lingering in the door when, without fail, Tadashi would escort you to practice. Fellow teammates: pausing their conversations to get a glimpse of your hug as you parted ways to change. Kei: at his wit's end with these study sessions that bubbled, teeming, with opportunity, but reliably fizzled out into nothing.

There were many eyes on you, all the time, searching, scanning, for any signs of a confession happening. Selfish with the need to see it themselves but nonetheless supportive.

He spares his freckled friend, at last, a tiny look, "Relax. She's getting you a drink."

Tadashi is extra snappy. He's not just talking about the seasonal advertisement as he goes on to correct him:

"She's getting her own drink. I'll try it. You could also easily try it, Tsukki."

"Don't wanna try it." Kei mutters, arms crossing over his tingly chest again, "I want my own."

Tadashi shifts, exaggerated, and slaps an arm on the back of the booth, his whole body turned totally towards his friend. It's not like he would ever do anything, but intimidation was a rare thing on his usually mild temperament. Kei had been acting a bit like a toddler all day and Tadashi was returning it in his own way, sporting a tired-parent tone.

"Why don't you get up and get- your- own?"

Kei said nothing. But his icy stare said, quite clearly, 'I want yours.'

"'Scuse meee," You sing to Kei again.

He turns, slow, like it pains him, or is perhaps the most inconvenient favor he's ever done, by sticking his legs out in the aisle to let you through. If Tadashi wants to challenge him, Kei had an ego to protect and a point to prove.

There's an large, elaborate drink in your hands. You've got a bit of whipped cream on your chin already, and Kei -broody- misses his chance to bring it up as you feel for it and wipe your face clean.

It's a tight squeeze, still.

The outside of your thigh brushes his shoulder. Your skirt catches and lifts a little on the material.

You pay it no mind, but it's all Kei can do to collect himself before he resets. He lingers, seconds after you're seated, with his legs still in the aisle and his nose filled with the sweetness of your perfume. It's so easy.

He affixes his headphones, first, and turns to once again squish the two of you in. Harder this time. He ignores all ensuing complaints.

If only. Maybe his bouncing leg with speed this hellish torture up. Literally forcing you together.

It does succeed in making you lean into Tadashi. You can tell Kei is in a mood today and his uniform is scratchy on your bare leg.

The new order was better than your usual. You're extra satisfied. Less bummed about the prospect of spending time at the cafe today now that you've been somewhat compensated for the usually dry and fruitless effort of studying.

"Tada-shii-!! Mmm, it's soo good!" You hold the straw near to his lips, so that he has to sip it from your hands, "Here, try it- try!"

You play Keepaway when he reaches to hold it himself twice, flustered. They're both being sensitive and it makes you squint at him, calculating.

"Mm-mm, you'll drink too much of it..." You mumble, and press it closer, "Here."

His eyes bounce from the straw to your expectant face. He's drinking out of your hands with very little convincing; you're into it. It's kind of like feeding a small, timid animal. You bite back the giggly Good job and desire to coo at him like a bunny, or a cat.

Dark, thick, long eyelashes from this angle are so pretty. His complexion that was healthy. Sunkissed, athletic, and coated in an explosion of specks. Killer smile.

"I like your freckles..." Spills out, and makes him choke.

You forgot he doesn't.

"Sorry, sorry!"

You wince and yank out a bunch of napkins from the holder across the table. He has no choice but to accept your help and try to make a graceful recovery, but it's hard to come across as unaffected when now his lap is wet and your flippant comment is bouncing off the walls of his skull.

"Nice," Kei snorts, genuine laughter behind the back of his hand.

It is pretty funny, so you fail to hide your own giggles, and Tadashi gets all shy again.

What is truly funny is the two of you needing to exit the booth in order for him to get out, so he can clean up in the restroom. It's a clamber, a clumsy endeavor, with everyone stumbling out.

"It's okayyy!" You call to Tadashi. It doesn't help.

You don't have high hopes for the café soap, tap water, and electric hand dryer on his pants. He'll probably have to take them somewhere and live with the stain on his crotch for a few hours.

You share a rare look of amusement with Kei, because 1) you're often not left alone and 2) you often don't find the same things funny. This was a particularly odd exception.

You both dip your heads away. Small smiles and quiet giggles make Kei polite enough to clean up the mess you were responsible for.

"I got it."

He leans over you with no more words. He's lacking in his usual shittiness. He smells nice, but you push that all the way to the back of your mind and try to pretend like you never noticed.

The reach from his long limbs makes his position not a huge deal, but you're still warm at how he grips the wood right behind your head. You 'have' to stare at his arm while he carefully sops up the mess of your drink. You're partial to being a bit higher than him. Or, maybe it was the fact that he was doing you a favor. You don't care. You aren't in a rush to find out.

He acts like he doesn't feel your uneven breath flutter across his skin.

When you turn, because you can see him twitching, your eyes stop on his cleaning hand. He makes the napkins look very tiny.

"So big..." Falls from your lips.

He bites his cheek and looks away to hide how much he likes that. You're staring at his fingers, so his choice to take a second is nonconsequential.

Soon he's done and places all the napkins he used wadded up, back on the table to throw away later. He sits up, but doesn't turn away.

It's so easy. You are so. Easy.

Kei keeps his smile under his palm as he rests his elbow on the table, and flips his free hand palm-up, pressing the back of it into your lap as an offering.

"You've got a crush on him, don't you?"

You squirm, hesitant to take his touch and to answer his uncalled for, yet informed question. He can't help himself. You're too fun to tease.

"Do'y'want me to leave?"

"N-o..."

"Do'y'want me to tell him?"

"No," You're fidgeting just the right amount, toying with the tips of his fingers. He's got you where he wants you and he's where he wants to be.

You send a chill up through his arm as your touch skips across the lines in his palm. He shifts, nostrils flared.

It's not shy, he's not avoidant; it's just as conversational as everything else he's said today:

"Y'know I like you?"

See, Tadashi? It's so easy that even he can do it.

You pause. You're unsure what to do with that, and assume he's joking, until you feel his hand slide up into your hairline while you're busy searching his sincere expression. The 'Are you serious?' dies before it gets past your teeth.

His thumb is caressing the side of your face. It's a sensation that simplifies, dulls, everything else. With it, he gets you laser-focused on him.

Just the two of you. It rarely is this way, isn't it? Your heart is quickening and you truly look at him for the first time. He's got blond eyelashes. His glass are a bit crooked, when he presses his jaw into his hand like that. He's beautiful. He's not lying.

"Stop playing," You go to pull away, but he's rough with the angle to grip your roots and desire to keep you still. Just for a moment. He wouldn't hurt you, but he is selfish.

There's tension in the side of his face that you can see.

You like Kei. You want him around. You like the way he feels, right now.

But what you Really like is the fact that he's so direct.

"M'not joking. I do."

He knows he'll lose you eventually to his best friend.

You don't care much for quick-wittedness and sarcasm, or sick blocks, or the extra height he boasts about. You want- and deserve- somebody just as sweet as you.

Yet, for some reason, he can't roll over and let the Nice Guy win. On some level, he's certain that he's doing your future relationship a favor by making things rocky and interesting now.

Tadashi was fighting so much harder than he would've ever had to in order to win your affections.

"Tired of not saying it," He sighs.

His grip is soft, but your body feels drawn in, as if he's capable of generating a gravitational force. You don't realize that it's because you areleaning.

His eyes sink lower to your lips.

You want somebody to take your weight. Your heavy, beating heart. You had been stuck waiting around for a confession. Now you got one.

"You..." You run out of breath after just one word and your face flashes hot.

He's close.

You still don't wiggle away. You even hold your breath, and your lips are just barely sticking to one another before a heavy textbook slams onto the cafe table.

The awful shared flinch means his fingers get stuck and you're both left looking flushed, horribly guilty, and attempting to fish one of his adjustable rings from one messy lock of hair.

Kageyama's low, disgusted mutter: "Ugh... I didn't peg you for a pervert..."

The late company would've been a welcome sight three minutes ago, but all it does is throw a wrench into a track you didn't realize you were speeding down.

"Take that back, dumbass."

"Huh?? Like Hell I will! What were you doing?"

"None of your damn business, Tobio."

"Don't say my name like that!"

As those two get into it, you spiral in what was Tadashi's seat, fingertips pressing against your bottom lip. You're zoning out hard.

"Mm!" Hinata is helping himself to your drink across the table, "This is so good! Is this new?"

"Mhm..." You nod, dazed.

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my inbox.

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Ი𐑼 post note. had fun writing this one. these two are fun.

Usually i don't post masterpost before the comic itself, but, as you may guess, this comic is a... special case. The cover sums up the AU pretty much, and this isn't type of thing that i usually do. Usually i try to avoid sexual topics at all, because it makes me uncomfortable, but i guess the fact that Hazbin is an adult show and doesn't shy away from sexual topics, it kinda also makes me think about it too? And lately i felt like all the ways i torture Alastor in my works just isn't enough.

At first i didn't even want to draw this idea. But when i told it in my discord, several people got really excited about it, and wanted to see it, so, i decided to make this comic. But i thought, i'd just leave it discord exlusive, because it felt too dark and too out of character for me to make something like this on public.

And then i learned that apparently April is Sexual Assauls awarnes and prevention month and this comic fit right in the topic. And here's the thing, usually i rarely make occasion/event themed stuff in time (the pride series was an exception), so, the fact that i got this idea right before the month made me think that it wasn't a coincidence. Maybe someone out there needs to see this.

And trust, if not me, than my discord folks, that i didn't sexualize of romanticize any of this stuff and bad things are portrayed as bad, and not downplayed.

This comic is rather short, compared to my other long running comics (only 65 pages) (trust me, it's a small comic, considering that Forced broadcast may have over 200 sketched by the time of writing this post), and Alastor WILL get out of this situation, i know for some people that can be deciding factor on whether or not read the story. And no, this isn't smut. This gets as graphic as episode 4 of season 1, but nothing more. This comic may later get additional content, dedicated to Alastor dealing with trauma and his healing process.

I'm not putting tw tags on this post, but I will be tagging parts of the comic with TW tags for SA, especially those with most graphic scenes, and i will try to hide graphic pages under cut.