𝓘𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓷 - 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭, 𝓷𝓸, 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 - 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓱, 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽. 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓲 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓓𝓪𝔃𝓪𝓲 𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓷, 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷.

Standing naked on the carpet, Dazai shrank from the cold air. Mori took a couple of dress out of the closet. He loved to dress up Alice, but unlike Dazai, she was only allowed red dresses, while Dazai could wear any.

«Dazai-kun, aren't you tired?»

The adult alpha leaned down, pressing his lips to the shaking dark crown, and froze, feeling steel in his throat.

𝓐𝓱, 𝓓𝓪𝔃𝓪𝓲, 𝓓𝓪𝔃𝓪𝓲... 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓲𝓯𝓮, 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓲 𝓼𝓪𝔀 𝓱𝓲𝓶𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓲𝓷 𝓲𝓽 - 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽, 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓹𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓶𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 - 𝓭𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼.

«Dazai-kun, don't... If you're tired or don't want to, just say so. Or just listen to me and everything will be fine.»

Mori carefully removed the knife from the little omega's hands.

«Please tell me what dress you like?»