cutesytwt

[cutesytwt]

first post, kinda nervous.. thinking abt a fic...? pls take my thoughts for now <3

♯ content ━ chef!sukuna, college!reader, probably incorrect use of michelin stars likes & reblogs are appreciated!

chef!sukuna, a renowned chef who's been in the game since he was 19, now he's almost 28. with two michelin stars, a (as he claims) charming personality, and good looks, he's built quite a following over the years.

his pr team thinks it's a good idea to hold some sort of meet and greet event, claiming he should give back to his "fanbase," as they call it. despite how much he hates the idea, he can't deny that he has a loyal following.. so it wouldn't hurt to show his appreciation.

after a few minutes of brainstorming, or sukuna shooting down ideas until his manager got fed up, they found a happy medium. a small, intimate cooking class with ten lucky fans, decided by a raffle ticket event.

you've been a fan of chef!sukuna since he was nineteen, uploading grainy cooking tutorials from his dingy apartment. his videos pushed you through the highs and lows of high school, even into your last year of college. there's a miniscule chance you'll be chosen, but where's the harm in trying?

...or so you thought. a week later, you find yourself staring at big bold letters spelling out "congratulations." naturally, you assume it's a scam, until sukuna's pr team personally reaches out to you. the conversation with his manager is a blur of words that you barely register, the words going in one ear and out the other.

before you can blink twice, you're on a flight to LA, all expenses paid to attend a cooking class.. with a michelin chef.

..the only problem is, you're a terrible cook.

[cutesytwt]

The Parasite | part two: do it for the thrill of the rush

pairing: serial killer!sukuna x yandere!reader

summary: you never know what he's up to half of the time, you're too busy lounging around the house and spending his money to notice, just how he likes it. it probably wasn't the best idea to let curiosity get the best out you and pick the lock to the only drawer he keeps locked, but what you find inside doesn't make you love him any less.

cw: toxic relationship, obsessive reader, joe and love/tiffany and chucky vibes lowkey, violence, smut, angst, fluff

Sukuna comes home from work around 5:13, usually, sometimes there’ll be more traffic after work and it’ll add a few more minutes to his drive back home. Neither are bad— the perks of living close by and all. 

He does have his late nights at the shop though. He never specifies what he does, nor do you ask, so he’s never actually lied to you. There have been nights where you’ve stayed up wondering what the hell he was out so late for, a couple brows raised here and there since he brings flowers or some other gifts on those nights. The polaroids ended up answering those questions. 

Your plan now after finding out about his little secret? 

Nothing. 

What was there to do? Confront him? Turn him in? Ruin what you have with him?

Exactly. 

It’s business as usual and Sukuna’s getting a steak dinner tonight. You made sure to get him an extra nice cut with that money you found in his secret drawer.

5:13 p.m, right as the clock strikes you hear the front door unlock, in comes Sukuna with his resting bitch face. The aroma of garlic and seared meat wipes the scowl off faster than usual, dropping his keys on the counter and making his way towards you.

“What’s the extra nice dinner for, hm?” He warmly asks, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You didn’t do anything that’d get you in trouble did you?”

You giggle, if only he knew, “you always think I’m up to no good.”

“Yeah,” he smirks, “gotta keep an eye on you.”

“You don’t even try hiding it,” you say, turning around and leaning into a kiss. His grip on your waist tightens and it takes him a second to kiss you back, but he eventually does. 

Pulling away and taking in the expression that was on his face made it hard keeping the little secret to yourself, he looked like you just shot him. 

“Might as well just start saying you love me,” you eventually add, watching the blood drain back into his face. You gently rub his shoulders while watching him convince himself that he was just being paranoid, maybe you shouldn’t have come on that strong, especially since his last kill was just a few days ago, but you couldn’t help it. “You okay?”

“Hm?” He barely asks, snapping out of whatever thought process he was in. “...Yeah, I’m good. I’m gonna change outta these clothes before I eat.”

“Good idea.” You respond, brushing his hair back, something about it gives him reassurance.

Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say either, given how you noticed the slightest jolt in his step as he walked away, as if he were about to turn around and ask what you meant by that. You’re surprised he doesn’t, he’s more combative than this, for fun at that. 

While flipping over the last steak, you make a mental note to maybe start saying more cryptic things to him whenever he gets on your nerves. It seems to do a great job at shutting him up. Might as well think about these things now since you were in it for the long run.

You shake the thought away though, knowing you just wanted to mess with him. You glance over at the set table with the new dinnerware and wine glasses you purchased using his credit card. Who knew you’d step into a domestic role so easily after Sukuna asked you to move in. 

It’s something Naoya used to always get on your case for, which ultimately led to your nasty break up. He wanted a stay at home wife, a homemaker— you wanted none of that, with him. Guess it just took the right person to make you change your mind. 

Sukuna lazily strolls back into the kitchen in a pair of grey sweats and a white tank top as you begin to plate the food. He’s back to smiling over the dinner you surprised him with. 

You like him like this— happy and content. You’re convinced there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to keep things the way they are. 

“Thanks for this,” he remembers to say, pulling you in to press a kiss on your temple. Your wording earlier almost made him forget his manners. 

“You’re welcome baby,” you softly say, taking a seat on the chair he pulled out for you. “Wanted to spoil you a little since you work so hard.”

Sometimes he forgets it’s him who’s paying for, well, all of this. You do a really good job at that.

Sukuna momentarily thinks about last month's credit card bill and snorts, cutting into the steak. Medium rare— just how he likes it. It melts in your mouth and he savors it by chewing slowly. Though this time, he keeps his eyes on you, the expression on his face as unreadable as ever.

“You didn't... find anything weird today, did you?” he smoothly asks after a few bites.

You tilt your head, looking more amused than confused. “Weird? Like what?”

“I dunno,” he says, stabbing one of the roasted brussel sprouts with his fork a little harder than usual, “just thought you seemed kinda off when I first got back.”

You grin, sipping your wine. “Y’know… they say it’s the accusers who’ve done the things they accuse others of.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, sweet heart,” he chuckles, “just asking you a simple question.”

You sigh and set your glass down, “and I asked you what’s classified as weird, but you go straight to claiming I’m acting 'off'.”

He pauses entirely mid-cut, including his chewing. Is this really happening right now?

“I’m not claiming anything,” he mutters.

“You literally just claimed I was acting off for cooking you a nice fucking meal,” your voice hardly raises as you begin to argue. “You don’t see me asking these questions when you get home late and try to make me forget the fact with flowers.”

“I’m not— what the fuck?— I come back with fuckin’ flowers ‘cause I feel bad for working late, that’s why I bring them,” he tries to explain, but you’re already laughing at him. 

“Yeah exactly, and I feel bad about how much you work and now you’re saying I'm fucking weird for going out of my way to do something for you.”

“I didn’t fucking call you weird,” he raises his voice.

“Great, now I’m getting yelled at for defending myself.”

“There’s nothing to defend yourself over, I wasn’t accusing you of anything,” he repeats himself, throwing his arms out in frustration. 

“Whatever Sukuna,” your voice cracks as you reach for the glass of wine and down the rest of its contents in one go. 

“Are you seriously gonna cry right n—” he tries to ask, but his questions answered after seeing how glassy your eyes have gotten. “Babe, c’mon.” 

You sniffle and take a deep breath, “Just forget about it. I’m being stupid right now.”

“No you’re not, I—” he responds, quite stunned at this point as he watches a singular tear trail down your cheek. 

He stares at you with a look of shock and disbelief, brain having to go into overdrive over the ridiculousness of it all— as he should, honestly. You really didn’t mean to escalate the situation this much, it kind of just happened in the process of trying to change the subject. It doesn’t help that you’ve always been one for theatrics. But, it was either this, implying that he's cheating, or giggling like a freak over knowing about something he doesn't.

The latter would've just kept him up at night.

Note to self not do this too much, Sukuna’s not one to be underestimated. He’s smart and will eventually piece together that you’re toying with him… god forbid he finds out you so much as enjoy it. 

“I’m not dealing with this right now,” you continue, getting up from the chair to leave, but he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” He grumbles and pulls you to sit on his lap. 

Getting you to sit on his lap was the easy part, getting you to look at him was a struggle of its own. You don’t fail to remind him how stubborn you could be when each plea to look at him was met with either a whiney “no” or straight up silence. 

He thought making jokes would somehow lighten the mood. Bad idea. You teared up more and said something along the lines of “you don’t get it”... he thinks. It was kinda hard to understand you with the light, shaky heaves after each word. 

“Stop cryin’,” he mumbles softly, wiping your cheeks dry. “It’s been a long day, I didn’t know I was comin’ off as rude. I'm sorry, wasn’t tryna fight you.”

You take a deep breath, leaning your head against his chest. "I'm sorry too. I don't know what's gotten into me, just been missing you lately."

“You're good, I didn't know working overtime was starting to get to you,” he mutters, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Can't do much about my schedule, you want me to text you more updates or somethin’?”

“I don't wanna bother you while you’re working though,” you respond somewhat grudgingly. 

“You’re not a bother,” he says, wrapping his arms around. “I don’t want you thinking I’m out doin’ shit I’m not supposed to do.”

“Fine,” you mutter, “keep bringing me flowers though, I like them.”

He chuckles, “greedy ass girl— keep cooking like this and I’ll give you all the flowers in the world.”

—

“No… no… no no no no, please! I have a family— I have a wife and children— please, don’t! I can pay you, you can even drag me to the nearest, just please d—”

His newest victim is suddenly cut off by a phone ringing— Sukuna’s phone to be exact. Did the hourly texts escalate to phone calls? You fucking bet. 

It's keeps you happy though, so he doesn't mind them.

Sukuna pulls a knife out of his pocket and crouches down until he’s face to face with the trembling man, “make one sound and I’m gutting you like a fuckin’ fish, got it?” 

As if he wasn’t already planning to do that in the first place for leaving a bad review of his shop over a year ago. 

The man frantically nods, thinking the phone call somehow saved his life, especially after faintly hearing the voice on the other line. It sounded like a woman complaining, a wife or girlfriend perhaps? 

Didn’t matter, it was something they had in common, his wife’s a bitch too. He could use it to someone humanize himself, so Sukuna doesn’t fucking kill him.

“Where are you? You said you’d be home at 8,” you huff.

He said he’d be home around eight.

It’s also only 8:15, but he refrains from responding with that. He’d do just about anything to avoid fighting with you. You just burst out crying every time and the last thing he wants right now is feeling anything along the lines of guilt or remorse.

“I know, ‘m closing up the shop right now,” he says in response, closely eyeing victim number... he stopped counting a while ago. 

“Kay’, hurry up, the foods gonna be cold,” you say. He can just see the little pout on your face, bringing a little smile to his face. 

“Can’t have that now, can we?” he chuckles, as if there wasn't a bloody, battered man right before him, “I’ll be home soon, baby. Promise.” 

Haruta, the man’s actual name, closely listens to the conversation. Holding on to any piece of information he could get, as if it were his life-line. 

It was his lifeline, it’s all he had at this point. 

But all he could get from the short interaction was that Sukuna is just a man trying to appease his girlfriend, a dog on a leash if you ask him. 

That much is known when he stays on the phone for another minute or so, responding with only either mhm or of course, save for the pet names here and there.

“Alright, closin’ up right now,” Sukuna says warmly, “love you.” 

He doesn’t look at the screen as he hangs up, and continues to look at Haruta Except this time he’s looking at him as if it was his fault Sukuna got yelled at. He takes a look at the knife in his hand and contemplates if he should even use it, eventually tossing it aside after realizing he’d have to clean himself up afterwards. 

“No wait,” Haruta chokes out as Sukuna reaches forward, “wait wait wait wait w—” 

Snap.

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[cutesytwt]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll” and “kitten”, use of y/n, use of “good girl”, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: I love how I started out on Tumblr as a Gojo girlie, but I quickly became a Toji girlie. However, I write the most fics about Sukuna. He’s just so interesting. I want to eat him.

Part one. | Part two.

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

Nothing could ruin the rest of your night, nothing.

Not when you were counting up the money you made from tonight alone, and it was enough to keep you steady for over three months. You might not even have to work this job for long. Student loans be damned.

You were sat at the bar after closing. Your phone screen dimly illuminated that it was well past four in the morning, and your battery was running low.

The club was much less intimidating now. The music was dulled down to a low hum. The lights were on, exposing the club for what it actually looked like. Janitorial services were walking around while disinfecting every surface imaginable.

Honestly, the stranger’s words that he would be back had long left your mind. At first, you were nervous. You kept looking to the door, expecting for him to be there. You were jumpier too, and you started looking at your customers wearier.

Then, you realized it was probably a hollow threat. He had clearly had business with the Gojo clan, and he may not even make it out alive from that.

Yorozu was wiping down the bar and cleaning up. Since your customers were the last to leave, you were tasked with staying behind with her so you two could leave together. The club liked to use a buddy system for all of the girls. Of course, security personnel members were still posted at each and every corner.

“Sheeesh girl, you must have a natural talent for this,” Yorozu whistled as she watched you count through the massive pile or money before you. Most of it came from that stranger’s pocket.

“It must’ve been a hidden talent,” you meekly murmured with a small shrug, but you couldn’t bite back the small smile on your face. You felt elated, even if your feet were throbbing from the ridiculous heels you were wearing.

Yorozu grinned at you with a small laugh. She honestly found your calm and demure appearance to be charming, especially in this industry. “So humble,” she giggled. “Listen, some of the girls invest some of their money right back into the product to make sure they keep up with demand, but I don’t even think you need any of that.”

“The product? They invest in Malevolent Mass?”

“Girl no. They get work done. You know, a boob job here, tummy tuck there, a Brazilian butt lift if they’re brave enough. Remember, the product is your looks as well as the booze.”

“Oh… I don’t know,” you said sheepishly. The thought of walking around a courtroom with a BBL when you’re a lawyer didn’t necessarily strike you as professional, but to each their own.

“No, no, no, I get it. Like I said, I think you’re doing a good job with what you got. I’m trying to compliment you, silly.”

“Oh,” you exhale with a nervous laugh. You ease into the barstool, trying to remind your fight or flight instincts that Yorozu has been nothing but kind to you. You should relax around her. “Uh— I think you’re pretty too by the way.”

The bartender grins at you while she flips her high ponytail over her shoulder with a small wink. “Aww, thanks. I feel like I have the looks, but I don’t have the personality for a bottle girl. That’s why they stuck me back here.”

“Why is that?” you inquire, leaning your elbow on the bar as you prop your head up with your hand. Yorozu is working on cleaning off all the taps and nozzles.

“Because the first motherfucker to try and grab me is getting a bottle smashed across his head.”

You involuntarily laugh from the sudden bluntness of her words. Immediately, you imagine trying to defend her in court as her attorney, immediately taking a self-defense plea.

Before you can reply, tires screeching and motorcycles revving outside has you looking towards the door. Surely, it’s a couple of drunk people not realizing that the club is closed.

Then, the door swings open, and you can hear a few deep laughs echoing through the building. Security will deal with them, right?

You look up to Yorozu, wondering if she’ll end up telling them off instead, but you catch her fixing up her hair and pulling down her shirt a little bit further to expose her cleavage that was in fact — very pleasing to look at.

Feeling confused, you finally look over to who had entered the club, and your heart drops into your stomach. Instantly, your skin feels like TV static, and you have the instinct to run.

The handsome pink-haired stranger was walking towards the bar with a smirk planted on his face. His white button-up had been stained with a red splatter that you could only assume to be blood.

“Lord Sukuna,” Yorozu greets with a pretty smile.

Sukuna. You’ve heard that name before. Who was this man?

“Yorozu,” his gravely voice greets back. “Get my men a round, will ya? They deserve it.”

“Hell yeah! Drinks are on the boss tonight!”

“Boss! What about us, huh?” A security guard calls from his post on the second floor.

“The security men too, Yorozu.” He adds before he casually slides onto a barstool right next to you.

Surely, they’re just calling him boss out of terms of endearment.. You already met the manager, and this wasn’t him. Maybe he’s a friend of the owner..? Maybe…

“Good girl. You waited on me,” his voice lowly praises you as his eyes focus on your face. He finds your confusion and fear to be absolutely decadent. He’s going to savor this moment for as long as possible.

“I—“ your words get lodged in your throat as you don’t even know what to say right now. You have so many questions, but Sukuna’s men and security personnel are crowding around the bar. Everyone is too close, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself.

Yorozu planted a drink in front of every man including Sukuna, and she made one for herself. “What are we saying cheers to tonight?” she asked casually as she looked around the room.

“To the Gojo clan for being made up of a bunch of dimwits,” a man with short black hair called out, and he toasted his shot glass in the air. The rest of the men agreed, even Sukuna raised his shot glass before he tossed back his head, and the amber liquid slid down his throat.

Your eyes were zeroed in on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and you traveled your gaze over to his hand, remembering the way his fingers tested your throat out while you cried on his lap. You felt a dull heat settle between your thighs, so you clenched them together to soothe the ache.

“You said you didn’t drink,” you whispered sheepishly to Sukuna while the men hooped and hollered in the bar, bragging about the easy hits they got off on the Gojo men.

“Oh doll,” Sukuna cooed as he looked over to you. He gave you a mock pity glance. “I lied.”

“Just like you lied about being the owner?” you questioned as you went to stand from your barstool. You didn’t need this. You made enough money in one night for three months. You could find another job before then. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up in a crowd like this.

A strong hand settled on your thigh, gripping it as he applied a little pressure to keep you sat. Sukuna cocked an eyebrow at your boldness. To think you could just walk away from him so easily…

“Did I ever specifically say that I wasn’t the owner?” he asked as he sat his shot glass down on the bar.

“Another round?” Yorozu spoke up. This was the most chipper you have seen her ever.

Sukuna merely waved his hand out her with an indifference that even made you want to flinch. However, she took it in stride and made everyone else another round, skipping you and Sukuna.

You still feel her eyes dig into your face as it’s obvious you and Sukuna are engaged in a pretty serious conversation.

“No, you didn’t, but I feel like that’s just lying by omission,” you say as your eyebrows furrow slightly. You can feel your stomach twisting in knots. A swirl of emotions settle in your body: shame, fear, and inexplicable arousal.

“Oh y/n, are you really the one to talk about liars hm?”

Your name on his lips fellt like a sucker punch to the gut… and the clit. You never gave him your name, only opting for your codename, but he knew who you were. It was only a matter of time before he knew what school you went to, what you were majoring in, everything…

You’re already in too deep.

Suddenly, everyone feels to close. Your clothes are itchy, and your hair is sitting on you in the wrong way. Everyone’s too loud, and the buzzing of the lights makes you want to rip off your skin.

Your breath picks up, shifting to small pants as you try to calm yourself down. You haven’t had a panic attack in so long... why now?

“Alright, hop up. Let’s go to my office,” Sukuna says as his hand lets go of your thigh, and he gently hovers it over your lower back as he stands up from his stool.

Nothing sounds worse than going to his office, except for staying here and breaking down in front of a bunch of Yakuza members and coworkers.

Your legs wobble beneath you, but Sukuna keeps a steady hand against you, grounding you to him as he carefully guides you up stairs.

“We’re almost there. You’re okay,” he sounds like he’s trying to comfort you, but allowing him to soothe you would be like cuddling up to a venomous snake when they wrap themselves around you. He’s sizing you up, looking at you like prey.

You’d pay more attention to your surroundings if you weren’t so focused on trying not to hyperventilate. You hear a small beep before a door opens. It’s locked by a fingerprint sensor, only Sukuna could enter.

He guides you to sit down before his desk, and you hear the door shut behind you.

“Let it out,” he lowly demands as he walks over to the corner of the office. He presses a button on a fan before it blows in your general direction. You’re grateful for the cool breeze as you let out a haggard sigh.

You silently bring yourself back down to earth. You were in a sticky situation now, but you’ve done nothing wrong. Sure, Sukuna is the owner of Malevolent Mass, and sure, he had his fingers down your throat earlier, but that’s not a crime.

His large figure stands before you as he rummages through his desk for a moment. Once he finds what he’s looking for, his gaze snaps back up to you.

“You’re not letting it out,” Sukuna grumbles as he steps behind you. His large hands comb through your hair. Your eyes involuntarily close, and you hone in on your five senses to ground yourself further.

You can feel the air from the fan blowing past you, and Sukuna’s fingers are gently combing through your hair. He gathers it up into his palms. His office smells like him, of leather and bourbon with a nice manly musk as well. The fan is quiet, but you can hear the small motor buzzing as its blades are propelling around. Opening up your eyes, you recognize that his office is quite bare. It doesn’t look like he’s here all that often.

By the time you’re finally feeling better, you realize that your hair is off your shoulders, and you look up to see Sukuna standing behind you, looking down at you.

Your eyebrows furrow, and you reach behind your head to see what he did, and you feel your hair tied up in a bun, using a pen to hold it in place.

He put your hair up in a bun for you.

“Did you think I chopped it all off?” he asks, not missing a beat with his smirk. Satisfied with your calmness, he walks around his desk before taking a seat.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” you say slowly at your eyes look up to meet his. Being nervous wasn’t going to get you anywhere, you tried to remember the lessons in confidence that your law professor had given you. You straighten your back, pushing your shoulders back as you face Sukuna squarely. “So, should I call you boss too?”

He barks out a laugh from your little display. You really were nothing like anyone he’s ever met, and he’s met plenty of people from all walks of life. “Oh doll, I would much prefer if you said my name instead.”

His eyes rest upon you with an expectant gaze. He’s waiting for you to say it. He needs to hear you say his name.

“Okay… Sukuna,” you finally relent, choosing your battles wisely. “I— um,” Dammit, you’re already failing your confidence lessons. It’s something about Sukuna’s soft red eyes exploring over your face, like he’s hanging onto every word you say. “Thank you for getting me away from them and… helping me through that.”

“How precious,” Sukuna snickers as he leans back into his chair. “It’d do you well to know that everything I do is for the benefit of me, doll. Nevertheless, you’re welcome.”

“Putting my hair up in a bun benefitted you?” you press a bit, wondering just what his motives are now. Before, you assumed he was just some older rich man who was looking for a bit of play, but now… you weren’t so sure.

“I needed you calm before I sat down and spoke to you,” Sukuna answers as he watches your face carefully. He loves watching you try to piece everything together.

“Is this meeting some sort of performance review because if so, it’s rather late. I have other matters to tend to like trying to maintain some sort of proper sleeping schedule.”

“You’re rather mouthy to the man you work for, and for the man who forked up thousands of yen to you.”

A small sigh escapes you, knowing he has you under his thumb now. You should’ve never taken the money. You gave an inch, and now, he was going to take a mile.

“Oh darling, don’t look so down. I think it’s charming. It was just an observation on my part.”

You take a deep breath. You’re still at a loss for what was motivating him now. “Right… So, why am I in your office?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Sukuna says as he twirls a pen around his fingers. His digits effortlessly spin the pen in intricate circles, never losing grip or control.

“Listen— you’ve been exuberantly kind with your money, and I appreciate that, truly. But…”

“Aht, Let me finish,” he says in a lightly scolding tone. His eyes give you a disapproving look for interrupting him. “I don’t want you to work for me anymore. If anything was proven tonight, it was that you’re not cut out to be a bottle girl.”

Your jaw drops open, and your eyebrows furrow a little bit, forming a crease between them. He was firing you? How could he say that when Yorozu said you had a natural talent??

“Tch. Don’t take it as a bad thing, girl. Like I said, angels don’t last long in this industry. Consider it a favor that it’s ending with you being fired and not dead in a ditch.”

“Oh wow, thank you. How should I ever repay you?” you ask bitterly, barely holding back frustrated tears as they threatened to spill from your eyes. Your fists clenched at the hem of your dress. It’s just one setback after another.

“If you must, you can crawl under this desk and show me just how grateful you are,” Sukuna replies as he leans forward on the desk with a small smirk.

The audacity of this man makes you see red. He never misses a beat with his responses, and he’s fucking unshakable.

“So your proposal was for me to blow you for firing me-?” you ask incredulously.

“Oh doll, that would really be a treat, but no. I’m wanting something that can’t be obtained in just one night.”

“Please—“ you say before you pinch the bridge of your nose. You take a deep breath. Emotions don’t belong in negotiation, and that’s exactly what this is. “Can you be a little less cryptic? It’s been a long night, and to top it all off, I just got fired from the only job I’ve had.”

Sukuna’s quiet for a moment. His eyes roam over you before it looks like he finally takes pity on you. “Alright, I don’t want you working for me at Malevolent Mass. I think your set of skills would best be allocated elsewhere. Instead, I wanted to offer you a proposition.

“It’s clear that you’re money motivated, and before you throw some sort of tantrum, I’m not saying that as a bad thing. It’s just a fact. I want to support you through school, and in return, I just need you to be available to me.”

You stare for a long minute. Available to him. You could only guess what he meant by that. “You want a sugar baby,” you say slowly, narrowing your gaze at him.

The thought of letting him do more with his fingers than train your throat crosses your mind. You have to cross your legs to soothe the small thrumming feeling you feel deep in your core.

“Mmm, not quite. I’m not offering to buy you cute little outfits and fund your next beach trip. I’m offering to put you through school. Any expenses that relate to your schooling and/or living situation, I’ll handle. Actually, scratch that. I will buy you cute little outfits if they're for my eyes only,” Sukuna leans back in his chair, and his eyes stay glued onto your face.

“I can only assume that available to you means free use,” you scoff, rubbing your face in a stressed out gesture. You just made more money than you have ever seen, got fired, and propositioned to be a free use not-sugar baby all in one night.

“Smart girl,” he replies with a slight predatory grin.

You take a moment to wrack your brain for every little detail you’ve learned in your law classes so far. This deal seems like it benefits you, until he just gets tired or supporting you or until you don’t feel like doing a sexual favor for him.

He could also invoke his free use policy at any given time, demanding that you miss class or wake up in the dead of night.

There was also another problem.

“Free use of every inch of my body?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow at him.

Sukuna lets out another deep growly chuckle as he tips his head back. “This is what I get for trying to bargain with a future lawyer.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the man across from you. “You know what I’m in school for?” you ask as your heart starts to thump harshly in your chest. You haven't mentioned that small detail to anyone at Malevolent Mass with the hopes that you could keep your work life and university life separate.

“Oh y/n, I know a lot more about you than you think, kitten. I don’t just hire anyone at Malevolent Mass, and I don’t just extend offers to just anyone either.”

You glance back towards the door, wondering if you could just run from this, but horror strikes you as you realize there’s a fingerprint sensor on this side too. The only person who could leave freely was Sukuna.

“Don’t look so petrified, doll, It was really a simple background check. I have to make sure those nasty dogs from the Gojo clan don’t try and weasel their way into my space.”

You look back to face him, trying to convince yourself that he was telling the truth. It was just a protocol procedure…

“You never answered my question. Will my entire body be free use to you?” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Sukuna rests his elbows on the desk, and he gives you an almost bored expression now. “Yes. I’m not putting you through school just to experience only half of the fun, girl.”

“No thank you. I’ll pass.”

He looks interested now, peaking up at you with a small smirk. “What bothers you about that, doll? Is it the ass play? I’d be willing to give that up. Never been much of an ass guy anyway.”

“I wasn’t—“ your eyes widen as you realize you’d be giving up your whole body to whatever kinks he had in store. You hadn’t even thought about anything past vanilla sex. “No, that’s not why. I just— no deal.”

“I hear you, but tell me what’s spooking you off from taking my deal.”

“I made a promise to someone really close to me,” you don’t dare to mention your dad, not wanting Sukuna to pry anymore into your personal life than he already did. “I’m not willing to give myself up before marriage, especially not to some sort of free use deal.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He shifts in his seat as his lips twitch upwards. Things just got much more interesting for him. “Ohhh, I see. You’re a cute little virgin, huh? I should’ve known based on how you cried from merely sitting in my lap.”

You swallow thickly, feeling your fight or flight instinct kick back in. He was acting as if you told him some sort of heirloom secret in your family. Your head slowly nods, not trusting your voice to speak.

“Hm. Alright, fine. Get out of my club, girl. And don’t let me see you here as a guest either unless you want me to bend you over my lap and discipline you myself.”

“I want to propose a counter offer.”

“Huh-?” Sukuna is rarely ever caught off guard. He prides himself on knowing everyone’s next moves, probably before they even know their next move. However, he did not foresee you, a meek little thing, giving him a counter offer.

“Are you not willing to hear me out? I’ll gladly leave with the money I made tonight,” you say, calling his bluff on kicking you out.

He quickly fixes his face from a look of surprise to another confident smirk. “Go on, doll. Show me what you got.”

“No free use. You support me through school financially including my livelihood and beyond that,” You purposely leave out the part where you don’t necessarily have a livelihood, but he’ll find that out sooner or later. “We get married, and then, you can have me as free use with the only stipulation that it can’t interfere with my school or work.”

Sukuna silently reaches over, and he clicks off the fan that was blowing on you earlier during your panic attack. A heavy silence fills the room, and his eyes bore into you.

“Are you looking to become the sole beneficiary of my life insurance policy, hm?” he finally breaks the silence, and a feline grin almost spreads across his face. He’s mocking you.

“No, you keep your life insurance policy to whoever it is. I’ll even sign a prenup stating that I’m not entitled to anything of yours in the event that we get divorced due to infidelity or any nefarious acts on my end,” you explain as your fingers subconsciously twiddle together.

Sukuna's silent for another moment as he weighs everything out in his head. You look down towards your hands, wondering if you just made some grave error in trying to negotiate. You should've just taken the money he gave you and ran.

“I take great pride in understanding human motives, doll. You’ve been one of the few to truly stump me. Tell me, why would you want to marry me? Because I know good and well it’s not to fulfill some promise to someone important to you. If it was about that, you’d understand that this… certain somebody would want you to marry for love, not for a contractual agreement.”

You licked your lips to wet them as you took what Sukuna said into consideration. You suppose he’s right. Your father didn’t want you to marry for some sort of mutually beneficial contract. Perhaps, your late father wanted you to marry so that you couldn’t be so easily abandoned again like your mother had abandoned you.

“Maybe you don’t understand because you’re on the inside,” you say slowly, keeping your eyes trained onto the floor. You felt your face warm with the unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability. Tears bit into your eyes.

“On the inside of what?” his question was more like a demand.

“Despite being born in this country, I am still on the outside. I don’t have a last name that anyone takes seriously. If I want to make change, people have to look at me with reverence and respect. Even being an outsider who doesn’t understand all the great family names of this land, your last name made me take heed. Your name demanded respect, and I want that same respect in turn for myself.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen but a fraction as his pupils dilate while looking at you. From the moment he knew your name and saw your pretty face, he knew you’d be interesting, but this? This took the cake for him.

“I need an heir for my… empire. If you’re married to me, I’ll expect at least one, though you should expect that I’ll keep your hands and stomach full with wifely duties,” Sukuna said, testing to see how you’d react.

“I want my degree first,” you expertly counteroffer, looking back up at him in the eyes. You were really agreeing to marry this man and have his children, but you have no earthly idea what his ‘empire’ truly was.

“Done. What else would you like, doll?” Sukuna easily agrees. His body leans forward into the desk. You’re so fucking tantalizing to him, and you don’t even know it. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. This is the same high he chases right before a well deserved kill. The only other person who has made him feel this same way without dying was Satoru Gojo, head of the Gojo clan.

“If you’re really a…” The word ‘yakuza’ dies on your lips. People didn’t throw around that word so frivolously. “If you and your business partners outside this office subscribe to that sort of kinship, I want to be as clueless about it as El Chapo’s wife. Please, give me plausible deniability.”

You could feel your moral compass shattering just from the mere bargaining of this. Just because you didn’t see something, doesn’t make it any less real. You were just turning a blind eye to Sukuna’s crimes… just like how corporations turned a blind eye to your father.

You try to remind yourself that this was for the greater good. You wanted revenge and penance for all the workers who have suffered at the hands of greedy men. You had to play to win.

This was only temporary. Once you established yourself in the field of law, you wouldn’t need Sukuna’s last name. By that time, he would likely already grow tired of you and move onto the next young pretty thing that fell onto his lap. Both of you would move onto different things.

Sukuna let out a deep, rich laugh that only men of high status could give. “Darling, I wouldn’t dream of involving you in my work, as long as you don’t involve me in yours.”

You let out a deep breath. This was really happening. What would your father say about the life you had chosen to live?

Your future husband slowly held out his hand to you. His palm was rough and calloused. The small splatter of blood on his white button-up spoke volumes to you. This was a man you didn’t want to cross.

“A deal, then?” his voice coated you in a false sense of security. Sukuna was terrifying, but in a way, he also brought you comfort.

“Before I shake your hand, I want the right to end our engagement should I change my mind. I’ll forfeit the money, and I’ll never step foot in the entertainment district. I’ll also never utter a word about anything I may have seen during our engagement.”

Sukuna kept his hand extended towards you. “The door your eyes kept glancing to has been unlocked this entire time, darling. The fingerprint sensor isn’t even active right now. You’re free to walk away from me all the way until you say I do,”

You glanced down at his hand then up to his eyes. He’s wearing a subtle smirk that tells you that he’s comfortable right now. You take his hand, and you shake on it before you could think wiser.

“Good girl. We can go over more explicit details the next time we meet,” your future husband smiles — a real genuine smile, and he stands up from his desk. His hands go to unbuttoning his shirt.

“I—“ your words get caught in your throat as Sukuna shrugs off his button-up shirt. His muscles look as though they’ve been delicately sculpted by one of the greatest artists to ever live. His tattoo, lines and circles that seem to have no other purpose, only accentuate every hill and ditch on his body. No, Sukuna’s not some sort of man — he’s a god.

“What are you doing?” your voice is about an octave too high, betraying your nervousness. You quickly stop yourself from staring, opting to cover your eyes up with your hands.

“Oh doll, don’t be shy,” he teases with a throaty laugh. He’s enjoying watching you squirm over him. “I’m for your enjoyment now, seeing as though we’re engaged.”

You hear fabric rustling, and you take the chance to peek between your fingers to see what he’s doing. He had another shirt tucked away in his desk, and he was now buttoning it up across his chest.

His old shirt was no where to be seen. He must’ve already expertly discarded it for no one to find.

You slowly stand as well, taking the hint that this conversation was coming to an end. You look for your bag before you realize that you must’ve left it at the bar when Sukuna led you up to his office during your panic attack.

“Come, doll. I’ll take you home,” Sukuna says, beckoning to you like an owner would their dog. He opens the door, proving that it really wasn’t locked.

You slowly follow behind him. “It’s fine. I can walk or take a subway,” you say slowly. The thought of Sukuna seeing where you lived, even if you were on student housing, made your skin crawl with unease.

“Oh y/n, you have so much to learn about me,” he taunts as his hand grazes the small of your back. He carefully leads you down to the club level. The bar had mostly cleared out. You noted how Yorozu had seemingly left. So much for the buddy system. “I’m not the type of man to let my future wife navigate the entertainment district at this ungodly hour without so much of a cell phone to call for help.”

“I have a cell phone—“ you quickly protest before you pick it up off the bar. It was completely dead. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. How did he even know about that..?

“I watched the screen fade to black as you were accusing me of lying. Let this be your first lesson, your trip here was the last time you’ll be free to roam the streets of the entertainment district without some sort of protection with you.”

You swallow thickly as you slowly grab your purse. Not that the money mattered, but it was still left undisturbed on the bar. Sukuna’s eyes flickered between you and the stack of yen, as if silently telling you to take it… even if you didn’t need it now.

“Consider it a down payment,” Sukuna laughs as he grabs a helmet off the bar. Your eyes widen as you remember that he didn’t drive a car here.

Your future husband doesn’t take a moment for pause as he walked towards the doors. He holds it open for you, expecting you to follow him.

What other choice did you have? You also didn’t necessarily fancy walking home without a phone to call for help if you needed it.

He turns to face you before reaching around and pulling the pen he had meticulously placed in your hair to hold it up. Your hair fell down, and he stepped closer to you. “Have you ever ridden before?”

You slowly shake your head. You’ve never even been close to a motorcycle before, and Sukuna’s bike looks intimidating.

“Mm, I should’ve guessed by the fear in your eyes,” he laughs lowly before slowly slipping the helmet over your head. You’re rendered blind for a moment as it takes him a second to adjust the helmet to your head. His fingers delicately adjust the straps beneath your chin, making sure you’re properly secured in.

“If I would’ve known I’d have my future wife with me, I would’ve opted for the car instead of my bike. You’re lucky I’m a good driver, doll.”

Your hands go to raise your visor up so you can look him in the eyes instead of a tinted plastic meant to protect your eyes. However, Sukuna slaps the visor back down with a hearty chuckle. “Keep it down, kitten. Don’t you want to be able to see while you walk down the aisle?”

His strong hands then wrap around your waist, and he lifts you effortlessly as though you weigh nothing to him. You barely make it through a gasp before he safely settles you onto the back of his bike.

“Put your feet on the pegs,” he instructs as he carefully swings his own leg over the bike. “When we’re riding, you hold onto me, and lean with the bike not against it.”

“What does that even mean?” you shout, feeling like your heart is going to have palpitations after this ride.

“It means…” he reaches behind himself to grab your hands, and he makes you wrap your arms around his waist. He places your palms on his rock solid stomach. “Hold onto me and trust me, doll.”

You’re forced to lean into him, practically laying yourself against his muscular back. His warmth seeps into you as you hold onto him tightly. The bike roars to life.

“You ready for the ride of your life, doll?”

The beautiful neon lights of bright purples, lime greens, and cyan blues zip past you as Sukuna revs the bike. The engine purrs and whines as he drives the bike with a confidence that comes with riding for several years.

The entertainment district is at its prettiest during this hour. Not many people are out and about, but it’s still dark and the streetlights illuminate the space. It feels like it’s straight out of a dystopian science fiction movie.

The ride is mostly silent. You’re focused on the feeling of the wind in your hair and the sights that Japan has to offer. You stay wrapped around Sukuna, using his body as an anchor while it feels like you might blow away.

It gives you time to think and reflect. You’ve done more new things in the last 24 hours than you have all your life. It feels… freeing, a sort of freedom that you haven’t felt since your father was injured at his job.

A sudden thought occurs to you. You never told Sukuna which student housing you live in… Sure, he could infer that you live on student housing, but there’s still multiple housing facilities that you could live in.

Much to your dismay, he pulls up to the exact right building, and he slowly kills the engine. “How was that?” he asks as he turns over his shoulder to look at you.

Your fingers quickly fumble with the strap of your helmet, trying to peel the safety gear off of you.

Sukuna laughs quietly as he watches you struggle. He pushed himself up off the bike, so he could tend to you better. “Careful, doll. Don’t overwork yourself. I’m sure the ride wasn’t that bad.”

Once the helmet was off, you stare up at him with a heat of a thousand suns. “How do you know where I live?” you demand as your eyebrows furrow. Your lips curl into that adorable pout that makes Sukuna involuntarily grin at you.

“I already told you, doll. I don’t just let anyone work at Malevolent Mass, and I certainly don’t just offer marriage to someone I hardly know,” he says it as if it’s the most natural thing on this planet.

You’re completely speechless for a moment, reeling over just how much he knows about you. He made the deal with you knowing what he was getting himself into; however, you basically just signed yourself up for a blind sentence.

“As much as I crave the fear you’re wearing on your face, it’s late. You have class on Monday, which means you need to fix your sleeping schedule tonight. Go inside, get some rest, and make sure to charge your phone. I’ll be in touch.” You don’t even bother asking how he knows your phone number.

He reaches out to you, bracing a hand behind your head as his fingers intertwine strands of hair. He then bends over and presses his lips gently against your forehead.

A warmth blossoms over you. A simple forehead kiss was not what you were expecting from the man who fucked your mouth with his fingers and propositioned you for a free use bargain. It felt simple, sweet, innocent…

It’s almost enough to make all the anxiety lift from your shoulders, but you still yourself, reminding yourself not to fall for such frivolous tricks and pretty words… even if it was really thoughtful that he had already thought about your schooling.

“I’ll draft up a contract before our next meeting, doll.” He slides the helmet over his own head, and he pushes the visor upwards so you can gaze into his red eyes that appear soft at the moment.

Coming to your senses, you give him a weary gaze. “Written contracts only ever benefit the writer of the contract.”

You can’t see his lips, but you can tell from his eyes that he’s smirking at you like he’s proud of you for picking up on such a minor detail. “I have such a clever little wife.”

With that, his bike roars to life, and he points towards the door of your building. His intention is clear enough. You’re now to do as your future husband says.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord

[cutesytwt]

Rockstar Girlfriend 🎸

You were probably his first real listener. First fan, even. His account had no followers. No clout. No tags. He wasn’t even looking for one. He just posted banger songs—heavy and haunting. You were high out of your mind one night, scrolling through underground tracks, trying to find something that hadn’t been overplayed into dust.

Then you hit the bottom. Clicked on his album.

And it changed everything. The voice was deep, like smoke and rage. The beat was grimy and sharp. It wasn’t just rap. Or rock. Or alt. It was all of it. And none of it. It sounded like a demon crying through broken speakers.

You thought for sure he’d be famous. But he wasn’t. So you DMed him. Didn’t even think he’d see it.But that same night, he replied. You talked for hours. He asked for your number. You FaceTimed until the sky turned grey.

The next day, he invited you to his spot. To listen. To smoke. To just... be.

Honestly it could have ended badly and it would have been the worst decision you ever made. But the vibe—the intensity— You didn’t have to speak. Just your eyes did all the talking.

It wasn’t lust. Not really. It was that aching, desperate something that clutches your ribs and won’t let go. You didn’t know if he felt the same, so you played it casual.

Casual as in… Basically living together. Unspoken everything. No sex. No labels. Just you and him.

He’d send you unreleased tracks. Half-finished verses. You started running his page, organizing stuff, posting updates. You weren’t official. But you kind of became his manager. His shadow. His safe place. His favorite ear.

He never said thank you. Not in words, anyway. But every song had pieces of you in it. A line that sounded like something you once whispered. A beat that matched the rhythm of your laugh. A song titled with your birthday, but flipped backward so no one else would know.

And then it happened. One day, everything changed. Some random TikTok kid found one of the old tracks and used it for an edit. A week later—millions. Plays, likes, followers. He hated it. You watched him pace around the apartment, wild-eyed, muttering, “They don’t even get it.” “They’re just biting now.” “Where were they before?”

But you were still there. Sitting on his kitchen counter. Hoodie that wasn’t yours. Eyes tired but soft.

You handled it. Emails. DMs. Interview requests. Labels circling like vultures. You told him which ones to ignore. Which ones to play with. He let you do it. Trusted you. Only you.

He didn’t post selfies. Didn’t talk in interviews. He just kept making music. And every time, you were the first to hear it. Headphones passed between you. Knees touching. Eyes closed.

One night, he paused a track halfway through. You looked up at him. He didn’t say anything for a while.

Then “You think I’d be doing any of this if it weren’t for you?”

You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t. You just reached for the play button.But he stopped you. Caught your hand in his. Held it for a second too long. Then another.

Your chest felt like it would crack open. Still, nothing happened. Still, it was... casual.

A year into the fame, you were all the way in. No more crashing at his place—you lived there. The two of you had upgraded to a bigger apartment, one that felt more like a bunker than a home. Dark walls. Concrete floors. Unfinished ceiling that looked like it belonged in a warehouse.

But it was warm. It smelled like weed and sage and your shampoo. Music always humming from a speaker somewhere. Sometimes his guitar was just lying on the couch. Sometimes your books were. You shared space like you shared silence—easily.

You were still juggling school, barely hanging on some days, but you made time to manage his account, answer emails, line up deals. He made music and money. A lot of both. Labels wanted him. Brands begged. Venues called. You handled most of it. He hated everyone except you.

And the relationship is still undefined. Still everything.

He’d hold your hand in public. Pull you close when crossing the street. His arm would always be around your shoulders like it belonged there. To anyone watching, you were together. Like… together together. And maybe you were, just not officially. No titles. No pressure.

He kept his mystery locked up tight. Still no face. No selfies. No stories. That was about to change though. His first concert was coming, a real one. Not an underground event or livestream, but a sold-out, packed venue with screaming fans.

You asked him, quietly one night, “Are you nervous?” He just looked at you, exhaled smoke, and said, “Not about them. Just about you seeing me like that.”

You didn’t ask what he meant. Didn’t need to. Just reached over, took his hand, and held it like you always did—like it was normal. Like he was yours.

---

The city was buzzing like a live wire. You could feel it in your teeth. The venue was packed, lines curling around the block. People had signs. Painted their faces. Screamed lyrics. It was insane.

You watched from backstage, heart beating a little too fast, wearing his leather jacket and tight short black dress.

He was pacing a little, fingers twitching, jaw tight. But he looked good. Too good. Tall, jacked, inked up— black tank clinging to him, tattoos peeking from his neck to his fingers. Hair messy like always, like he rolled out of bed and still looked like a god.

No mask tonight. No hood. This time, they’d see him.

You caught his eye just before he walked out. Just looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him. You nodded once. That was enough.

Then he stepped out.

And the place. Exploded.

Screams. Like actual shrieking. Phones shot up so fast the light almost blinded you. Someone in the front fainted. A girl sobbed. The crowd was feral.

He didn’t flinch. Just walked to the mic like he owned the world. When he finally spoke— “Yeah. It’s me.” —people LOST it.

A whole different war broke out online . “WHY IS HE HOT??” “I THOUGHT HE WAS UGLY???” “HE LOOKS LIKE HE KILLS PEOPLE AND WRITES POETRY ABOUT IT.” “Someone said he was faceless—why is he the face of my future now???”

His name trended within an hour. Clips went viral before the second song ended. People were pausing videos just to zoom in on his hands, his tattoos, his jawline. New fan accounts popped up in real-time.

But he only looked at you. Once. Halfway through the set, spotlight behind him, crowd screaming his name, he glanced toward the side of the stage. Found you. Smirked like the devil. Then tore into the next song like his soul was catching fire.

When it was over, and the venue started to empty out, he came offstage drenched in sweat, hair sticking to his forehead, chest rising and falling. Still high off the energy, off the chaos. You handed him water. He took it, but didn’t drink. Just stared at you.

“They love me now,” he muttered. Then, quieter, “But I still only care what you think.”

Your throat closed up. You didn’t answer, didn’t need to.

He tossed the bottle. Stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. His hand found your face like he’d been meaning to do it for years. Fingers on your cheek, thumb brushing your lip. His forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, “Say something. Anything.”

You looked up at him, breath caught.

“You’re mine,” you said.

And this time, he kissed you.

---

The concert was over, but the night wasn’t.

You two didn’t even go back home. He tugged you into the car, adrenaline still buzzing in his veins, saying nothing but “Let’s go out.” You didn’t ask where.

The club was already dark and pulsing by the time you got there. Lights flickering red, music loud enough to feel in your ribs. People turned when you walked in, like they knew. He hadn’t even been unmasked for four hours, but already, the city recognized him.

He didn’t care. Just grab your hand and pull you to the middle of the floor. Bodies everywhere, sweat, bass, smoke. And still, it felt like it was just you two.

He was behind you, hands on your waist. Not even grinding, not all sexual—just close. Like he wanted to keep you tethered to the ground. His face buried in your neck every now and then, lips ghosting skin. You leaned into it. Eyes closed. Smiling.

Someone recorded it. Of course they did.

Posted it within minutes.

On Twitter (or X whatever that cursed app is):

@.cryboutitgrl: this man just revealed his face and already pulled up to the club with the baddest girl i’ve ever seen????

@.undergroundangel666: bro was faceless yesterday now he’s 6'4 tatted and got a mysterious girlfriend. i’m sick. 😭

@.smokysylvia: wait wait wait. is she the one from the side stage?? the one he kept looking at????

@.hotguyshateus: yeah i zoomed in. it’s her. same leather jacket. same girl. he’s in love i’m sorry.

@.helooksinlove: she whispered something to him before the encore and he kissed her after the show. we lost. I fear the album’s gonna be sad and horny now 😩

The internet was spiraling. Fan edits were already in motion. Clips of him touching your face, that blurry club video, someone even managed to catch a shot of the two of you leaving the venue— his arm around your shoulders, your head tucked into his chest.

You checked his account the next morning. A million new followers. Inbox was flooded. Everyone wanted to know: Who was she? Who was the girl?

And all he did was post a blurry photo of the two of you sitting on the floor that night, you leaning against him, laughing into your cup, and him looking at you like you were the only thing he’d ever believe in.

Caption: “She been here since zero followers. Don’t ask again.”

--------

bonus::: the first text and meet up...

It was around 2:37 AM when you messaged him.

“idk why no one knows abt you yet. this is actually insane.”

You didn’t expect a reply. Didn’t even think he’d see it.

But twenty minutes later— “yo.” One dot. No emojis.

You blinked at the screen.

“that was you?” “the message?” “yeah. thanks.”

Simple. Dry. But then he asked: “wanna hear some unreleased?”

Your breath caught. “yeah.”

He sent a file. No title. Just noise at first. Then the beat dropped— low, almost crawling. His voice— raspy, like smoke and teeth. You could barely breathe.

Before you could even process, your phone lit up again.

“what’s your number” Not a question. Not begging.

You gave it.

Thirty seconds later: FaceTime.

Your heart slammed. You almost didn’t pick up. But your thumb moved on its own.

Click.

It was dark.

No light but the red glow of a monitor on his side. Backlit tattoos. Shadows across his jawline. Hair messy. Shirtless. Sitting back in a desk chair like he owned time.

You didn’t speak. He didn’t either.

He looked at you. Eyes flickering across your face through the screen like he was studying something rare. A small smirk tugged at his lips.

“damn.”

One word. But it cracked something open.

You laughed, too soft. Told him he looked like a villain.

“good.” Then: “you real?”

You didn’t answer. Just tilted your head. Let him stare.

And then, just like that— you both started talking. Not loud. Not excited. Just low. Whispers like secrets in a church.

He showed you the corner of his room. Posters. Wires. A mic stand leaning. Unfinished lyrics on the wall in sharpie.

“i stay up all night,” he said. “no one to talk to.”

“you do now,” you whispered.

His lips twitched. He leaned forward like he was trying to see more of you through the screen.

“can i call you again?”

You bit your lip.

“i’m not hanging up.”

And you didn’t. Not until the sun started bleeding through your windows. Not until your eyelids got too heavy. He didn’t say goodbye. Just watched you drift off to sleep. And whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it:

“don’t leave.”

You woke up with your phone in your hand, battery barely alive. Your screen still had his name on it. Still connected. He never hung up.

You sat up slow, blinking through sleep. Heart pounding when you remember everything. The music. The call. His voice. The way he watched you fall asleep like he meant to remember it forever.

And then—your phone buzzed.

him: “u still down to pull up?”

No address. No time.

Just that.

And still… you replied: “drop the pin.”

You didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t even think it through. He could’ve been a killer. Could’ve chopped you up, turned you into a beat.

But your chest was quiet. Calm.

It was cold when you stepped out. Your hoodie swallowed your frame. Headphones in, but no music playing— just replaying his voice in your head like a loop. When you reached his spot, it looked like nothing. Gray building. No buzzers. Just a metal door and the pin.

You texted him once.

No reply.

Then the door creaked open. And there he was. Tall. Sleeves rolled up. Tattoos crawling up his arms. Hood half on. Eyes heavy like he hadn’t slept.

He looked at you for two full seconds before stepping back.

“come in.”

You did.

It was dark. Not scary dark—just dim. Curtains closed. Cigarette smoke faint in the air. There was a speaker set up on the floor and wires running like veins all over the place. A mic stand crooked in the corner. A mattress on the ground, black sheets. And his scent—something between weed, laundry, and the ghost of cologne.

You stood there like you were in a museum.

He didn’t touch you. Just nodded toward the couch.

“u want tea? or... water? i got like 4 capri suns too.”

You laughed. He smiled for real that time.

You stayed for hours. Then one day.

Then two.

The playlist never stopped. He let you read his notebooks. You found one where your name was scribbled on the top corner of a page.

He didn’t explain.

At night, he didn’t try anything. Just let you lay next to him, in his clothes, backs turned but feet tangled.

You remember the first time he turned to you in the dark and whispered: “i don’t like being alone anymore.”

And you said, without thinking:

“me neither.”

------

any band recommendations??

[cutesytwt]

the BEST fics on tumblr be the unfinished ones OH MY GOD BRUH😞

or the ones that say “ongoing” and it’s been like five years💔

[cutesytwt]

HOME IS THE FIRST GRAVE

toji wip !!

also on twitter/x repost to support this little artist!!

[cutesytwt]

What is with the constant fetishisation of r@pe and SA on this app and in fan fiction?? I get people have their kinks n shit but r@pe??? Really???

Not only that but the amount of p€doph!lia and ince$t is insane😟

I try not to be judgemental but I don’t get why you would want to read about yourself or someone else being SA how does that not make you uncomfortable and normalising shit like that is so not okay. It is not romance. It is not dark romance. It’s abuse and it’s gross.

I get that people are into different things and that you can’t control what you like most of the time but the normalisation of this stuff is crazy and so damaging especially to minors and victims.

I can kinda get CNC like atleast there’s consent in that but straight up violent r@pe fiction is weird and scary.

Anyway thanks for reading my lil rant!! love you all, stay happy and safe MWAH 💋

[cutesytwt]

Saw this adorable cutie while scrolling on Instagram,her name is leen and she's two years old her Instagram account is full of her adorable cooking videos. My heart melted when i checked her profile she's so precious may god give her and other Palestinians the peace they deserve,if anyone can, go and donate her i will put a screenshot of her account and put the link of her account below or if u cant then pls reblog this post

The account

Please reblog this post.

[cutesytwt]

pick your player ft. cyberbully!Sukuna x f2p!Reader

cyberbully!Sukuna who is the definition of toxic, picking fights in the chat of every game he plays, taunting after every kill just to get sick of how easily he yet again lands in the number one spot on the leaderboard

cyberbully!Sukuna who rolls his eyes the first time he hears you speak in voice chat at how quickly his teammates use their doritos-dusted fingers to type out lame pick-up lines to some faceless stranger that probably lives on the other side of the world

cyberbully!Sukuna who snipes you from across the map, once, twice, three, okay, well, enough times that he stars to wonder if you've ever even played this game before, pausing his onslaught to watch you bumble around cluelessly, your annoyingly chipper voice still laughing and making jokes in his overpriced gaming headset like he hadn't just spent fifteen minutes killing you every time you stepped out of your base

cyberbully!Sukuna who huffs at how you type out gg! :) in chat, convinced you must be missing more than a few braincells when he checks his profile later to see a friend request from you waiting for him

cyberbully!Sukuna who ends up on the same team as you a few days later, invited by one of the other idiots on his friends list, new items equipped in your inventory that you didn't know how to use properly, no-doubt gifted by the same losers who were only entertaining your shitty playing because you were a girl

cyberbully!Sukuna who scowls at the screen every time you die to some easy-to-avoid shot, finally snapping into the microphone that you should just quit if you don't know how to fucking play

cyberbully!Sukuna who gets kicked from the match, but not before he sees you left the game in the middle of the vote, the little letters by your username switching to offline

cyberbully!Sukuna whose computer pings! half an hour after midnight, your name next to the blank ? profile icon popping up accompanying a saccharinely sweet message apologizing for dragging everyone down and asking him for help

cyberbully!Sukuna who feels his chest inflate a little, because, of course you'd come to him, even if it'd be a waste of his time to teach some nobody how to last longer than thirty seconds without dying in a round, but something inside him itches at the challenge of teaching someone so useless

cyberbully!Sukuna who swears he's only replying fine because he's bored of being the best by himself

[cutesytwt]

Til’ the Day that I Die (Chapter Three)

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of, stalking, panic attacks, language, violence, character death, tiniest mention of blood

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Now were getting into it! I love me an enemies to lovers story! 😮‍💨

Part One Part Two

“I-I’m going to stay with you? I don't even know you!” Your cheeks burned as you took a step back. “B-Besides, I don't want to put you out!”

“If you were going to put me out, I wouldn't have suggested it.”

“I-I—!! Satoru!” you turned your head towards your PR manager. “T-This isn't good for publicity, right?”

Much to your horror, your managers looked at each other, sharing that annoying silent communication look. How their eyes communicated told you everything you needed to know. Deep down, you knew you didn't have any other options. The best way to keep your friends and loved ones safe is to stay away.

Which is how you found yourself in a small SUV with your bodyguard. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his navy eyes focused on the road. You swallowed hard, gripping your leggings as you tried to think of something. Even though he assured you weren't imposing, you still felt the lingering anxiety of being a burden.

What was his wife going to say?

He was bringing home some popstar, a girl who had a psychotic stalker. A stalker who was obviously dangerous, and Toji had been kind enough to invite you to stay with him, even when he had seen the damage that your stalker had done.

But in a strange way, you also felt comforted. You hated to impose, but for Toji to tell you to stay with him meant he was confident in his skills to protect you. Maybe Nanako wasn't exaggerating when she told you the Shiu Kong Security Company was the best.

“If you keep biting your lips like that, you'll make it bleed,” Toji spoke up finally, breaking the thick silence.

“Huh?” You prodded the tip of your tongue against your bottom lip, wincing at the sensitive spot you had made raw with your teeth. “I didn't even realize I was doing that.”

“Yeah, you’ve been chewing on your bottom lip like it's jerky since we got in my car.” he snickered, “am I that scary doll?”

Your cheeks felt like fire as you sank lower into your seat. “I don't think you're scary; I’m just nervous.” Which was the truth: staying with a family you didn’t know had your entire body tied in knots.

“You’re nervous?” Toji laughed, leaning back in his seat as he stopped at a red light. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s me. I mean, you heard what your manager told me, right?”

“Oh, I heard.”

The streetlights overhead illuminated his handsome features. His scar stretched out as he laughed softly, and his dark brows knitted in confusion and humor. Seeing him like that made you realize he was quite pretty, especially when he wasn't making broad assumptions about you or barking orders.

“He was very colorful—”

“Yeah, I don't know how he'd take a chuck of your side out.”

A visible shiver rushed over Toji, drawing out a giggle from you. “Yeah, well, good thing I'm not an asshole.”

“Hmm, debatable.”

Toji turned his head, mouth slightly agape as his eyes met yours. His navy eyes glittered with disbelief before a smirk tugged at the corner of his scarred lip. You sank back into your seat, biting your bottom lip, not driven by anxiety, but to hold back a laugh from the shock on his face.

“Oh, you suddenly have a voice and an attitude?”

“Hey~ you thought I was a pampered spoiled brat.”

“Yeah, well, you're still a brat.”

You weren't going to argue with him on that because, in a sense, he was right. Instead, you focused your attention on the road. “So,” you swallowed, feeling the need to keep the conversation going instead of wallowing in the silence. “Is uhm—your family isn't going to have an issue with me staying?” The street lights above illuminated the inside of the car as Tojo turned right on a street.

“Nah, my kid won't mind.” Toji glanced from his peripheral vision. He was good at reading body language and how your back straightened, and you quickly looked over at him before turning your attention back to the road, clued him into what you were thinking. “What? Is it that hard to imagine me being a dad?”

“W-What?! No, I-I didn't say that!”

“But your body language did.” Your bottom lip got sucked between your teeth again. “You’re pretty easy to read. Makes my job easy.”

“I am not easy to read.”

“Oh, you are.” Toji grinned, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest. “See, it’s all in the body language.”

Your head shot back in his direction, and Toji could feel your eyes practically burning holes into his skin. “Okay then, Mr. Expert. What am I feeling right now? If you’re so confident in your skills.” The car made another left as Toji pulled into a parking lot in front of an apartment complex.

“You aren't going to like it.” He said in an almost singsong voice as he parked the car.

“I already don’t like this whole situation, so let’s just put the cherry on top of the fucked up sundae that is my life right now.”

The air in the car felt thick as Toji unbuckled his seatbelt, allowing him to turn slightly to eye you thoroughly. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, his shirt straining against his chest as he draped his arm over his seat. As his eyes roamed your body, you could feel the trail they left, like a gentle caress over your skin. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat as you shifted, keeping your arms crossed.

You were beautiful but also very tense. You kept shifting your weight in the seat, and your eyes looked anywhere but at him directly. In a way, it was kind of cute seeing you like this. Where you weren't masking or giving him attitude, he was begging to realize this was some of your natural personality—not some persona you made, apart from playing in front of cameras and an audience. The sharp tongue, stubbornness, and anxiety seem to be the real you.

But he had a feeling he was only grazing the surface of you.

You had gone through so much lately that you probably layered yourself in different coats of wax. Hiding the version of who you were before, you became an Internet sensation. Toji was only seeing the top layer of who you were, and he was given time, he would be able to peel back the first layer of wax to reveal a new color, a new trait of yours. But even if he didn’t know who you were or what you were like before the fame, you were still relatively easy for him to read.

“Okay, you keep crossing your arms; that could be due to several things. It could be that you are uncomfortable, feeling slightly defensive, or insecure. Or it could also mean that you’re subconscious is telling you that yoy need to protect yourself because you have a certain distrust in me, which is fair because you don’t know me.” From the way your eyes widened, Toji knew he was right. “Then there’s the lip.” Promptly, you released your lips from your bottom teeth. “Biting your lip is a nonverbal gesture. And it could mean a couple of things. could be that you have something to say, but you’re preventing yourself from saying it, or it could also mean that you secretly want me and you’re trying to be flirtatious.” You barked a laugh, your eyebrows furrowing together as a faint flush dusted your cheeks. “But I know that it’s because you’re having anxiety; that’s one of the most common reasons. People bite their lips like that. Anxiety, stress, overwhelming emotions.” He leaned back in the driver's seat. “And from the way you’re furrowing your brows at me, which usually means that you’re annoyed in deep conversation or thought I can cross you being flirty with me off my list of options.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead and mark that off several times with a marker.”

Toji shrugged a shoulder as he turned towards the door, opening it. “No skin off my nose; I don't care.” He got out, headed to your side of the car, and opened the door for you.

“Wow, you proved your point; you can read body language. Congratulations.”

“It's all part of the job.”

A job that he was now bringing home. Toji carried your bag for you and led you into the apartment complex. With each step you took, your mind reeled more. What did a pop star tell her brand-new bodyguard’s family? Sorry for imposing on you all; I'll take the couch. Would they be cold? Feeling like you were pitting them out? Or would they be overly fanatic with you, persistently making you feel at home and treating you like a celebrity?

No matter the outcome, one thing was sure: you hated being a burden to others.

Aside from the tests and clinical work, things were easier when you were a nursing student. When you were in school, you didn't have to stress over putting on a face for the cameras, dealing with a stalker, and not worrying about the safety of your loved ones. You would rather take vials of blood from a senile patient rather than have someone destroy your home.

A twinge of pain shot through your lip as you sank your teeth into the raw spot on your lip you had made. Toji watched as your hand shot up, delicate fingers brushing against blood that dribbled to the surface—pulling your hand back to look at the crimson-stained tips of your fingers.

“I told you you were going to bite it so hard it would make it bleed.”

“I know—I just—I hate this.”

Toji’s gaze focused on the numbers blinking as you headed to another floor. “Unfortunately, you don't have many options.” His tone was soft, almost hesitant in a way, one you hadn't been expecting to come from him.

“I just hope your wife isn't too upset.” When the elevator reached the third floor, it dinged before the metal doors slid open. “I'm really sorry for imposing you both.”

“She’s not gonna mind.”

“Oh, and what makes you so sure of that?” You question incredulously, following him out of the elevator down the hall. “I’m a stranger. I would have issues letting a stranger with a stalker into my house.”

The tall man didn't say anything as he unlocked the door to one of the apartments. “Trust me, it ain't going to be a problem. This is something she would have supported.”

Toji held the door open, allowing you to step inside first. The television was playing somewhere inside, leaving you feeling awkward as you stood off to the side. Clearing your throat as Toji took his shoes off, you followed his lead, inching close behind him as he yawned, walking through the entryway.

“Megs? Hey, I'm home.” The pitter-patter of feet against the floor had you looking around Toji as a young girl, maybe sixteen, and a small boy hurrying around a corner. “Hey Tsumiki, sorry I’m late.” he reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a wallet. “I’ll pay ya’ dou—”

“Oh no! You're okay, Mr. Fushiguro. I live a few doors down, and Megumi’s a good kid.” The teenager beamed politely as she ruffled the head of the younger boy. “Plus, my mom made us dinner.” Her eyes drifted behind Toji, and she met yours. She tilted her head slightly to the side before you could see the realization hit her like lightning. “O-Oh—wait! Wait! I-Is that?! Are you?!”

Toji hissed through his teeth, pushing you back behind him. “Tsumiki—don’t.” His words went wholly ignored as she screamed.

You couldn't help but smile; seeing your fans react to you was one of your favorite things. Tsumiki jumped up and down, grabbing hold of the little boy who stared at her in confusion and annoyance, which was nearly comical on a young boy's face. But not a lot of six—and seven—year—old boys came to your concerts.

“You're too loud, Tsumiki.”

“I love you! I love your music so much!!”

Without so much as a word, you stepped out from behind Toji, taking your baseball cap off. “Thank you; I appreciate your support.” You opened your arms, but Tsumiki hesitated, looking up at Toji, who just huffed a sigh before nodding and motioning toward you with one hand.

“Go ahead.”

Tsumiki squealed, throwing herself into you and hugging you as tightly as possible. “Oh my god, it's you!! I can't believe it!” She pulled away dark strands of her hair falling in her face. “What are you doing here? And with Mr. Fushiguro on top of that? Are you two dating?!”

Much to your surprise, you and Toji barked a laugh before glaring at each other. “Hello, no.” Your bodyguard remarked with a sneer as he walked towards Megumi, lifting him. “She ain’t my type.” His words didn't sting; if anything, you felt slightly relieved that he thought the same way you did.

“Ditto.”

“Mr Fushiguro, every guy wants to date her!” The wildly enthusiastic Tsumiki shouted, finally breaking away from her hug with you. “Look at her! She's gorgeous! How could she not be your type?!”

“Well, for starters, I don't date my clients, and secondly—”

“He’s married.” You added, winning a surprised look from the younger boy whose navy eyes mirrored his father’s.

“Since when did you get married?”

Toji ruffled the boy's hair, blatantly ignoring his question before focusing on Tsumiki. “Hey, you can't tell anyone about her being here, okay? It’s for her safety, so don't go blabbing off to your mom or your little girlfriends, okay?” You felt some ease settle over you as Tsumili nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Of course! I won’t tell a soul!” her big doe eyes darted back at you, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. “I know the line of work Megumi’s dad is in, so you’re in good hands.” Her words trailed off as she bit down on her bottom lip, much like you had done throughout the night. “But, uhm—”

It was clear that she wanted to ask you for it, but it was also clear that she wasn't going to ask for it straight out. “Tsumiki, right?” You asked, drawing her attention back to you. “Would you like an autograph? A thank you for keeping my secret?” Her eyes sparked as she nodded her head up and down. “But that doesn't seem fair enough.” you pursed your lips together in faux thought. “How about two backstage passes to my next concert?”

“For real?!”

Toji huffed a sigh, watching to see that mask you had perfected slip on. But it didn't. You were nice but not overly perky and bouncing with energy like you had been at the concert. No, this was just you being genuinely nice to a kid. You were smiling softly, taking in Tsumiki’s reaction, savoring the joy and shock on her face.

It was that look that had Toji in a sort of haze as he walked Tsumiki back to her door. All her excitement was like white noise to him as she hurried inside her apartment, bouncing on her feet as she bid him goodnight. You were something. You couldn't handle being in a car with a stranger you barely knew, but you had no issues giving out backstage concert tickets to a stranger who was a fan.

Toji shook those thoughts out of his mind as he returned to his apartment. He found you standing in the kitchen, looking around. “Do you Need something?” he asked, sitting Megumi down on the counter.

“Oh no, just looking around.”

“Ah, well, I’ll give you a proper tour later. But first,” Megumi groaned as his father's large hand ruffled the top of his head, making his unruly hair even messier. “This is Megumi, my son.”

The little boy puffed his cheeks out, running his hands through his hair as you smiled, introducing yourself. “It's nice to meet you, Megumi. Thanks for letting me stay with you and your family.” Megumi shrugged a shoulder, his cheeks slightly flushed, as he looked up at his dad.

“Yeah, you're welcome.”

“When does your mom get home? I want to thank her properly, too.” A heavy silence fell over the kitchen as Megumi’s features softened his attention, focusing on his father, who rubbed at his neck. “Oh, you haven't told her yet?”

Toji shook his head, lifting Megumi off the counter before placing him down. “Nope, but I'll let her know now; come with me, and I’ll introduce you while I’m at it.” His words were strange, but you followed him to the living room. Toji walked towards a corner and slowly got down on his knees, his eyes focusing on the incense floating up in the air as he reached out, straightening a picture of a beautiful woman with dark hair. “Hey honey, this is our house guest for a while. Do me a favor and don't get all possessive poltergeist on me.” Your bodyguard turned back to you, watching the flush in your cheeks fade as he tilted his head toward the altar. “This is my wife, my late wife.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

Til’ the Day Tag List: (AGE MUST BE IN BIO MDNI)

@justagirl-with-aphone @flowerpot113 @elitesanjisimp @fandomtrash5092 @zoroisminty @imoutofpot @your-mum3000 @lemonmoonmochi @heymickyy @waterfal-ling @thickemadame

[cutesytwt]

Sleepyhead

the plot is: you feel yourself very sleepy all the time, and alastor finds it adorable

tw: none, it's just cute

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You felt cold. Your eyelashes trembled, you frowned and opened your eyes. Bloody red firmament was the first thing you saw, as you were lying on the ground. A bright pentagram crossed the sky, thin clouds flouted across it, and it looked like a piece of meat. There was a glaringly white spot in the left side, which you took for the sun at first, but then you thought it looked more like a planet. A planet with wings. You tried to find the sun or a moon, but in vain. You couldn't tell if it was day or night. A specific pungent smell hit your nose. The smell was extremely bad and you didn't even want to know what had caused it.

You sat up, slowly got to your feet and looked around: a desert with black sand and dead small trees. There was a city ahead. It was densely dotted with skyscrapers and simply high-rise buildings. You headed for it straight away.

You felt utter drowse, it was so strong, you walked some part of the way with your eyes closed. A minute couldn't pass without you yawning. You slowly moved your legs, staggering side to side, getting closer to the unknown city.

You thought it was a dream. A strange one, but very realistic. Last thing you remembered was that you were lying in your bed trying to fall asleep. Usually it never posed you any problems, but that time was different. You barely could lie just in one position, barely could keep your eyes closed, barely felt drowse.

And now you were extremely sleepy. All you wanted to do was lie down on the hot sand and sleep. But nevertheless you continued your way.

Getting closer, you saw a high building on the hill just in the border of the city. You descried a neon sign on the roof of the building: "Hazbin Hotel". So, there was a refuge in such a strange place that looked like hell. You had no money in the pockets of your pyjamas, of course, but you hoped, you would be let to stay for a night in the smallest room under the stairs for free.

The closer you reached the city, the louder became screams and explosions, like a war was waged in the city. In normal situation you would feel fear, but it was a dream, so why should you be afraid?

You stood in front of a street-door with strained-glass windows depicting apples, snakes and eyes. Yawning one more time, you opened the door and entered.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Honeyed soft light of old chandeliers flooded the hotel lobby. A red carpet covered the floor and the birfucated stairs. On the walls with difficult pattern, in which you recognized snakes, hung many painting. It was quiet. Only rustle of your steps on the soft carpet broke the silence. Suddenly you heard a quiet jazz melody somewhere from the left. You turned your head to the side and saw a big black cat at the bar. A cat with wings. And moreover he had a top hat and a red bow tie on his white chest. He was on the place of a barman and poured alcohol in a glass for himself.

Yeah, what a strange dream you had, but the strangest thing was that you couldn't wake up. Usually, when you understood that you were in a dream you immediately woke up. But now you couldn't.

The cat noticed you and looked at you. His stare was vacant, and you understood he was drunk. If a cat could drink, than he could speak too, right? You came up to the bar and asked,

"Excums me, is this a hotel? The Hazbin hotel?"

The cat blinked twice and answered in the affirmative. His voice was deep and low. It reminded black velvet.

"How can I get a room here?"

"Do you want a room?" He frowned. He was looking at you with a blend of suspicon and disbelief.

"Yeah... This is the hotel, isn't it?" You placed your hands at the counter, "Where is reception?"

A slowly saxophone melody hovered between you, making this conversation more surreal.

The cat poured an amber-coloured liquid in his glass, drank it, looked at you again and smirked.

"So, you wanna be redeemed?"

You were irritated at this question. What it did actually mean? You just wanted to sleep, you wanted it so bad, you could kill for having a chance to take to bed.

"I just want a room," You said, gritted your teeth.

"So you don't know?" He said without hiding his smile.

The cat started to dust the counter, and as you didn't answer anything, he continued,

"This is not just a hotel. Living here ain't the main point. The princess of hell founded it on to give all the sinners a chance to get a redemption and go to heaven. So, you're welcome here, but only if you want be better." He glanced at you with a mocking sparkle in his eyes. A smile played at a corner of his mouth. It was clear, that he just repeated the words, he heard million times before, from a host of the hotel maybe, and it seemed funny to him. But not for you. What was the point of all of this? Nevertheless, you needed a room and you wanted to get it by all costs.

"I wouldn't be mind to be better... And to be redeemed," You said seriously. If it could bring you to bed...

"Oh, really?" He raised his red eyebrows, which seemed to be feathers.

Suddenly a high female voice exclaimed from the stairs, "Vaggie, I tell you, someone has come! I saw them in the window!"

You turned to the voice and saw two young women. They noticed you too and opened their eyes in surprise. One of them, a tall, ruddy-cheecked blonde in red jacket and black trousers, smiled widely, showing her white sharp fangs. The other one, with grey skin and white long hair, frowned and took out a spear from somewhere.

They two quickly went down to you, but the blonde was much faster, and as she appeared towards you, she took your hands,

"Welcome!!! I'm Charlie, the founder of this hotel! I'm so glad you've come here!" She was so happy, you wouldn't been surprised, if she'd exploded with sparkles and spangles.

"I'm (Y/n)."

"What a beautiful name! Fits you so well!"

The other girl came up to you, still holding the spear, but not going to attack, "Charlie, we don't even know why they had came here. Maybe they've lost."

"I haven't actually lost. I'm here to redeem." You said loudly. You heard Charlie, she said she was the founder of this place, so it depended on her, whether would you stay here for a night. And also you remembered what that cat told you. The princess of hell founded it on. So you decided to be polite with this young woman. You didn't want to have an enemy in the face of the princess of hell even in your dream.

After your words were said the smile on the Charlie's face grew even bigger, her eyes filled with tears, and she pressed you to her chest in a tight embrace.

"I'm so so so so so so so glaaaaaad!"

"I would be glad too," You barely moaned in her firm hug, "but I'm afraid you'll rather strangle me."

"Uh, sorry!" She let you go straight away.

Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "It's not like... Well, I mean, it's not that this place is very unpopular or avoided, but it's like not everyday somebody comes here..." Her shoulders slumped and you saw sadness in her eyes. Vaggie gently put her hand on Charlie's shoulder with a soft smile, "Charlie..."

The young woman looked at her and a wide smile shone on her face again.

"Anyway," She said to you, "Welcome to hell! And to Hazbin Hotel! So you can be welcomed lately in heaven!" She almost sang the last word.

Hell? So you understood all rightly. It was hell. A dream about a hotel in hell. Well, why not? Maybe when you'd wake up you should write a book about it?

"Hell?" You asked.

"Yes! You're a new one here, I believe?"

You unsurely nodded. Somehow you started to doubt that it was only a dream. You felt cold. After all it was too real. You could swear you had never heard that jazz melody from the radio, you smelled Charlie's apple perfume, you felt her embrace, and you were sleepy like you were kissed by Mortheus himself. But people don't feel themselves sleepy in their dreams, do they?

But to be in hell you must to be dead. Were you dead?

"Am I dead?" You felt cold inside of you, but it didn't help you to overcome another yawn.

Charlie and Vaggie looked at you with sympathy.

"Yeeaaahhh, you are, I'm very sorry," Said Charlie with an apologetic smile.

You tried to remember, what had happened before you opened your eyes and saw the red sky.

You spent your whole day in your bed, daydreaming, reading books and sleeping. Just like always. You spent your whole life avoiding reality. Fantasies, fictions, daydreams were the only refuge from the horrors of the world you lived in.

"I thought I was too young to die during the sleep..." You pronounced.

Charlie covered her mouth with her palm, "Oh! This must be very... Sudden for you."

"Look at this from the other side. You didn't suffer," Said Vaggie.

You yawned very widely. Yes, you didn't suffer when you died, but now you were probably cursed to never have enough of sleep.

"May I get a room?" You were so tired. What's the matter thinking about your death. It was more important to find a bed. You could think about your death and curse later.

Charlie glanced at you.

"Oh, damn, yes, sure! It's very late already, and of course you need a room!"

"Thank you," You smiled. Getting a bed had never been so difficult.

Charlie took a key from the cell near the empty one, and you three, Charlie, Vaggie and you, headed for the stairs. You glanced back to look at the barcat again. He raised his glass, looking at you, like he was drinking to you. You turned away and asked Charlie about him.

Charlie stopped and exclaimed, "Oh, shit, I absolutely forgot about it! We need to make a tour around the hotel!"

"Charlie," Said Vaggie, "We can do it tomorrow. I'm afraid, our new guest is about to fall asleep in any moment."

"You right." You took the key out from Charlie's hand and turned away.

"What are you doing?" Exclaimed Charlie.

Still going forward you turned your head to Charlie and said, "I'm very grateful for both of you, really," You stopped, "but now I just want to be alone" To sleep, you thought, "to accept the fact I'm dead now," You said. "It's not hard to find a right room, when I know the floor and the number, so don't worry, I can handle it. Good night, girls!" You waved your hand and disappeared in shadowed corridor.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You slowly walked forward along the corridor. It seemed endless, though you turned time after time to the left or right. Art Deco lamps glowed dimly, filling the place with an amber light. Sometimes golden candlesticks hung on the walls instead of lamps. There were candles on them; they burned, but wax didn't drip from them. The walls were crimson, and so was the carpet. Although the corridor and the entire hotel were buried in warm colours, goosebumps ran down your skin. Especially in this quiet and dark corridor. It seemed that this place was uninhabited. But judging by the number of empty cells for keys at the reception, at least six or seven people lived here. “Maybe they just opened recently?” You thought yawning again.

You turned to the left again and went up one floor. Here, on one of the upper floors, your room was supposed to be.

Suddenly you heard a melody. You stopped and listened. A piano sounded off quietly and melancholy somewhere in the distance. Music led you forward. You walked past the room with your number. The melody became louder, and now you heard singing. A male voice sang some old song in French. You stopped for a second and then went further.

The lights flickered, and you heard something, what sounded like a crackling radio. You turned to the right and realized, that the melody was coming from the far door on the right. You stopped in front of this door. The sound wasn't clear, like someone was listening to an old radio or gramophone. You leaned your back against the door and began to listen. It was a beautiful and very old song. The melody lulled you. The man’s voice was so beautiful and bewitching, that you forgot all your worries, and drowsiness enveloped you again. But now the feeling of sleep did not press on you, did not suffocate you, sleep gently hugged you by the shoulders and let you rest your tired head on its chest. You felt cosiness and comfort. What a beautiful song... What a beautiful voice... The refrain began, and the voice became louder. You closed your eyes and slowly sank onto the carpet.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor took his hands away from the piano and turned his head to the door. Someone had been standing behind it for several minutes already. How dare they? He immediately felt their presence but did nothing, hoping they'd leave. But no.

Alastor stood up, took a sip of water to moisten the throat after the long singing, and headed for the door. The was silence. He expected he would hear the steps running away, because now it was obviously, that he knew they were there and they'd disturbed him. So it was better for them to make off. But there was silence.

Alastor opened the door and saw nothing. Something fell at his feet. He looked down and saw the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

A young lady lay at his feet. Her skin was velvet black as night sky and starred. Milliards of tiny stars shone on her arms, hands, and neck. Her hair was glaringly white and fluffy as a cloud. The hair shone with soft moon-like light in the candlelit room. She was wearing a silver pajamas with a pattern of little moons. The night herself, he was captivated with her.

Alastor knelt down in front of you and gently put hair from your face. It shimmered with tiny stars just like all of your body. Your face was calm, you slept well. Your chest slowly upped and downed with every breath.

Alastor studied you just with his eyes. How did you end up here? You didn't look like a demon — too beautiful, but you weren't an angel either — too nocturnal.

Alastor noticed that you had something in your hand. He carefully unclenched your fingers and saw a key. So, a new guest? And living so close to him?

Alastor smirked to his thoughts.

"There's no way you'll sleep on the floor, my dear," He wispered.

He took you in his arms and left the room.

You pressed your head to his shoulder and wispered something. You were light as a feather. Alastor headed for the room with the number that was on the key in your hand. You yawned in sleep, and wispered something again, that made Alastor softly chuckle.

He made the door of your room opened and he entered. Alastor put you to bed and wanted to straightened up, but your hands embraced his neck. He leaned on his hands and hung over you so as not to fall.

On your eyelids he saw a big amount of stars and violet fog, like a little universe slowly whirled on your eyes.

Your hands slipped from his neck, but Alastor stayed still. Then he sat next to you. His hand ran through your hair.

"Suppose I am the guard of your dreams now?" Said Alastor to himself.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You woke up, yawning widely and stretching yourself. You thought, that you had never had such a good sleep. But then you opened your eyes and found yourself in an unfamiliar place. It was a bedroom, quite big and beautiful bedroom in violet, blue and silver colours. You looked at your hands: black and starred, just like yesterday. So you still was in hell, still dead. Or was it better to say, already?

You yawned again and got out of your bed. In the bathroom you saw new you. "Night" was your first thought. Maybe spending your whole life in sleep was a sin, because you once heard, that despondency, that led you to daydreams, was a deadly sin... And moreover you died in the middle of the night during your sleep. Could it be the reason why you looked like a daughter of Nyx?

In a wardrobe you found a big amount of clothes that suited you just perfect. Not only in your size, but it also suited to your appearance. There were a grey pinstriped suit, long skirts, warm sweaters, shirts. All was in dark blue, silver or black colours. You found a lot of different ties and bow ties, kerchieves, gloves. Somebody did a good job with your wardrobe. You changed clothes and only now noticed the clock above the bed. It was a midday already. You hastened to leave your room.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Walking down the main stairs you heard Charlie's voice.

"Here you are, (Y/n)! Good morning! or good afternoon already... Nevermind!" She waved her hand, "You can go to the dinning room and have breakfast. I asked Alastor to cook another helping. He was surprised that we have a new guest hahaha! And after you finishing your meal, go back here, we're going to do some exercises," Charlie looked to the side, where several demons were sitting, "and we will do it together!"

Last words she said with a forced smile, almost growling. Apparently, someone didn’t want to do these exercises together. You saw yesterday's cat among them.

After finishing breakfast (oh, how delicious it was) you went to the living room, where all the residents had already gathered.

You were introduced to the demons in front of you. Niffty was a maid, she gave you a cute smile, but you noticed a sharp big knife in her hand. Nobody seemed to care about it, so didn't you.

Angel Dust, the spider, winked at you with a smile. He was the first resident of this hotel.

Husk, the cat demon, he was a barman. He nodded you, when Charlie said his name to you.

And Sir Pentious, another resident. He smiled to you, and his smile seemed the most warm and not assumed.

"And where is Alastor?" Said Charlie looking around, "Oh, asked him to come and join us."

You saw a big shadow behind her. It took a shape of a tall man with a cane, and he appeared.

"Alastor," You guessed. This name suited him, it had something devilish in its sound, and it sorted well with his appearance. Especially with his ear-to-ear smile with big sharp yellow teeth. A thought of being bitten by him fleeted your mind, but you shook your head.

"Alalstor, this is our new guest, (Y/n)!" Said Charlie with a big smile, pointing with her two hands at you.

Alalstor came up to you and gave you a hand, "It's a pleasure to be meeting you, dear!"

You shook hands.

His voice seemed familiar to you, but you couldn't understand why. He spoke with transatlantic accent and with radio sound. It was strange, but you liked how it sounded.

"Well, let's begin our exercises. All" Said Charlie, growling on the last word again. Angel Dust rolled up his eyes.

You sat on a couch near Alastor. In front of you on other couch sat Angel and Husk. Vaggie stood near Charlie, who was explaining the rules of to-redeem-game. Sir Pentious sat on the floor near Husk, and Niffty, the maid, sat on the arm of the couch near Alastor.

At first you tried to listen to Charlie, to all her explanations why it was so important to be honest, and how the following exercise would teach you to trust each other and to be frank. But somehow you couldn't keep your eyes opened anymore and you hadn't noticed how you fallen asleep.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Angel poked Husk with his elbow and said, "Are my eyes deceiving me?"

Husk had been watching in the same direction for four minutes already and still couldn't believe in what he saw.

"What d'ya think? How long does she have left?"

"No more than thirty seconds, when she wakes," Husk replied phlegmatically.

"What? What are you looking at?" Asked Charlie throwing her hands. These two hadn't listened to her for several minutes and just stared at one point.

At the same time Angel and Husk pointed out the direction, where you were sitting. Charlie turned back and saw Alastor and you, putting your head on his shoulder. You were sleeping.

Everybody was staring in confusion at you and Alastor. Nobody had noticed, when you fell asleep and leaned against Alastor. He didn't understand at first what was that. Just something restet against his shoulder. And when he glanced down right, he saw your crown.

And he didn't dare move.

Charlie opened her mouth to say something, but Alastor interrupted her, "Shh... Don't you see, our new guest is resting?"

Nobody could understand what was hidden behind his sly smile and this half closed eyes.

You lifted your head a little to make yourself more comfortable, and then you tried to bury your face in his arm but slipped off.

You opened your eyes and saw wide smiling face with red glowing eyes leaning over you. Alastor looked down at you. The light of a chandelier behind his head looked like a halo. It was a strange combination with his antlers and deer ears. His red eyes shone and his yellow teeth seemed did the same.

Suddenly you understood why he was looking down on you, and why you saw ceiling behind him. You were lying on his knees.

You quickly sat up, almost hit his head, and began to apologize.

"Hahaha" Alastor laughed, "don't worry, my dear, I know a great method to deal with sleepiness." He stood up and said without looking back at you, "Follow me."

Only now you noticed that all the residents were staring at you, someone with their eyes wide opened, someone with a smirk. You apologized and followed Alastor.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

While Alastor was making coffee for you, you were watching him, sitting at a table, resting your head on your arm. This man was extremely tall, his movements were elegant but a little bit too sharp. The kitchen filled with coffee aroma.

You were following his movements, when he said, "It's oddly, dear, that fourteen hours of sleep were not enough for you."

"How do you know, how long I slept?"

He chuckled, "I know not only when you fell asleep, my dear, but also when you ended up in bed."

He turned to you with a mug of hot coffee in his hand. He came up to you and put the mug on the table. There was an inscription: "Sleepaholic."

Yeah, how funny.

You looked up at Alastor. He was smiling as always. His voice, these words he said, the fact you didn't remember how you got to your bed...

"Did I..? Did I yesterday..?" You began hesitatingly. You didn't want to say it aloud, hoping that Alastor would finish your sentence. But he was silent. He glanced at you, obviously enjoying with your confusion.

"Did I fall asleep at your door yesterday?" You said very quickly.

"You did," He answered with a satisfied smile and leaned closer to you, "Drink it, dear, I don't need another body of a somnabulist at my threshold."

You quickly drank the strongest coffee you'd ever had, and you two returned to the living-room

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

As you were sitting on the couch near Alastor, and Charlie was leading the exercises, you felt boredom suddenly, and your eyes began to close. You opened them wider and tried to focus on what Charlie was saying, but you could no longer understand anything. You covered your eyes and remembered the yesterday's evening. That song played in your head again. It was so beautiful, so charming... And it was sang by the man, who was sitting next to you right now.

You opened your eyes and looked at Alastor with a tired gaze. Angel answered something to Charlie, but you didn’t listen. You idly and yet with curiosity looked over Alastor from head to toe. Despite his sinister and dark spirit, that you felt in him, you couldn't deny that you were attracted to him. His charm was beguiling, it's true.

You covered your eyes again and turned away. You didn't notice how Alastor quietly moved closer to you.

"I think, coffee doesn't work on me," You mumbled.

"Hmm?" Alastor leaned closer to hear what you said, but you didn't repeat your words.

Your eyes closed again and you saw him, making coffee for you. You felt that bitter smell again. Then you saw his face, the moment when you woke up on his knees. The vision disappeared and you saw Alastor carrying you into your room in his arms. The piano sounded in your head again and you felt rocking, as if you were a baby in your mother's arms, being sung to in a lullaby. You felt something in right side of you and leaned against it. A soft fabric touched your face, you felt a bitter-salty scent mixed with fur and forest smell. You felt warmth.

In your dream you lay on bed and were kept in warmth in someone's arms. You breathed in the same smell. Somebody patted your head and you felt someone's breath on your crown. An old song was playing on a radio; it drowned in static.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Charlie stopped talking and looked in your direction. So did everybody.

You were sleeping on Alastor's shoulder again, cuddling very close up to him and embracing his forearm. He was looking at you with the softest gaze everyone had ever seen on him. He patted your head and said not taking his eyes off you, "Our guest is indeed a sleepyhead."

He looked up at everyone, "Don't you dare to disturb her, for I will make everyone of you fall into eternal sleep," His eyes turned into radio dials, his voice became lower and more static, "unable to wake up from the nightmare I cause."

You cuddled closer to Alastor and smiled in sleep. He backed to his normal form again. A quiet old melody played from his staff.

Charlie broke the silence, "Uhh, okay..." She said with a forced smile.

Alastor glanced at her, and then embraced you, and you both sank into the shadow.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

@noraunor

[cutesytwt]

Miss wolf teaser.

Pairing: Toji fushiguro x hybrid reader (human with ears and a tail)

Summary: It was a mission, as simple as killing the client and dipping, that was all it was supposed to be but the pain in her eyes, drew him in and now he was the proud owner of a hybrid.

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

-Abuse.

- Murderer.

-Smut.

-Owner to lover.

-protective toji.

If you want to be tagged comment or Reblog and I'll tag ya.

[cutesytwt]

Vox, Valentino, and Angel with Moth! Reader

Vox

You were a sunset moth, wings black on the outside with gorgeous rays of rainbows on the inside

Initially he wasn’t the biggest fan of having a constant reminder of Valentino as his right hand assistant

You were pretty calm, and honestly very laid-back with your emotions

You did what you were told and he liked that about you

Look- living in hell was hard and you needed a job, and you planned on keeping it

I like to think that moth demons usually keep their wings concealed in a similar way that Val does

So whether you use it as a coat, cape, skirt, dress? Vox doesn’t think too much of it at first

He was in a relationship with Valentino and even he hadn’t seen them all too much

Though little did he know that was the key to your emotions

One time, you were walking alongside Vox, updating him on his schedule and marking off any meetings he wished to cancel 

But this dumb bitch kept interrupting you

It wasn’t uncommon for paparazzi to crowd at Vox- he was an Overlord, it’s to be expected

But this girl was being a real bitch

So you were quick to whip around, wings flaring and antenna unfurling as you seethed to the woman, nearly clawing her face off as she backed away

Then as she finally left, your wings drooped, but kept out, hanging behind you like a cape as you turned back to Vox, and read off the rest of his schedule 

However, the TV headed Overlord wasn’t paying much attention, instead he was much more infatuated with the colorful wings perched on your back

They caught attention, his attention

You were useful, and he needed to take advantage of that

Ever since then Vox brought you around everywhere, which brought even more attention to you

Safe to say, you no longer reminded him of Valentino

Instead, you were the pretty little moth that helped bring more attention to his business

“I still don’t understand why you’re using me as a model,” you muttered, quirking an eyebrow as Vox held and observed your wings, handling them very delicately despite his excitement. “I mean- can’t you use Valentino?”

Vox hummed in reply, bringing his hands away to quickly copy down more commands into his computers, modeling out a robot that took the shape of a moth, a spy tool

“Because you’re wings are better than Val’s,” he quipped, coming back over and gently pressing down onto the base of your wings, the sensitive area just behind your shoulder blade. “And he wouldn’t let me.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into his feeling touch with a grumble.

“Whatever.”

Valentino

Moth demons aren’t by any means completely rare, and Valentino knew that

It was just that most of them were…bland, lacking in color and any kind of beauty that would bring people to his studio

So he paid them no mind

But you were different

You were a rosy maple moth, colored bright pinks and yellows and attracting attention wherever you went

Valentino was out in a luxury restaurant with Vox and Velvette, discussing business

And then you came by, prancing in your little uniform as you brought them complimentary drinks since they were Overlords, carefully crafted alcohol each handed to him by one of your three free hands

To say Valentino was interested was an understatement

He purposely took a long time to order just so you could stay by for longer

You were quick and efficient, getting all of their orders correct on the first try, 

When you came back you showed off your arm strength, each one holding up their plates high and setting them down with utmost caution before the three of them

Your colors were so bright, so eye-catching

How could Valentino not get you fired just so he could hire you as one of his own?

You were quite easy to catch, trapped up in his little web where you now worked for him

Once you did, he made sure you worked in the most populated bar he owned

You still had no idea just how much Valentino manipulated you, but you aren’t to blame for that

He babied you incredibly, broke you down with strung up hands and then built you back up just to make you trust him even more

He struck your deepest insecurities, manipulating you by taking random girls and boys and making you stand nearby as those cruel demons mocked you

And Valentino would then shoo them away, and baby you

You were never in any films as one of the main characters, (the ones who have sex)

But you were always teased as such, and were actually pasted across many posters of said films

You were photogenic, and Valentino took advantage of this

“‘Greetings sir, welcome to the….the…’ shit,” you sighed as you forgot your lines, bringing out your script from the folds of your wings to glance at it. “Sir I don’t think I’m gonna remember this.”

You looked to Valentino, shifting from where you stood, giving the werewolf actor above you a side glance. He drooled like a madman, some of it even dripping down onto your antenna, making you flinch back.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he called from his director's chair, right leg crossed over his left as he looked at you, pink smoke billowing around him as he gave a toothy smile. “Just improv it.”

You shifted, slightly unsure of just how good you’d be able to ‘improv’ your lines. 

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he insisted, standing up and slowly striding over to you, resting one of his hands on your shoulder as you followed him with your gaze. “No one’s watching the dialogue, right? They just want to see this.”

He ran one of his free hands down the shape of your wings, making you shudder lightly, antenna unfurling and twitching high up into the air.

“So just say whatever, okay?”

You nodded slowly, blushing hardly as he held your waist and shoulders with his much larger hands, leaning down and pecking a gentle kiss on your cheek before returning to his chair.

“And….action,”

Angel Dust

Out of the three, he probably took the longest to trust you

Not only did you work for Valentino, but you also happened to be the same species of demon

You were an atlas moth, with colors reminiscent of cinnamon

And you were a camera man/woman

So you and Angel often were in the same room during shoots

He didn’t resent you- it just took him a while to convince him that you weren’t gonna hurt him

In-between takes you would skitter forward and quickly fix up his hair and makeup, 

Unlike a lot of the other workers, your touch was gentle and caring, gently running your clawed through his hair, and dabbing a brush across his cheekbones to fix up the color

Slowly but surely, you began to hang out outside of work

One time- you spotted him in a bar with Cherri (who wasn’t the fondest of you)

You came over, offering to buy drinks

At first, Angel was very cautious, watching how you handled their drinks, 

Cherri carried this too

Then- that one dreadful night, where Valentino was in the same bar

Angel had rushed forward to protect Niffty, where the moth Overlord looked down at Angel with a sickly sadism

But before Valentino could continue his taunting- and getting Angel to snap- you spoke up from the crowd

“Valentino,” you began, catching your boss’ attention. “Leave him alone, he’s off the clock so just drop it

For a long moment, Angel looked at you like you were fucking insane- but you stood your ground

And after a long moment, Valentino sighed- grumbling to himself before finally backing off.

Angel paused for a long moment, before you came over to Angel, taking one of his free hands and helping him to his feet.

“Are you okay?”you asked, voice soft and sweet as you looked to him in concern

Angel took a moment too long to respond, instead looking at you in a mixture of confusion and adoration

“I…I…”

“Val’s such an asshole, come on, let’s get back to your friends,” you offered, holding out a hand to him, and yet you didn’t take it by force.

You were lucky Angel didn’t completely malfunction that day

After that one moment, you became Angel’s one and only work friend

He loved Husk, Cherri, and Charlie- but you were different

You knew what it was like

After you two started hanging out more, he began to notice the little things about you

How you would chirp or squeak whenever he ran his hands along the bridge or base of your wings- apparently it felt good because it was hard to scratch and care for back there

Oh- and your antenna, you had special little brushes for them, and Angel loved them to bits- touching them, brushing, petting- all of the above

You were his work friend- his only one

“Ugh-” Angel groaned as he stumbled into your room, plopping down onto your fluffy and thick blankets, rubbing some of his makeup onto your pillows as you followed him inside.

“Just relax Angie,” you eased, crawling onto the bed beside him, fours hands planted on either side as you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his back. “He’s not here.”

Angel whined in reply, to which you picked up Angel by the waist, sitting him upright before using your low set of hands to gently massage the sore areas along his back and sides

Angel let out a low groan, easing into your touch to which you look to him in mild amusement.

“Thanks, dollface, really,” he managed to get out, smiling and reaching back to hold your face affectionately. “This feels amazing.”

“Just relax, Angie, and let go.”

[cutesytwt]

Hi! I wanted to ask if you could do a fic/headcanon about a jinx like reader (the one from arcane) like the reader has her personality and her backstory they can be any gander you want. For characters you can go wild but I would like if Alastor, Lucifer and Vox were there. Bonus points if the reader is a teen that is alive and nobody knows how they got here but don't want to send them back because they are frankly terrified for them. Sorry it's so long. Make sure to take breaks and keep hydrated.

JINX!

Platonic! Alastor, Lucifer (Separate hc)+ Jinx like! Reader

MASTERLIST >

warnings. i changed it up a bit, readers gender isnt mentioned, reader is a teen.

(Not proofread, sorry I don’t write 4 vox😭)

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

- Alastor finds you interesting! I mean your talking to yourself, yea its normal, but the way you act when you do so? He wonders what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours!

- Alastor and you would definitely get along he’s also introduced you to Rosie and she absolutely adores you! And when you met Nifty to, you to hit it off and become great friends.

- When Alastor sees you making your bombs and weapons he finds it interesting you can just make any junk into anything.

- After hearing what your past was like as a child and how you got in hell from one of Charlie’s exercises he pity’s you, he couldn’t imagine being abandoned by his mother as a child so he started to treat you like his own, he literally becomes like Silco.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

- Lucifer adores you and when I say adores you I mean it, he treats you like your his own daughter, but this lead to a lot of fights between him and Alastor, but you don’t mind you find it quite funny.

- Lucifer loves that you make stuff he makes stuff to! He definitely has made a duck that looks like you, you you definitely have a plush ur that looks like him!

- After hearing the stuff that’s happened to you and what you’ve had to go through as a child it literally makes him cry, hes emotional ok. And while hes crying you just look at him and laugh you ass off.

- But overall you him and Charlie, and i guess Alastor are one big happy family.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

[cutesytwt]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 + 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

characters: vox, val, alastor, lucifer warnings: implied smut in some; 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink (+ papi for val), toxic relationships, pet/master dynamic (for alastor), reader is a bit of a brat with vox, implied drugging the night before (val), praise + pet names, fem!reader, reader is carried in val’s words: 2.7k

₊˚⊹ 𝐯𝐨𝐱 ⊹˚₊

You love mornings with your Daddy—truly, you do; love waking up next to him, slow and soft as his fingertips outline your features; love eating breakfast with him, feet kicking back and forth on one of the barstools as he prepares something simple for the two of you, know that he had to pull teeth to get the mornings off of work so he could spend them with you, getting you ready for the day and seeing you off—but there is one part, right at the very end, that you absolutely despise. 

Like everything with Vox, dental hygiene is a meticulous procedure, a rigorous routine with a set of immutable steps to be followed in the exact order Vox has laid them out in—carved into concrete, set in stone.

And, like everything else with Vox, no one knows how to perform them correctly except for him.

Still, it isn’t like you ever make it easy for him.

What else could he expect from his little troublemaker, really?

“Open up.” 

A thumb and a forefinger clamp down on the hinges of your jaw, palm wreathed around your chin, and squeeze, popping your mouth open with practiced efficiency.

“Daddy,” the word comes out as a stringy whine, slightly garbled, face crumpling in petulance. “Dun wanna.” 

Jerking a little in his grasp, you try to pull away from the advancing toothbrush slathered with translucent teal gel, and Vox clicks his tongue. 

“And I don’t care,” he says simply, fingers flexing in warning. “Good little girls need to brush their teeth—especially if they’ve eaten two bowls of sugary cereal for breakfast.” 

“But—”

Vox pulls back, face flattened into something serious. “Do you want cavities eating holes in your teeth?” 

“No—”

“Didn’t think so. Now hold still and let Daddy do this for you, yeah?” 

A groan vibrates on the back of your tongue, but your body goes pliant in his grasp, chin leaning into his pillowy palm.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs to himself, a small smug smile on his face.

Warmth blossoms in your chest, swells your lungs and stretches your ribs as you droop a little more beneath his praise and he chuckles, a fond little melody playing on his tongue, grip tightening infinitesimally. 

And he’s so precise with it all, maneuvers painstakingly perfect as he tilts your head one way, then the other, sure to scrub each tooth thoroughly, bristles scouring in little circular motions as he cleanses.

“Aaaah,” he hums, mimicking the action as he pries his mouth open wider, another praise falling from his lips as you instantly obey, allowing him to reach the molars at the very back of your mouth—brushing on top, on either side, behind, then on top again. 

“Tongue out.” 

Another whine sticks in your throat, brows pushing together and crinkling your forehead, open mouth downturned in a frown with a slight shake of your head, struggling against his hold.

“Come, now,” Vox chastises, but his voice is hard, fortified with a subtle threat. “You were doing so well for me—don’t start acting up, Daddy’s almost done.” 

His gaze holds yours steadily, a single eyebrow raising in question—are you really going to test me?—and you cave, again.

Reluctantly, your tongue unfurls from your mouth, face still scrunched in irritation as he scrapes the bristles across the muscle, working up a healthy lather, refusing to cease until that telltale disgruntled whine claws at your throat, evoking another one of those patronizing little chuckles.

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying as he tips a glass to your lips, a palm cupped protectively beneath your chin. “Rinse.” 

And, Christ, he loves how fucking obedient you are, even as the urge to misbehave bubbles behind your ribs, lips set in a deep pout as you follow his instructions, swishing a mouthful of water between your cheeks, waiting perfect and patient for his next order. 

“Spit.”

Oh, so compliant, so disciplined you are as you instantly spew blue liquid down the drain, a fierce sense of pride, of ownership, igniting deep within his soul, blazing bright and hot and strong, reflected in the amplified glowing of his eyes.

Your features are still scrunched up in a cute little pout, glaring at him through your lashes, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” A thumb runs along your forehead, attempting to iron out the crease between your brows in a gentle caress.

“It was awful.” 

“Fucking brat.” 

And he just can’t help but laugh out the word, the sting the insult should bring instantly negated by the tender affection it’s smothered in, turned soft and melty on his tongue.

No, you never make such endeavours painless for him, but you do always make them interesting, and for that, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

₊˚⊹ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨 ⊹˚₊

It’s late in the afternoon when Val decides it’s time to get up, deep crimson light spilling through the narrow gaps in his thick curtains and painting thin, long strokes across the shag carpet.

He doesn’t bother formally waking you as two of his hands scoop you from the nest of silk and cradle you to his body, chuckling out a coo as you automatically snuggle into his chest, legs latching around his waist. 

The haze of sleep still hangs heavy in your skull, a soft protest grumbled into his skin as he carries you somewhere, lids staying firmly glued shut, body beginning to melt into his again as the bliss of unconsciousness entices you with promises of whimsical dreams and relief from your aching muscles. 

Cold marble stings your bare thighs suddenly, forcing a small jolt through your form, a soft hiss exhaled from between your teeth.

“I know, I know, it’s cold,” Val pacifies, his voice a pleasant fog curling around your cheeks as he leans around you, tinkering with something.  

“Papi,” you whimper, reaching blindly for him, lethargic head falling forward, forehead pressed tightly to his sternum.

“Mmm, I’m here,” he murmurs distractedly, two of his hands still wrapped firmly around your hips as the other set busy themselves with uncapping a tube of toothpaste.

“Wanna go back to bed,” you slur out in a whine, nose nuzzling into his chest, fruitlessly looking for a place to rest your head, dense drowsiness curling the edges of your mind.

“But it’s time to get up, princesa,” he chides gently, a finger tracing the curve of your cheek. “You’ve been asleep for fourteen hours.” 

“M’still tired.” 

A hum of contemplation vibrates at the back of his tongue as a hand twines around your jaw, examining your face this way, then that, before tilting your chin up.

“Maybe I gave you a little too much last night,” he muses to himself through a dark snicker. “It’s kinda cute that you’re still this fucked up, though. Can’t even open your eyes for me, can you?” 

And you try, really, you do, attempting to heft your leaden lids, features screwing up cutely with the immense effort, and Val coos again, as if your intoxication is so pathetically precious—poor little girl can barely handle her Daddy’s drugs! How sweet.

“Well, that’s okay,” he purrs, first pair of hands slipping further beneath his dress shirt—a makeshift nightgown, his favourite nightgown on you—and tugging you closer to the counter’s edge. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything; Papi will do it for you.” 

A sound of indignation sticks in your throat as you finally pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh light of the bathroom, bleary gaze fixed on the sparkly pink toothbrush in one of his hands, face rumpling into a pout. 

Your lips press into a tight, firm line, sealing your mouth against the rapidly advancing utensil as your eyes slip shut again, weighted with narcotic-laced exhaustion, head shaking in messy little motions.

“C’mon, be co-operative,” the points of his nails dig into your skin, hard enough to leave superficial indents—a warning. “Don’t upset Daddy this early in the day, baby.” 

Wrenching your eyes open again, your nose twitches with a sniffle, chin beginning to quiver.

“But—But—Do I have to?”

“Yes, you have to,” he says, but his voice trembles with the effort to stay calm, to stay pleasant. “Your mouth is very dirty from last night, and it needs to be cleaned.”

A thick torrent of tears rush to cloud your vision, sudden and stinging, a hiccup stuttering your chest. The hand curved around your jaw tightens, yanking your face toward his own, foreheads knocking together.

“Now, open, before I make you open.”

Your jaw falls slack, a slave to his orders, unable to disobey a direct demand from its owner, and Val purrs, something wicked unravelling on his face, smile stretched sharp and sleazy from edge to edge, the glow in his eyes flaring with your instant compliance.

“Good girl.”

₊˚⊹ 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 ⊹˚₊

Alastor, you’ve come to learn, has a plethora of odd regimes; stringently scheduled customs that are non-negotiable, that extend to you, including brushing your teeth. 

It’s become routine, now—habitual, as most things with Alastor are—and your days no longer feel right without it; weird, off, incomplete. 

Because it’s become something of a comfort; something so simple, yet so intimate, something calming and rewarding, something to look forward to—a moment shared between the two of you, twice a day, once at the beginning, and once at the end. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you try tell him, the first time he insists on doing it, trying desperately to look over your shoulder as he ushers you into his ensuite.

“Nonsense!” he waves a hand in dismissal. “It isn’t a problem at all. Now, sit.” 

“Alastor—”

“Sit.” 

With a tiny frown, you perch gingerly on the edge of the bathtub, fingers curling around the rim.

“I’m serious,” you murmur, teeth nibbling superficially at the skin of your lip, wary eyes watching as he flits with practiced ease around the bathroom, a twinge of confusion settling in your chest, something akin to shame sitting thick and bitter on the back of your tongue. “I can do it myself…” 

“I know you can,” he replies simply, focused on depositing a strip of white toothpaste on your toothbrush. 

“Then…” you blink up at him, watching him advance with wide eyes, shoulders shrinking as he blankets you in his shadow. “Why are you doing it for me?” 

Irritation twitches at the edges of his grin, Alastor exhaling a controlled sigh.

“Because,” he begins, keeping his voice light, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb. “A good Master takes proper care of his pet.” 

His grip strengthens, tilting your face up further, his form looming over your own as you sit, vulnerable and exposed, beneath his touch. Crimson eyes glow as they scour your face, his back bent at an uncomfortable angle as he practically curls around you, the scent of earth and cedar tinged with copper wafting across your face with his calm, even breaths. 

“Besides,” he continues, voice dropped an octave lower, his nose nearly nudging yours. “I couldn’t possibly trust you to do it adequately.” 

A cruel little chuckle plays on his tongue, as if the mere thought itself is preposterous, the sound stinging as it seeps into your cheeks, hot and full of spikes. 

“Now, open.” 

Instantly, your mouth falls agape, and Alastor’s smile stretches infinitesimally wider, a sharp glint flaring in his eyes.

“A good owner maintains their pet’s hygiene,” he explains as he works, gaze fixed intently on his actions, cleansing with a meticulous sort of vigilance. “Bathes them, grooms them, dresses them—performs all of the basic necessities a pet needs to appear presentable.”

His hand shifts slightly, angling your head to the side, and you follow easily, malleable in his grasp, his smile shimmering. 

“And I pride myself on taking very good care the things that belong to me.”

And, really, he does. Because Alastor doesn’t just brush your teeth with rigorous care, conscientiously certain to cleanse every dip and gap; he flosses them, too, with gentle hands and painstaking precision, then ensures you’ve rinsed with germ-killing, enamel-strengthening mouthwash for exactly forty-five seconds, counting uniformly and observing with large, unblinking eyes as you adhere to his every instruction, cheeks bulging with burning liquid, eyes squinting from the intensity, but never daring to blink, to glance away, to stop at all. 

“Look at you,” he purrs after you’ve spit down the drain, gazing back up at him with a sort of desperate devotion—demented, devious, damned to his hell—syrupy condescension dripping from his teeth. “So well behaved for me, aren’t you?”  

A palm cups your jaw, his thumb running across your cheek in rhythmic strokes, the tip of his claw caressing your skin with just enough pressure to leave behind shallow scratches. 

“What, hoping Master will give you a treat for being so obedient?” 

“No, Sir,” you whimper out, voice gone dreamy as you nuzzle into his hand. “You taking such good care of me is more than enough.” 

Something sinister oozes into his face, something that contorts his smile and corrodes his eyes, leaving behind nothing but raw hunger, like he’s about to devour you whole, pops of static fizzing thickly in his voice. 

“That’s my good girl.” 

₊˚⊹ 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 ⊹˚₊

Everything hurts, muscles stiff and aching and full of sand, your motions clumsy and cumbersome as you attempt to brush your teeth, joints creaking with every slight shift.

Fatigue blurs the edges of your eyes, your vision fading out of focus again, mind gone fuzzy as you try your best to concentrate on your movements—up, down, all around, repeat—features screwing up in a wince as you catch the harsh bristles on your gums, again. 

“You’re making a bit of a mess, sleepyhead,” Lucifer’s tender chuckle pulls you from your foggy stupor, a quiet hum vibrating in your throat as you look over at him in question, the gesture lethargic and delayed. 

“You’ve got some—Here,” he says softly, hands curling around your shoulders and turning you to face him, then tilting your chin up. “May I?”

Another affirmative sounds on the back of your tongue and Lucifer uses his thumb to carefully clean the foaming paste collecting at the corners of your mouth, then catching a slow dribble streaming down your chin with a deft knuckle. 

A frown mars his face, his forehead creasing beneath the strain, his other hand stroking your shoulder as worried eyes search your face, slow and careful.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart?” he asks. “You’re really struggling to brush your teeth.”

“Jus—really tired,” you mumble through the bubbles in your mouth, Lucifer skillfully catching another trickle of watery paste, concern tugging at the corners of his lips, frown deepening.

“Do you want me to do it for you?” 

Sleepy eyes blink up at him, slow and sluggish, your hazy mind taking a moment to process the question.

“Mhmm,” you finally nod, hand loosening the instant his fingers skim yours, allowing him to gently uncurl your grip from around the base of your toothbrush, his own effortlessly taking its place. 

“Alright, alright, Daddy will help you,” he’s pacifying in a murmur, but his gaze has turned melty, glow dimmed and pupils gaping, lids heavy with love. “Poor thing…Last night was a long night for you, huh?” 

“S’a lot,” you confirm in a messy mumble, lids drooping heavily with the weight of exhaustion.

“Yeah?” his thumb rubs loving little circles into your jaw as he works, gaze trained on his task. “Was Daddy a little too rough with you?” 

The question is uttered out tenderly, full of sympathy and care, his brow furrowing as his eyes flit back to yours, searching for veracity in your pupils.

“Maybe I should be a bit gentler next—”

“No!” you cough around the refusal, puffy lids snapping open suddenly, the unexpected vehemency causing Lucifer to flinch.

“No?” he laughs, and it’s warm with affection, his features, hard with worry, mollifying beneath fondness, amorous amusement twinkling daintily in his eyes. 

“No,” you whine out with a tiny pout, head shaking a little in his grasp. “Please.”

“Okay,” the pad of his thumb runs along your cheek, his stare trailing after it. “If nothing else, at least Daddy will always be there to take care of you the morning after.”

[cutesytwt]

At First Sight PT2

Alastor x doe!reader

PART ONE

this is a short part 2 to a request, tbh i didn’t think about continuing it before so i struggled a bit and it’s quite short! i’m so sorry gang ;-; i hope it satiates yall if not lemme know what i can cook up for you

Warnings: love sick alastor + reader, ooc alastor, mates/soulmate trope, mentions of reproduction and pregnancy (dw yall i didn’t do the no no there is no pregnancy it’s just mentioned bc it supposed to be gn), short short, swearing, not proof read, hmmmm i think that’s it lmk whatcha think

wee little taglist for the people who asked kiss kiss: @fairyv-ice @chirimeimei

Tucked underneath Alastors chin you laid comfortably alongside him in bed. You’d been awake awhile now tail thumping softly behind you as you watched the demon sleep his smiled soft and barely showing. He laid in pyjama bottoms only chest bare and on display for you. You absentmindedly traced the scars along his torso feeling him respond with goosebumps every now and again.

“Goodmorning my doe,” Alastors voice rang out, killing the silence. It was shocking to hear his static gone and his regular voice out on display, dripped in sleepy sultry. “Good morning my buck.” You reply sickeningly sweet while crawling up to lean over his face, his eyes were lidded now gazing at you with a loving look in his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked playing with the stray hair that swept across his face. “Indeed darling very well. I should be good for several days.” He chirped happily, ears flicking. “We should head down, i need to talk to Charlie.” You say with a grimace.

Last night when Charlie caught you and Al, you felt guilty, you knew Charlie was a sweetheart but you practically abandoned her all day for Alastor, then scared her silly with a deal and sex! Groaning you grab your head while Alastor stood. With a snap of his fingers the two of you were dressed, and that did take a load of stress of you. “Come now my doe, I’ll be there the whole time, no shame and if there is we’ll be ashamed together!”

Alastor seemed pretty bright in his exclamation holding his arm out to you. Obviously you trusted Al you gave yourself and soul to him and only him just last night. So while attached at the arm the two of you trotted downstairs.

Arriving downstairs interlocked you were both greeted by all the patrons already in the living area next to the bar. Charlie was the first to make a noise gasping, meanwhile Angel was practically vibrating in his seat. Just as Angel was about to talk Vaggie interrupted. “You made a fucking deal!?” Screamed the fallen angel, hands thrown behind her as the rest of her body lurched forward. Frowning you bit your lip, of course this was gonna be an awkward conversation with Charlie, but with the whole hotel listening. Even worse!

“Neva mind that Vagina! Let’s talk about the real stuff. How big? Seven? Eight? Twelve?! Ouch-“ Vaggie knocked Angel over the head with the back of her spear. “Yikes alright, twelve is greedy…. ten?” Angel whispered cackling at Vaggie who growled at her. Alastor, obviously unhappy, began to crackle with static, black shadows oozing out from the floor and encompassing the room slowly.

At the sight of Alastor’s figure demonically stretching the room fell silent, you only gazed up at the deer slightly aroused by his stature and the way his antlers screwed out like branches. “You’re quite the sight.” You say dreamily, barely even noticing you spoke to begin with, Alastor’s head cracked down to you. Coming back to himself Alastor hummed out adoringly, petting your head but wanting to kiss you, unfortunately that was a step too far for him right now.

“Uhm anyway, YN, can you please tell me about the deal?” Charlie begged worry on her face as she looked to you and Alastor. You felt the guilt crawl at you again. “I… well I’m not sure why but there’s just this pull i have to Alastor, he asked me to be his i said yes i…” You veered off feeling too embarrassed by all the eyes, thankfully Alastor pulled you in theatrically waving his microphone around, taking the attention off you.

“Well this lovely doe was just made for me you see? I’m perfectly capable of protecting such a divine creature and though I don't doubt your ability, princess I'd feel a lot more comfortable being the one to do so.” Alastor fired off sounding like a proper radio host as he did so. Charlie looked confused but then perked up happily.

“This is thee perfect redeeming quality Alastor, love is so pure! This is great!” As Charlie felt giddy, Vaggie felt suspicious eyeing the red demon. “So what did you even sell- what was the deal?” You hummed tapping your finger to your lip; well you didn’t know, just that you gave yourself to him.

Looking up to Alastor for help here he happily obliged. “Worry not you angry little woman,” Alastor replied, pinching Vaggies cheek, her angrily pushing him off. “The contract was nothing greater than marriage.” The entire room, yourself included, was surprised at this. You knew this was a soul binding contract, but for him to make that connection on his own was well to you sweet as ever. Your tail flicked happily behind you as you looked to Alastor who returned to your side.

Charlie was as equally as happy as you were, but Vaggie and Husk kept within the same boat of apprehension. “Why so suddenly?” Asked Vaggie again, but Alastor shrugged her off. “I’m unsure dear, just that i couldn’t resist this little doe. Like fate.” Alastor pondered meanwhile you briefly seethed at Alastor for referring to Vaggie as dear.

“Maybe it’s like some soulmate bullshit between deer?” Angel pipped up, putting in his required two cents. Husk groaned at that, but Charlie squeaked jumping up. “That is totally possible! It happened with my dad! Well, y’know in the beginning.” Charlie chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. Alastor shook his head rapidly a soft laugh echoing out of him.

“No way dear, how is that possible?” He mocked bopping Charlie atop the head with his mic, you again weren’t happy hearing him call another demon dear, but you let it fly. “Well you both are deer, could it be instinctual?” Charlie reasoned her pitch, giving away her uncertainty.

You hummed looking up towards Alastor to see him already looking down to you. “I think Alastor and I would need to talk about it privately before we have a group conversation about it. It’s kinda of embarrassing.” You admit already tired of the discussion. Charlie however didn’t like the idea of not having an answer, so with a plan in mind she turned to Vaggie. “Vaggie can you take them to the library, maybe look some stuff up online? We need to figure this out.” Charlie asked giving Vaggie a look that conveyed this was more of a do this rather than a can you do this.

Nodding her head Vaggie looked at you, who looked at Alastor. Alastor shrugged and muttered he didn’t see the issue, so long as you were safe. So you and Vaggie headed off, meanwhile Charlie calmly asked to speak with Alastor in private.

Alone in Alastor’s radio tower, Charlie sat on one side of the broadcasting table while Alastor sat behind it, tunes playing out of him. “So Al,” Charlie started breathing out a deep breath. “Can you please tell me what’s going on with the deal, listen i can’t have them get hurt! I’ll even make a deal.” Charlie said sadly gazing off, she didn’t want to make a deal, but she would.

Alastor watched her, and pitied her odd behaviour. Resting his chin on his hand Alastor sat quietly for a moment, Charlie waiting with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “It was nothing malicious that i can assure you. Although, i’m not sure what happened between them and myself, I felt pretty agressive in my feelings to protect them. Of course that private moment between us should’ve stayed private,” Alastors words were stern as he glared down at Charlie who shrunk bashfully in her seat.

“But suppose since you know i will confess in that moment of intensity, i did the only thing I knew how to do to my dear. I’m not particularly good with emotions, and so I simply ensured I’d have them with a deal.” Tapping his nails on the desk Alastor kept his composure but inside he was scolding himself for even letting that much truth out. Charlie seemed to like the sound of that though, nodding her head in agreement.

“So you won’t, and you don’t have any plans to hurt them?” Alastors ears pinned back subconsciously, he didn’t enjoy being accused of cruelty when it came to you, and he didn’t know he could be any more truthful. “My dear i swear, on my mother, not a hair on their pretty doe head, will ever be hurt by me.” Holding his right hand up, head high Alastor watched as Charlie eased into a smile. Nodding at him.

Rejoining the crew downstairs Alastor and Charlie were shocked to see you and Vaggie had returned. “How come you guys are back so quick?” Vaggie turned at the sound of Charlie’s voice, eyes bugged slightly. “Yeah you won’t believe what we found.” Vaggie said handing Charlie a book about demons and mating. Charlie didn’t seem too keen on the book ‘uhs’ immediately falling from her mouth.

You stepped up, opening the book to the checked marked place. “It’s species dependent on how mating affects someone, in this case Doe’s are more of a rarity in hell meaning it was an instinct for the two of us to kinda ‘mate’ or ‘bond’ to one another, as if we had to worry about going extinct.” You scoffed watching as Charlie glazed over the words while listening to you. “Weird. It must be because you’re a hellborn and an angel, so technically you can reproduce.”

A record scratch sounded out from Alastor, the lot of you looking towards his stiff figure. “Don’t worry Al, we’re pretty sure you’re still unable to.” Charlie hushed to him, before giving you a look that told you, she didn’t really know that to be true. You weren’t worried though, almost a hundred percent certain that he would not be able to have children. “Welp, at least now we know that’s a thing,” Angel sighed from the background, Vaggie glaring at him.

Pulling you into his side Alastor grinned his poise returned. “Look at us figuring stuff out why wasn’t this just the teamwork we all needed, good job.” Alastor applauded slightly condescending, but Charlie was happy with it nonetheless giving two thumbs up to you and Alastor.

[cutesytwt]

A Deer Valentines

By Dazelvel

It's finally here! Enjoy!

Alastor and his partner have a moment together on Valentine's day.

Fin~

AHHHH I hope you all liked it! The amount of effort and time put into this project was tiring but worth it. Please feel free to leave a note~

(Their so cute aggggaggga 😭)