#I’m sorry he’s just a genuinely sweet man

[silkythewriter]

Hello! Can I request alastor x reader where the two were married while they were alive, but reader died via illness or something and went to hell (though they never partaked in the cannibalism) and the reunite in hell?

“I'll love you 'til I'm dead”

Warning!: Angst, but eventually fluff! A bit of OOC since I haven’t written in awhile.. (.,.)💧

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note: LONGGGGG TIME NO SEE, HIYA! IM SO SORRY FOR MY HIATUS OF SORTS BUT I FELT LIKE WRITING SUM SMALL ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ I apologize!, I hope you guys enjoy and I’m so sorry for disagreeing yet again!.

Summary!: Spouse! Reader dying via sickness, but reuniting with alastor in hell.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

Louise (Louise)

I'll love you 'til I'm dead

Louise (Louise)

Not even if she likes the way you dance

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

First of all, he cherished you to the fullest content. As stuck up as he seems to be smile and all, he was in desperate need of support and attention. And you supplying both of those was all he needed even if he didn’t say out loud the tender touches and moments you both shared alone was enough to tell you everything.

Your relationship was nothing less then sweet and tender, and depending if you knew of his..ahem..little side hobby, it was innocent as well!

He cared for you so deeply, so desperately, to the point where you became his tie to humanity. Of course he knew how to play a role of a sane man, but even then he needed you to tie him to the small humanity and sanity he had.

Although not a big fan of physical affection himself he would in private of course, indulge in your soft touches, and hold. He and there he may quietly slip next to you just so you could softly run you fingers across his skin.

But of course the unviable happen, as the world ripped him of what he held so dear. Maybe as a punishment for his sins and misdeeds, or simply because it could.

Of course in the 30’s medicine was far from advanced, not only that but expensive. So when the news arrived of your newly found sickness all he could do was smile and nod at the doctor as if he wasn’t receiving the most dreadful news.

At first, he genuinely did hope for a recovery, he believed you would get better. Sure a tiny voice in his head was feeding him scary thoughts, and his gut twisted and turned. He felt something was off but surely it was nothing!, right?.

But as your health deteriorated so did his mental state and sanity, even worse then it once was. He put up a front though, for your sake and his, comforting you and saying how you’ll be fine soon, and recover then both of you could go off and do something you always wanted to do.

At some points of repeating this it really turned into him assuring himself. That your not leaving him, no, not anytime soon.

The more you fell ill the more you watched him spiral infront of you. And all you really could do was stare at him with sadden eyes as you gave comforting touches against his cheek or holding him close, even if you could barely pull yourself up from the bed you laid.

You felt your time coming close to ending, and somehow so did he. But unlike you he denied it to the fullest extent.

“Please dear don’t speak of such things, don’t worry yourself. You’ll be fine you’ll see!, now just rest my dear”

He wanted to believe it’ll pass over anytime now, ignoring the doctors he spent fortunes on. And sometimes he does blame them even if they just told the truth. He hated how they couldn’t help you, how he couldn’t help you.

So the day of you passing was the day he lost his final tie to humanity. If not for you, why give such a nasty world mercy?.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

The minute they lowered your casket and buried you with the dirt is also the day he decided to amp up his murders.

He’s not sloppy with his murders their always calculated and tidy but grossem. Even with this, losing you he couldn’t concentrate which didn’t help his case as his blood lust grew and grew.

Each and every murder his mind went blank, thoughts of you kept flooding in that he desperately wanted to rip from his mind.

If a woman that wore you same fragrant passed him. She would be gone in a matter of days.

Nights were colder, harsher, he always assumed karma would catch up to him, but to him not you.

He often questioned what happened how did it happen. How did you even get such a illness?, and why did it have to be you?. We’re you in heaven watching him in his pitiful state? Was there even such a thing?. If there was…he surely wasn’t going to see you he knew where he was damned to go, but you?, he was sure you deserved the Pearl-ist set of wings.

Depending on the days, months or years following your death, he’s like a ticking time bomb.

He yearns for you in such a way he’s humiliated at it in a way. He misses you desperately, widowed too soon, he always assumed it would be you to be in this position, but he assumed wrong.

Even then he couldn’t tell if he could subject you to the twist of his heart and guts. He would beg to die before you, but the pain he feels now is something he would never want you to feel.

Following thoughts of your death was also his. Would he get to see you soon?, one last glance before being damned?.

He never truly moved on, cause you were his only love. Loving someone for him atleast, was rare in a romantic sense.

At some point he genuinely does just continue his murders till his death, maybe it was your passing that truly killed him. After your passing he was a bit hasty, maybe that’s what lead him to be shot in the woods. But who truly knows?

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

Now, after his death is where everything truly came together.

His rise to power was fairly quick killing overloads one by one gaining more voices on his radio.

But the lingering feeling of hope stayed in him…maybe you were here? Waiting for him?, But at the same time he hated this life for you, in such a miserable and disgusting yet admittedly amusing place(at least to him)

Now depending on how you found him maybe the minute his radio debuted. Or maybe by a game of telephone by the residents in hell whispering rumors and describing someone all to familiar to you.

Either way! You guys do eventually find each other. By chance or destiny is up to you

The minute he spots you, hears you, even senses you, he freezes. His smile never flattering but static surrounding the area as he processes what’s happening. Is this some sort of trick?, how..how did you end up here?

In a matter a seconds though he’s in front of you, looming as his shadow grows in suspense.

He holds his appearance and self image very important but in this tiny moment of silence. He lets it slip even if just a bit, smile never faltering but I’m his eyes a glimpse of renewed joy. Genuine joy, not form the harms of others but from something warm…something bitter sweet.

Maybe it’s you who pipes up snapping him from observing you like a painting in a museum.

“See?” You said softly grabbing his hand gently like you used to do, as you softly brought it to your face and softly planted it on your cheek. “I’m real” you said with a soft smile (SILENT HILL REFERENCE!!¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Depending on where you are he’s quick to whisk you away to somewhere secluded.

Despite the questions on his mind all he can do is silently stare at you taking in ever detail, even if some changes here and there, you were still you. The you that he missed so desperately for all too long.

Even if not one for physical affection he’s quick with holding you, scared of you being taken from him again, taking in all he can.

Your so much more precious then he leads on, and he’ll be damned to second hell if he loses you again.

In the period of first meeting you again he is keen on keeping an eye one you 24/7, doesn’t matter what powers or how long you survived without him in hell. He can’t risk it, especially not now as he started accumulating enemies so quickly.

He’ll treat you like it’s your first time dating, of course in his old time-y way, but either surprising you with flowers at random times of the day, or watching you get giddy when he kisses the crown of your head.

Now that he knows, and felt the pain of losing you, every moment you have together form than on is cherished more than before. He remembers every day with you like the back of his hand, what you ate, what you said, what you wore, and more!

He know’s…he knows he’s a messed up, and vail man. He understands the gruesome things he’s done with little to no regret. But if he did in somehow and some way do good, something good to earn you back in his afterlife man is he greatful for it.

Some nights he does just stare at you. He’s scared, he will never show it but he is. If he loses you again, for eternity, he’s not sure what’d he do with himself. And that, the fact you weight so heavily on him is the second scariest thing, first being losing you.

Over all, he’s taken aback having you back, but he gets use to it very quickly, your soft comforting touches and your voice that brings back a flood of memories is something he will never forget nor let ago, he isn’t losing you this time, and he’ll do anything to make sure of that.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

WOW THAT WAS LONG, I LOVED WRITING IT THOUGH OH MY GOSH I LOVED THIS IDEA, PLEASE REQUEST AGAIN!!! \(^ヮ^)/

[dragon-dress-128]

He’s just a goofy lil guy 💜

[whereismyhat5678]

I haven’t drawn Fake Peppino in AGES

For any Fake Peppino lovers out there that I’ve disappointed I’m so sorry- 💀🙇‍♀️

And for anyone WHO HASN’T EVER SEEN me actually draw him I’M EVEN MORE SORRY 🙏🙇‍♀️🙏🙇‍♀️🙏🙇‍♀️

Now I personally don’t want newer viewers seeing my cringe ass Fake pep art but if anyone who does wanna see it- (HEADS UP FOR INTENSE BODY HORROR-) take these few links (I’m sorry I can’t scroll through my entire blog again just take some examples- 🥲):

Here, here, here, here and here.

The first one is my first ever drawing of him, I did not draw him normal- 💀

Anyways….this means have I changed how I draw him? Yes!

Look at the silly goober!! I may draw him just like this for now however…It was fun drawing him like the slimy disaster he was but it’s fine-…It always took a bit of time to draw those 🤷‍♀️

But just for the fun of it, and for old times sake, take a body horror Fake Peppino: (Warning, it looks kinda bad- 💀)

[rainymoodlet]

Kiss Me in Komorebi+ 🌸

[Episode Five] One Last Push!

We all knew it, but Rune is so much more than his looks! He’s been the most forward about wanting to know who the real Daniel Taylor is, and it shows! (Man loads up the “Get to Know” interaction like it’s pixelated oxygen!) Dan’s not used to being read like a book, but bless our dear Rune for not holding back!

[ Part 10/?? ] 🌹

@bionibots

[fuzzyunicorn]

To continue the tag: that is our blessing from Him for our endurance thru sufferment without a single complaint or a cry of pain, for obeying him without question, showing up and showing out every day, and especially for our actions of refusing to harm them in return. He commanded me twice to retaliate & bc I never did we passed our tests and will be blessed to the maximum so ask away for anything you🖤 want my love you🖤 deserve it and will receive it. He said the only thing we did to them was make their true colors bleed out in the wash, so expose them for who they truly are. Vengeance is His says the Lord and a-fucking-men 2 that. God bless you 2 all the law enforcement (not the crooks) and a massive thank you

[augustinewrites]

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

[strawbeerossi]

The Ballad Of Dr. Reid

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: When you zone out in the middle of one of your lectures, your professor asks you to stay after class to check in on you.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, Professor/Student, age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), minor hand kink, porn with little plot, heated kissing, fingering, spit, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (kinda, right?), reader gets a facial

Word Count: 1.9K

Kinktober Day Two: Power Imbalance

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You’d always had a liking for criminal justice, so taking the courses in college seemed like a no brainer. You really liked Criminology 1424. It was an interesting class, one that piqued your interest far more than the other classes you were in the process of taking. 

In addition to being genuinely interested in the subject, you were more interested in the professor of the class; Dr. Spencer Reid.

He was soft spoken for the most part, a little on the awkward side but that was okay. He was experienced from his fifteen years in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and would use cases he’d faced for examples in his lessons. His lectures were long and albeit pretty boring at times but you had no problem watching the man at the front of class talk, his hands emphasizing just how prepared he was for the topic at hand. You’d realized that there were topics he definitely enjoyed getting into, his body language and his overexaggerated gestures being proof of it.

You’d always thought the FBI and the darkness he faced on a near daily basis would exhaust him, make him harder and more stoic, the seriousness of the world on his shoulders. No, instead he offered smiles, helped any student who came to him, and was painfully oblivious to the amount of young men and women auditing the class just to admire the attractive professor.

It was like any other lecture, delving into the intricacies of triggers and what could bring them on. It was a lesson he liked, judging by his animation this evening. You’d done your best to keep up, to get plenty of notes jotted down due to this being on the impending final. However, you were too busy drooling over the curly haired beauty, his veined hands flailing with each word that fell from his lips. 

What you wouldn’t give to have those hands on your body, to feel the gentle touch of your professor as he was letting his fingertips memorize all the dips and curves of your body, to familiarize himself with how to pleasure you.

His hands on-

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

You were snapped from your thoughts. The sound of your name falling from his mouth was like sweet honey, drizzling over your eardrums as you could feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Great. Now the whole class is looking at you. 

“Y-Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry, just, uh, not all the way here today.” You explained, slowly looking back down at the notebook covered in scribbles. So much for getting any work done today. 

The class passed by painfully slowly after that. Even the attractive man in front of you didn’t seem to speed up the clock. You’d sat quietly, giving up with the notes aspect as you’d switched to doodling on the edges of your notebook. You’d done your best to try and be one of the first ones out whenever your professor dismissed the class full of students. However your shoulders slumped with defeat when the sea of bodies filed out first.

There was no clean getaway.

“Y/N, do you mind staying back and having a chat?”

Fuck.

Mustering up enough courage to face the man you’d gotten distracted fantasizing about, you were approaching his desk. Even up close, he was a beautiful man. Even in his early to mid forties, he still looked delicious. “I apologize for getting distracted earlier. I was just-”

“Looking at me? Y/N,” There was a deep breath that left his lips. “You can tell me if this tie is ugly. My coworker Penelope insisted I wear it. I love her but some of her ties aren’t really my style.” 

He was joking, easing the awkwardness and the unknown tension filling the lecture hall. Maybe he’d been feeling the same way about you. He looked at you a lot as is, however you may have just been in a delusional state of mind right now. There was a hope that Spencer would reciprocate those feelings. “It’s not.. It’s a little ugly but that, uh, wasn’t what I was, uh, staring at.” You decided to just be honest. Worst you can do is transfer out of the class. 

Or run away to a new city, start over again at a new university. 

“Really?” 

“Really. Sir, with the risk of coming across as inappropriate, it’s hard to pay attention to you at the front of the class. It’s not a bad thing. You just always look…” You paused and gave him a once over. “Really nice.” You spoke. 

There was a blush that spread across the older man’s cheeks, an eyebrow raising. “You think so? At risk of sounding even more inappropriate and unprofessional,” He paused as he leaned forward a bit, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s hard to teach when you come in looking as beautiful as you do. Makes me just wanna stare at you the whole class.” 

The words were lower than usual, a rush of warmth going straight to your core from the mere compliment. 

“Plus when you come in with a new lipstick shade..” His lanky body was pushing off the desk before he approached, his fingers resting gently under your chin before tilting it upwards. “It drives me insane. You may think I don’t notice but…” This was crossing the boundary of teacher and student, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. “I do. Makes me think of these pretty lips wrapped around me, those eyes glossed over with pleasure.” He hummed, chuckling at the way your breath hitched, eyes locking with his. 

You didn’t know what came over you at this point, however you could help yourself as you were launching yourself forward, mouth smashing against his in a quick kiss that he seemed enthusiastic to reciprocate. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling your frame closer to his chest as the kiss filled with desire and hunger was escalating.

The next thing you knew, you were being sat against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, your eyes widening. “H-Hold on, don't you have another class??” She asked immediately as she let her hands squeeze the broad shoulders. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” Spencer responded, hands trailing to the waistband of the pants you were wearing. The thought of having sex in a hall where anyone could walk in at any point was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t one for exhibitionism normally, however you weren’t gonna turn this down. 

“Fuck it.” Your words made a grin spread across Spencer’s face, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while working on getting your pants pulled off, panties following in one swift motion. Licking his hand, the older male didn’t waste any time before moving the wet hand between your legs, his spit working as lube as he wanted to make sure you were wet enough for the deed. Lord knows that he didn’t want you tearing at any point. 

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit had already sent electricity through your body, a light gasp escaping your lips. 

“Such a pretty girl, bet you haven’t ever had any man pay attention to you, huh? I can only imagine you’ve been with selfish little boys who haven’t even attempted to bring you to orgasm..” He sighed playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips once more. He was addicted, drinking in your moans as his thumb was massaging your clit, one finger pushed deep in your weeping hole while he was working you open.

This was definitely something new, you didn’t really sleep around so the few times you’d engaged in casual sex were quick, rushed. You sure as hell knew that the past couple of dudes couldn’t even find your clit. You were intoxicated on his touch the small movements he made eliciting moans and gasps into his mouth. With your hips rolling against the touch, you let your eyes flutter shut. 

“As much as I hate to stop, we’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m dying to be inside of you.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving to undo his belt before tugging his pants down his legs, boxers being pulled down soon after. The sight of his hard cock had your full attention. “Ready? You’re sure you want to keep going?”

“Yes!” You rasped, making him chuckle while his large hands were spreading your thighs apart, letting a trail of his spit fall onto your pussy before he was giving himself a few tugs. The thick tip of his shaft was spreading the spit onto your cunt, a hum falling from his lips. So pretty. God, I hate having to crunch time like this.” He groaned while letting the thick head push into your hole, your mouth falling open at the delicious burn that came with the stretch of your inner walls. If only you knew about your professor’s cock sooner.. All the stress of studying for quizzes would’ve been a million times easier.

His hips snapped without warning, a loud moan falling from your mouth while the male couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. Can’t have anyone hearing you.” His hand barely did justice to hide your moans and cries as his hips continued to roughly thrust, the desk rocking steadily with each movement.

“Fuck. It’s like this pussy was made for me, look at the way she takes my cock and is desperate for more. So greedy.” The vulgar words from your otherwise sweet and seemingly innocent man’s mouth was strangely attractive, attractive to a level that your inner walls were spasming around the hard cock nestled deep inside of you, so far you felt like he was hitting your cervix. Then again, you could’ve just been exaggerating. 

With your fingernails digging into his clothed shoulders, you could feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so tight that you felt like the floodgates were going to burst open. 

“I-I’m gonn-” You stuttered, words muffled against his hand while Spencer nodded. 

“I’m almost there. Cum for me.” His words were husky, tone dripping with ecstasy as he let out a low groan. 

As your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, the both of you were letting out a mixture of groans, mons and even a few whimpers slipping from the older man’s lips. It was all too much, finally letting the dam break as you were letting your head fall back, mouth agape as your thighs were shaking, your creamy arousal making a ring around his cock.

There was a little whine at the emptiness you felt when his cock wasn’t inside of you, the male opting to gently move you from the desk before putting you on your knees. “Look at you. Fuck. Stick your tongue out for me. Make sure you close your eyes too. I don’t wanna give you any infections.” Even in a huffing and panting mess, he looked out for you.

Doing as you were told, you let your mouth fall open while your eyes fluttered shut, the male groaning at the sight as he roughly fisted at his cock. There was only a few pumps before his cock was twitching, it being his turn for his head to fall back as he was painting your face with his spent. The load was a lot more than you expected.

Maybe he needed this just as bad as you did. 

As the act was coming to an end, Spencer was trying to catch his breath while tugging up his pants and boxers. He’d retrieved a few tissues from his desk before leaning down to wipe your face, a light hum leaving his lips. “Maybe you can talk to me about some extra notes you could add to your doodle book. Say over coffee tomorrow morning?”

“Deal.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Idolification.

Pairing: Yandere!Itadori Yuuji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: No Curse/College AU, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Prolonged Stalking, (Unintentional) Emotional Manipulation, Oral Sex, Drunk Sex, Unprotected Sex, Age Gap (Reader's 27, Yuuji's 22), Intimidation, Brief Mommy Kink, Pepper Spray, and Obsessive Behavior. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

“I’m so, so, so, so sorry.”

“It was an accident, you don’t have to—” Yuuji was cut off by another splash of milk, quickly followed by another jet of water. Her makeshift treatment was harsh, the temperature alternating unpredictably between ice cold and scalding hot, but Yuuji took the abuse with a smile that was almost bright enough to distract you from the red, aggravated skin around his eyes. Almost. “It’s alright,” he managed, eventually, doing his best not to sound like he was being slowly drowned in your bathtub. “Believe it or not, that’s only the second worst thing I’ve gotten in my eyes.”

Knowing him, it was probably closer to the fourth or fifth, but that did little to ease your guilt. He’d been leaving as you were getting home from your second twelve-hour shift of the week, and from there, it’d been a comedy of errors. He spotted you coming down the hall, haggard and bleary-eyed, and saw the babysitter who’d spent more summers than not keeping him (and, by association, his older half-brother) out of trouble before their family fell off of the face of the planet, and reacted the way Yuuji reacted to most things – with open arms and a contagious smile. You’d looked at him, a far cry from the kid you’d spent so much time looking after, and seen a very strange, very grown man loitering outside of the door to your shoebox of an apartment before charging towards you with a manic expression and, well, you had always wanted an excuse to use the pepper spray you carried near-religiously. It was only a shame it had to be on someone as sweet as Yuuji.

Now, you were on your knees on the floor of your bathroom, your fingers tangled in Yuuji’s hair as your roommate gently waterboarded him with a cartoon of organic oat milk in one hand and your decade-old showerhead in the other. The front of his t-shirt was soaked through, his lung half-flooded at least, but he was still grinning like you’d greeted him with a blank check and a litter of puppies. “Honestly, it’s on me,” he insisted, his enthusiasm too potent not to be genuine. “Miss Shoko mentioned she was living with someone.”

At the mention of your roommate, Shoko Ieiri, your attention shifted to the woman in-question. You weren’t an idiot. After the shock died down, it hadn’t taken long for you to piece together why a young man would be rushing to get out of your apartment while your attractive (albeit, socially dead) roommate was home alone. When she met your prying eyes, you shot her a pointed glare. “Cradle rocker.”

She threatened to turn the showerhead on you, but relented as soon as you flinched away. “He’s in one of my classes,” she muttered, then pushed herself to her feet with a soft groan. “We’re out of milk,” she said, shaking the empty carton. “Let his eyes air-dry. I’ll be in my office – come get me if he starts crying again.”

“I’m a doctor too, y’know.”

“You’ll be a doctor in another year. Right now, you’re an intern.” She eyed Yuuji wearily. “An intern who physically assaults her patients, at that.”

Without any real way to retort, you stuck your tongue out – a gesture Shoko mimicked as she slipped out of the crime scene that was your bathroom. Despite Shoko’s advice, you fished a towel off the nearest rack and handed it to Yuuji, who accepted it with a grateful hum. “I really am sorry,” you repeated, burying your face in your hands. “It’s just, it’s been so long, and you look so different, and god, it’s been—”

“—ten years,” Yuuji filled in, probably tired of hearing you repeat the same two excuses. “I remember, ‘cuz you invited us to your graduation that year. I wanted to go, too, but Gramps got sick and…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with an airy chuckle. “You know how it is.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “I loved your grandfather. How is he?”

Yuuji’s smile wavered for the first time. “He passed, actually. A few years ago.”

Fuck.

If the building was going to collapse and bury you in the rubble, that would’ve been the time.

“Sukuna’s doing good, though,” Yuuji went on, kind enough to pretend there hadn’t been a lapse. “He opened a restaurant a few months ago. It’s a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but it’s been keeping him out of the ring.” His expression brightened. “And you’re a doctor! I mean, I knew you would be, but you’re a doctor!”

You felt your face heat up his brother’s name, your eyes falling to the tiled floor. “Almost a doctor. I just started my internship.” And they’d already managed to work you half to death. “You’re in med school, right? Shoko never teaches undergrad.”

“It’s my first semester,” he said with a slight laugh. “It’s harder than I thought it’d be, though. Miss Shoko offered to give me a few pointers, but, y’know—” He sighed, let his head lull back. “I’m starting to think I’m just not smart enough for stuff like this.”

“You shouldn’t say that kind of thing about yourself. You’ve always been—” You cut yourself off with a sudden gasp, clapping your hands together. “If you’re struggling, let me help you study! I have tomorrow off, and I promise, I’m not as strict as Shoko.”

Immediately, he straightened up, your towel still strung around his neck and his smile returned to its full brightness. It only dimmed slightly when he glanced down at his damp shirt. “…there won’t be as much pepper spray this time, right?”

His smile was as contagious as it’d been when he was still a kid, begging you to let him stay up yet another hour past his already-lenient bedtime. Despite his bloodshot eyes and your lingering, only slightly lessened guilt, you found yourself biting back a grin.  

“No pepper spray, this time. I promise.”

~

“Room for one more?”

She glanced over her shoulder as you struggled past the jammed sliding door, taking a moment to evaluate your stiff shoulders and strained smile over the thick frames of her glasses before nodding curtly. Your relief was immediate and all-encompassing. Honestly, you should’ve known better than to do anything but shake your head and flee the country when Yuuji invited you to hang out with a few of his friends, but he’d sworn up and down that it wasn’t a party and promised that you wouldn’t be out of place and pouted in a way you’d never been able to resist. You were starting to think that, no matter how old you got, you’d never learn to say ‘no’ to Yuuji.

The blaring music was only vaguely muffled by the glass, the blurry outlines of other guests playing behind thin curtains. There was a red solo cup in your hand, a lipstick stain on your cheek from a girl who’d passed out half an hour ago, but you were hyper-aware that you were too old to be at a college party with people at least half a decade younger than you, in the best cases. You braced yourself against the balcony railing with a soft groan, crossing your arms and hanging your head low enough to warrant a hum of sympathy from the woman next to you. She held up a box of cigarettes – the cheap kind you and Shoko used to split on the days you had to decide between food and rent – and you accepted her offer with the kind of gratitude you could only assume a starving lion would’ve shown to a limping gazelle.

“Maki,” she said, shaking one into your open palm and fishing a lighter out of her pocket. “You’re one of Itadori’s friends?”

“You could say that.” You let her light you up before taking a shaky drag, the bitter taste a welcome distraction. “I’ve been tutoring him for a few weeks. I think he just invited me as a way to say ‘thank you’.”

Her eyes flashed with recognition, the corner of his lips turning upward for the first time. “You’re the chick who used to babysit him. (Y/n), right?”

“He’s mentioned me?”

“He won’t shut up about you. Every other word out of his mouth is ‘(Y/n) this’ or ‘(Y//n) that’.” She tapped her cigarette against the edge of the railing, sending a few flakes of ash fluttering down to the street below. “Megumi gets it the worst, but we’ve all had to see the fucking pictures.”

“That… that sounds like him.” You forced out a half-hearted laugh, then wavered. “I’m sorry, pictures?”

Maki opened her mouth, but the balcony door was jerked open before she could respond. Yuji appeared in the open entryway, cheeks flushed and grin wide. He drawled your name in a single slur before moving on to more important topics. “We found a—We found a karaoke machine! ‘gumi thinks he can get it running!”

You sent Maki an apologetic look, but she only shrugged, a sliver of a grin. “Better get him tucked in.”

This time, when you smiled back, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

~

It took a month for Yuuji to start ‘forgetting’ his textbooks when he came over for your little study sessions.

It took three for Yuuji to drop the pretense of studying at all – calling you out to some late-night diner or lethargic early-morning café or, better yet, showing up at your apartment door unannounced and empty-handed with only that unnerving smile and a half-baked excuse to spend time with you.

It took six for his hand to drift just a little lower than your shoulder while you watched some awful, b-rated horror movie on your well-beaten couch. You let him reach your waist before clearing your throat and shifting away, your smile pained.

“I… I think you should probably leave,” you half-mumbled, your voice shaking. “It’s getting late.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” Predictably, Yuuji was undeterred. His persistence used to be endearing, but now, it just felt unfair. “I don’t mind sleeping over, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s not like we’ve never spent the night together.”

A nervous laugh, his hand planted just a little too close to your thigh. “I wish you wouldn’t phrase it like—”

“I mean, I know I’m your type.” It was almost impressive, what he could say with such an innocent expression. His free hand found its way to your other side, pinning you between the arm of the couch and his broad chest. “I know you had a thing for Sukuna, and everyone says we’re practically identical. That means you should be into me too, right?”

“Yuuji,” Your eyes darted to your phone, left absent-mindedly on your coffee table. The urge was there, but it wasn’t like he would actually hurt you. He’d always been a sweet kid – a little overzealous, but that wasn’t a crime. This was just… a bad decision, one you had to stop him from making before he did something he’d regret. “Sukuna is my age, and—”

“I don’t care about that.” He cut in swiftly, definitively. His bright eyes had glazed over, catching the dim light of your T.V. as he leaned in further, as his face came to hover less than a full breath away from yours. “I’ve loved you since I was eight. Can Sukuna say that?”

“That’s not—”

“I know you used to fuck him.” His chest was touching yours, now, his breath hot against your skin. “I know you’d fuck him again, if he was here. I know—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. It was a weak blow, simultaneously hesitant and instinctual, but your open palm made contact with his cheek with a deafening crack, his head snapping to the side and putting that much more distance between his body and yours. He moved to cup his swelling cheek, and you took the opportunity to slip out from underneath him and stumble to your feet. “I think you should leave,” you repeated, the words spat hastily enough to blend together. “Please, Yuuji.”

For a second, he didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Then, he turned to face you, his smile wiped away and his expression so blank, you couldn’t remember how you’d ever looked at him and saw anything other than void.

He didn’t say anything, only pushing himself to his feet and shambling out of your living room. You kept your eyes on the ground until his footsteps faded out of earshot, until you heard the front door creak open and slam shut with enough force to shake the walls.

When you were sure he was gone, you collapsed onto your couch and laid motionless while an actress screamed in the background.

~

“Your golden boy’s asking about you, again.”

You groaned, buckling at the waist and burying your face in your arms. Shoko glanced up from the exams she was grading, but whatever sympathy she might’ve felt apparently didn’t warrant the effort it would’ve taken to reach across the table to comfort you. “Satoru’s been getting it, too,” she went on. “That’s how you know it’s bad. I can’t remember the last time someone managed to talk over that narcissist.”

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t remember how many times you’d already apologized for Yuuji’s recent fixation. “He’s… probably just worried about his grades, or something.”

Her lips quirked into a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“I was helping him study,” you admitted, reluctantly. As much as Shoko had to hear about your unruly patients and patronizing coworkers, you’d been less open about how much time you were spending with a student fresh out of undergrad. “He’s never been that good with school. I used to have to help him with his homework in elementary school, too.”

This time, she decided your conversation was important enough to earn her full attention. “Itadori’s one of my best students.”

You felt your chest tighten. “But, the first time he came over, you were tutoring—”

She said your name, curt and blunt, and you went quiet. With a sigh, she shook her head, dropping her pen entirely. “When was the last time I offered to personally tutor a struggling student?”

You swallowed dryly. “Never.”

“And when was the last time I gave our full address out to literally anyone?”

“Never,” you said, again. After a second, you added, “Well, there was that one time with Iori…”

“Not the point. I know you don’t want to hear it, but the kid’s a creep. You might have to—”

She was cut off by your phone buzzing against the table. Your eyes scanned over the caller’s name scrawled across the dim screen before moving back to Shoko, her gaze now narrowed into a sharp glare. “Don’t.”

And, for a second, you didn’t. You convinced yourself that you wouldn’t. You told yourself that, after you bought Satoru around of drinks as an apology, you’d do… you’d do something about Yuuji, even if you weren’t sure what you could do, just yet.

Then, you let yourself picture the kid you used to watch for a few dollars an hour while his grandfather was sick and his brother was on the other side of town doing something dubiously legal at best, dead in a ditch at worst – all wide eyes and scuffed elbows and lopsided grins. You let yourself remember the way he’d ramble about his day after you picked him up from school, and how excited he was the first time you made it to one of his school’s sports days, and how he’d clung to you and sobbed the day before his family moved to the other side of the country. At the time, you’d been thankful to have one less responsibility, relieved that you’d never have to see Sukuna again. You’d been selfish, even for a kid.

The phone was in your hand in a moment, the call answered in another. You stood as you brought it to your ear, hoping that would be enough to block out Shoko’s mumbled cursing.

“Yuuji?”

~

The silence in your car was thick, nearly suffocating.

It’d been one of Yuuji’s friends calling from his phone – the dark-haired one with the monotone voice, barely audible over the blaring music of whichever nightclub they were standing outside of. He’d asked you to, in his own words, ‘come get your problem child’, and when you’d asked why Yuuji needed you specifically, he’d only handed the phone back to Yuuji and let you listen to a full minute of whining, your name the only coherent thing to make it off of Yuuji’s tongue. Shoko urged you not to go, and yet, twenty minutes later, Yuuji was slumped over in your passenger seat, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in an uncharacteristic frown.

He was less talkative than he’d been on the phone. The clingier stages of his inebriation had passed, leaving room for a disassociated sort of passiveness that meant, even if you’d been brave enough to try and start a conversation, his response wouldn’t be anything worth that kind of effort. By the time you reached his apartment complex, the knot sitting at the pit of your stomach was equal parts dread and second-hand embarrassment, but you tried to keep your tone light as you turned to him. “It’s time to get out, Yuuji.” And then, when he failed to move, “You’re on your own from here.”

He looked at you, eyes unfocused and hands folded almost childishly over his lap. You softened more than you should’ve at the sight. “…do you need help getting home?”

A second of thought, a quick nod. You shouldn’t. You knew that you really, really shouldn’t.

And yet, somehow, you found yourself in front of Yuuji’s door, fussing over the lock as Yuuji clung to your side, his face buried in the dip of your shoulder. He was cooperative enough; able to stand on his own with minimum swaying but not so lucid that it took more than a gentle suggestion to lead him to his bedroom, where he was more than happy to collapse onto his unmade bed. With a shaky exhale, you turned to leave, but something caught on your sleeve – Yuuji’s hand, when you could bring yourself to check.

“Stay,” he mumbled, his voice dampened by the sheets his face was buried in. “Please?”

You felt your throat go dry. “I can’t.”

You expected him to go shrill and whiny, but he proved to be a touch more mature than the ten-year-old you used to babysit. Rather flatly, he asked, “Why not?”

How were you supposed to answer that? Would it be good enough to say that you didn’t want to, that you couldn’t spend your night looking after a drunk kid you’d known a decade ago, that you’d already done more than you should’ve just by giving him a ride? Was it worth trying to talk to him at all when he could barely hold his head up? Would it do anything to soften the burn of the bile rising into your throat to point out that, the last time you’d been in the same room as him, he’d tried to—

No, it wasn’t and it wouldn’t and you had to leave. With your heart racing in your chest, you tried to jerk yourself out of his hold, but his vice-grip only grew tighter, his head rising up from the mattress just enough to let him stare at you with those big, bleary eyes. “Why not?”

“Yuuji, this isn’t—”

He was so, so much stronger than he had been, the last time you’d seen each other. One second, you were on your feet, at his bedside, and the next, you were on the floor of his bedroom, forced onto your hands and knees while Yuuji’s body pressed into yours from above. “I love you,” he said, his voice as steady as it’d ever been. “I love you, and I—Fuck—” He panted against the back of your neck, something uncomfortably stiff grinding against your ass. “It makes me so fucking hard when you say my name like that.”

A hand slipped under the hem of your top, his palm pressing into the small of your back. You moved to speak, then thought better of it, biting into your bottom lip as your anxious squirming turned to full-blown struggling. Yuuji only laughed, the noise airy and affectionate, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you that much closer to him – making it that much more impossible to get away. His free hand worked clumsily at your top; drawing it up and over your head. You fought against it at first, but froze the first time you felt something stretch a little too far, heard fabric tear. This couldn’t happen, but you absolutely couldn’t be stranded in Yuuji’s apartment with no clothes and no way out.

With his face buried in the back of your shoulder, he cupped your chest, catching your nipples between his forefinger and thumb and pinching with just enough force to draw a low, strained whimper from the back of your throat. “So cute…” He nuzzled deeper into your neck as his touch drifted. Your skirt was drawn downward – a long piece, something you’d thrown on without much thought – then discarded completely, his own shirt wrestled off in the same motion. You felt his fingertips slip under the hem of your panties, but he pulled away and straightened his back, instead. For a second, you let yourself believe that he’d come to his senses, that whatever sick idea he’d gotten into his head had finally worn off, but the arm wrapped around your waist only drew tighter, hauling you off of the floor and into his arms. You were dropped unceremoniously onto the edge of his bed, and Yuuji sunk onto his knees between your open legs.

“I know you’ve probably slept with other people – aside from my brother, I mean. It’d be nice to find out you haven’t, though.” His tone was distant and dreamy. He was still drunk, but not drunk enough for how he’d been acting earlier. Not drunk enough for what he was doing now. He traced the pad of his thumb over your clothed slit, keeping a hand curled around your ankle to keep you in place. “I used to hear you with Sukuna – in his car, and his room, on the couch after you two thought I’d fallen asleep …” He trailed off into an airy laugh. ���He likes to show off – always has. If he wasn’t my brother, I think I’d kill him.”

He sighed, pressing a lingering kiss into the inside of your thigh before shifting his attention to your pussy; his tongue laving over the thin material covering your cunt. You were crying, now, openly and audibly – your choked sobs almost loud enough to block out Yuuji’s quiet groans and pleased grunts. However his obsession might’ve made him think he felt about you, your distress didn’t seem to affect his appetite. Your panties were pulled down your legs and slid into some unseen pocket. With the last barrier between you and him gone, he was free to trace his tongue over your slit, to latch onto your clit and suck in a way that made you want to bury your face in your hands and scream. You tried to – crossing your arms over your face, but any sound you tried to make was quickly strangled into a broken moans as his tongue fucked shallowly into your pussy. It was invasive, disgusting, but your body didn’t care. You felt cunt clench around him as his nose ground into your clit, his need for air irrelevant while he spread you open with his tongue. Your thighs clenched shut, attempting to block him out, but his only response was a reverberating groan – and hand on your thigh encouraging you to squeeze him that much tighter.

You couldn’t tell which you hated more; the unwanted stimulation or the fact that your body was reacting to it, heating up where you needed it to go cold. As he sunk further into you, ate you out like a beast starved, you clenched your eyes and willed yourself to go numb, to ignore the sloppy sound of your slick on Yuuji’s lips. It was useless, though, as futile as trying to ignore him in the first place. Your back arched off the bed, legs twitching where they hung limply over his shoulders, and—

 —and Yuuji pulled away with a sharp gasp. He was on top of you before you could process that he was moving, his mouth crashing into yours before you could think to avoid him. The kiss was brutal, rushed; all teeth and tongue and lips shoved against yours with enough force to bruise. The only hint of tenderness was the soft, satisfied noise he let out as his tongue raked across yours, the bright grin painted across his lips when he drew back from you. “It’s alright.” He brought a hand to your cheek, cupping your face and brushing away tears with his thumb. “I’ve slept with other people too, ‘cause I knew I’d need a little practice to catch up with you. Could never go all the way, though. I just thought about you, and…” He blushed, simpered, like he thought he could pass himself off as the shy, lip-biting schoolboy with your slick coating his chin. “I guess I just didn’t really want anyone else to touch me. Not when I knew I’d see you again.”

A horrified sob bubbled up from somewhere deep and primal in your chest. Yuuji didn’t seem to hear it, only sighing as he pressed a lingering kiss into your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything,” he muttered, his hands falling to your waist. “I want to take care of you, tonight.”

You watched in stunned, paralyzed horror as he pushed himself to his feet, as he hastily worked off his jeans, his boxers (the dark material already notably stained with proof of his arousal). You made one more feeble attempt to squirm out from underneath him, to get away before his attention turned back to you, but confused and betrayed and so, so exhausted, you didn’t stand much of a chance against Yuuji. All he had to do was glance your way, his expression as warm as it was soulless, to leave you helpless against him.

He was eager enough not to reposition you, not to draw this out with the pretense of romance. With one hand on your hip and the other planted near your head, he lined the head of his cock up with your entrance and forced himself into you, bottoming out in a single thrust.

It was agony – pure and unrelenting. Any semblance of gentleness, of restraint fell away as soon as Yuuji was inside of you, as soon as your hyper-sensitive cunt clamped down around his cock. He cursed under his breath before collapsing, his chest pressing into yours as he tried to bury himself that much deeper inside of you, to chase the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth. As hard as you tried not to think about Sukuna, Yuuji hadn’t been lying when he said they were alike. He was just as insatiable as his brother had been any time you let him but his hands on you; just as rough in the way his hips ground into yours between sporadic thrusts. There’d been bruises, the next day. At least Sukuna had been the type to make sure he was gone by the time the damage set in. You doubted Yuuji would be so kind.

“I—I’m sorry,” he managed as he buckled into you. Panting against the dip of your shoulder, he took your hips in his hands and dragged your ass of the mattress, his brutal pace stuttering as he found a new angle to abuse. “Next time—I’ll be gentle next time, I just need to—”

His cock hit something soft and sensitive inside of you. Reflexively, your hands shot to his back, your nails finding skin and tearing. The moan Yuuji let out in response was nothing short of sinful; hitched and guttural, ragged and loud enough to block out the wet, slick sound of his cock pumping into your cunt. “M—” His hand wraps around your thigh, catching you under the knee and dragging it towards your chest, letting him fuck into you that much deeper, that much faster. His face never left the crook of your neck, as if he was afraid to give you space to breathe. “Mommy, ‘m sorry, I need to—”

His teeth sunk into your throat as something hot and thick flooded into your cunt, as your body went stiff and your vision burned white. While his climax was sudden, intense, the peak to a decade’s worth of patience, yours had to be dragged out of you despite your attempts to hold it back, to deny yourself pleasure in the vain hope that it’d somehow be able to convince Yuuji to stop what he’d already finished. It seemed to hold you there in that state of dark, distorted euphoria for minutes – Yuuji’s movements turning slow and languid as he nursed you through your orgasm.

Eventually, mercifully, he went still, going limp above you with his canines still planted in the curve of your neck. If there was any pain, any other unwanted burdens he could force onto you, you were too lost in your own despair to notice, too distant to feel anything other than the mildest tinge of dread as he pulled back, raising his head just far enough to stare down at you, adoration heavy in his eyes and his grin wide and love-struck.

A small, naïve part of you found the sight suffocatingly familiar, while the rest could almost convince itself that you were looking at a stranger.

[ravenslvt]

imagine best friend leon comforts you after a break up but it turns south 🤔🤔🤔😛, soft sex is what he gives you

☆ bsf! leon x female!reader ☆

bestfriend! leon comforting you after a break up

☆ content warnings: smut , mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating ☆

leon groans as he hears a knock at his door. the clock read 12:53am. who was coming over this late?

he stands up out of bed, not bothering to put a shirt on. he opens his front door, yawning.

all his annoyance completley dissipates when he sees you all teary eyed on his doorstep.

he says your name in concern, you just look up with the saddest look on your face. it sent a pang to his heart to see you like this.

he immediately figured it was your (asshole) boyfriend who was constantly flaking on you and (he assumed) was probably even cheating.

“sorry, i wasn’t sure if you were awake and i didn’t wanna call and-“ you start to ramble. he sighs, bringing you in to hug his bare chest. you didn’t mind, you’d seen him shirtless before. you’ve been bestfriends for almost four years.

“it’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.” he shushes you. he finally brings you into his messy apartment you’d been in countless times, but this time felt different.

“i just feel so fucking stupid. it was so obvious the whole time he was a dick i just was so delusional.” you’re on your second glass of wine now that leon had brought out for you two. he figured it would be nice to talk about your feelings and vent to him. you sit facing eachother on the couch in his living room.

you’d been with your (now) ex-boyfriend for only eight months. but leon always fucking hated the guy. he would always get mad when you would hangout with leon, thinking he had a crush on you or something, which he totally did.

you stopped crying now, you were just angry for wasting so much of your time with such a joke of a man. leon didn’t blame you. he let you rant.

“god, it didn’t help he fucking sucked at sex too. seriously he lasted like two pumps then knocked out. for EIGHT months!” you weren’t lying.

“you’re joking” he laughs, shifting in his seat on the couch. he never even bothered to put a shirt back on since you got here, still only in his baggy grey sweatpants.

“i’m serious. never made me cum once. he never even ate me out, said it was ‘too gross’ ” you scoffed, remembering how it was always about his pleasure and not yours. you felt leon’s eyes on you.

his eyes darkened.

his thoughts raced. that asshole never even ate you out? he’d kill to even touch you like that.

you noticed him go silent, one of his hands resting on his own thigh and the other arm was resting around the top of the couch.

“leon-“

“fuck that guy. seriously. any guy would be so lucky to even be allowed to be with you, to touch you.” leon’s voice is quieter than usual, but loud enough for you to hear. it felt like he was holding something back.

maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the supressed feelings for your bestfriend, but your eyes scanned him, suddenly consious of his shirtless state. how good his bare chest looked. how firm his muscled stomach was. how good his waist looked in those pants. his fucking arms.

and the way you could fully see the outline of his cock in his sweatpants.

your eyes shot back up to his face. only to see him staring at you.

“like… you?” you gulped, awaiting his response. you could see him thinking, practically hearing the gears turn in his head. he sighs your name, looking away.

“i-i can’t. not when your in this state.” he rubs his face with his hands. god his hands were big.

“leon i-“

“no, i like you way too fucking much to mess this up” he looks back at you, a genuine soft look in his eye.

you smile, he’s too sweet for his own good sometimes. you sit up straight, scooting closer to him.

“leon. i promise you, i want you.” you bring a gentle hand to cup his strong jaw.

his hands reach for your face, he uses one to brush a stray hair out of your face. he brings his forehead to yours.

“do you know how badly i want you? how long i’ve been waiting for you? you fucking kill me everyday i have to go without you.” he speaks lowly.

he leans in slowly, giving you a chance to pull away. but you don’t. your eyes flutter shut as your lips connect.

he starts the kiss out paced, allowing your lips to adjust to eachother. your hands go straight to his shoulders for support. you were afraid you’d fall over onto his carpeted floor.

“leon…” you panted his name between kisses, giving him an opportunity to greet his tounge in your mouth.

“what is it pretty girl?” he never pulled back as you two spoke, addicted to your lips.

“want you… need you, please” you practically whined into his mouth. he just smirked, giving you one last kiss before pulling away. you pouted for a second before he started to kiss down your neck slowly. exploring and biting until you showed him your sweet spot.

he bit your pulse point, making you softly yelp.

your hand automatically goes to the waistband of his sweats, but he stops you, swatting your hand.

“no, this is about you. ignore me” he warns.

“but-“ you pout

“no.” he sternly says, pushing you so your back was against the couch cushion, he was now on his knees between your thighs. you were going to argue, but seeing him like this brought no complaint from you. you were never used to this. but god were you excited.

he teasingly removes your shorts, leaving kisses in their wake. you gasped from the feeling, being left in your black panties. they had a little rose at the top center, making him smile.

“cute” his thumb goes over the rose, then moves over your clothed clit. you softly gasp and your hips automatically buck up to meet his touch.

he scrunches your shirt up, kissing your pelvis, then your stomach, and pushing your bra up to bring a nipple into his mouth. you squirm under him, already so needy for him. he pulls away with a pop.

he slowly reaches his hand into your already soaked panties, a look of suprise on his face.

“this all for me?” he nudged your sensitive clit with his knuckle. you suck in a breath, nodding.

he chuckles, using his free hand to pull your panties down while he continues rubbing your clit, rolling it between his fingers.

once they’re off, he stares down at your bare pussy, absolutely entranced.

“s-sorry. he only liked it when i was shaved” you looked away from him, a bit self conscious. you try clamping your thighs together.

he scoffs “what a fucking weirdo” he says before forcing your thighs to stay open with his strength. you always forgot how strong he was since he was always so gentle around you.

he moves his head to hover over your needy cunt, your thighs now around his shoulders. he looks up at you “is this ok?”

you nod.

“yes” you say. he moves in an instant, his hot mouth devouring you.

“fuck, leon!” you moan, covering your mouth with your hand. the other one gripped his dirty blonde hair.

his lustful eyes look up at you as his tounge works expertly against you. he studied your reactions, repeating the actions that made you squirm the most.

your thighs squeezed against his head, but he didn’t mind. he fucking loved that he was making you feel like this. his dick was raging in his pants, but he ignored it. tonight was about you. he’d make it about you everynight if he could.

he thrusted his long tounge into your hole, pumping it as he circled your clit with his nose. you almost screamed, his grip on your thighs getting tighter by the second. he shakes his head in a motion, teetering your orgasm.

you started to shake, almost drowning him in your wetness.

“i think i’m gonna-“ your thighs were so tight around him he swore you were crushing his skull. he quickens his mouth, the most pornographic noises coming from your pussy.

you let out the most delectable moans as you cum all over his face. he keeps licking and sucking until your shaking stops and you’re just panting, trying to push him off from overstimulation.

“s’too much” you pant, grabbing at leons hair. he finally pulls away, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. your face was completley flushed and eyes lidded. he smiled, leaning in to kiss you. you moan as soon as you taste yourself on his tounge. (your ex was wrong, you tasted fucking great)

you feel his hard buldge against your thigh, your brows furrow and a heat fills your gut. you reach out your hand to rub him through his pants. he lets out a needy groan, rutting into your hand. a wet patch growing in the front of the grey sweats.

“f-fuck. keep doing that and i’ll have to keep going, baby” he warns, but you didn’t stop. you keep eye contact as you rub the head of his cock through his sweats, the fabric adding extra stimulation. it twitched in your hand and he grabbed your wrisy, stopping you, though he didn’t want you to stop.

“i don’t wanna take advantage-“ he starts, but you cut him off before he can finish, rolling your eyes.

“leon stop. do you know how many dreams i’ve had of you fucking me? we’ve already gotten this far, so if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna walk out that door and-“ this time he cuts you off with a kiss, you smile into the kiss. you feel him smile back.

after a minute or two of sweet kissing, the moment gets heavy again. the kiss gets deeper and more messy.

you couldn’t help it, you slide his loose sweatpants off his figure and have to look down.

oh fuck. he was big.

he noticed your eyes widen and cheeks flush, his ego inflating a little.

“that’s not gonna fit, leon” you look back up at him, absolutely in awe of the man’s gorgeous cock. the tip was a raging pink color, it was curved upward like it was begging to be touched. precum sparkling at the edges.

he chuckles, kissing you on the cheek.

“oh yes it will”

he sits back up on his knees, dragging your legs twords him and grabbing one of the pillows from the couch, patting your hip to tell you to lift it so he can slide it under.

he gives himself a few more pumps, even spitting on his cock for extra lubricant, though you were already so wet he could probably slide in easily.

he lines himself up, looking up at you for one last chance for you to back away, but you just shimmy your hips to try and get him to put it in already. he takes that as a sign and slowly slides in.

you tense up as soon as the tip is in. he leans down, giving you a peck on the lips before rubbing your hips.

“relax, pretty” he sooths. a few more seconds and hes sinking in a little more, little by little he brings himself to a point where he can’t push in anymore. he was balls deep in your sopping pussy.

he waited a few moments until you were moving your own hips for some more stimulation.

“there you go, look at you.” he teases, pulling out almost all the way, only leaving his raging tip in before thrusting it back in. your back arched off the couch and he gripped your hips tigher. you felt heavenly.

all you could think about was how good his big cock felt inside of you. gently slamming in and out and in and out and in and out.

“more” you plead, looking down to where you two meet, there was a noticable buldge indented in your stomach from where his cock was in you, making you whine.

“of course” he whispers, leaning down to cage you in his elbows, throwing the pillow from under you somewhere across the room and instead using his strength to slam into you. your arms held him around his neck, one pulling at his hair unconsciously. your legs wrapped around his hips, encouraging him to go faster.

you’re both panting as you lean up to kiss him again. it wasn’t anything like your first kiss with him. it was all tounge and saliva and mess. but it was perfect for the moment.

you could feel him so deep, it felt like he was growing even bigger inside of you. you felt a familiar build up in your belly, the need of release. you pull away from the kiss to breathe. he lowers his head to suck your tits in his mouth, alternating between them and occasionally biting them gently.

“leonnn!” you moaned his name over and over as his pace got faster and faster.

he was holding back his own orgasm just so he could feel you clench around him.

“fuck, i wanted this for so fucking long, baby. you’re so-fuck- so perfect.” leon was losing his composure more and more by every thrust inside of you. your walls started to clench around him, making his face scrunch up.

you came around him, squeezing him, your nails dragging down his strong arms, leaving redish pink marks in their wake.

he just chanted your name mixed with compliments-how perfect you are around him, how pretty you are, how you were made for him.

“w-where can i-“

“inside, leon, please!” you whine, all you can think of is his cock dragging in and out of you.

he spills inside you with a groan, hips sputtering. he lays on top of you, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you.

“s-shit are you…?” the realization hits him that he just came inside you.

“i’m on the pill” you assure, softly smile at him, both of you breathing heavily at this point.

he smiles back, kissing you and slowly pulling out, making you whine, he tucks himself back into his sweatpants, an obvious stain on the front of his pants.

he gently pulls your shirt back over your tits, but not before giving them a soft kiss each. you giggle at him.

“are you feeling ok? do you need anything?” he asks, stroking your head and fixing your loose hairs. acting like he wasn’t just fucking your brains out.

you nod, giving him another peck on the lips, this time he pouts when you pull away.

safe to say, you were over your ex.

a/n: raven try to write soft smut challenge: impossible. lowkey got carried away but i hope u like it!!

thank u for the request i lovedddd writing this mwuah <3

[washeduphazbin]

Adam NSFW Alphabet

Here ya go, ya filthy simps.

First time doing a nsfw alphabet so if it’s … bad I’m sorry. Lmk how to improve tho

--Minors DNI--

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

At the beginning of the relationship, I don't think this man knew what aftercare was; I mean, there's a reason Lilith left him. Let's be honest. It would take a learning curve and a lot of explaining from you about your needs after sex until he'd realize how important it really was.

Once he got the idea down, he'd be religious with it every time after sex, he'd ask, "What the fuck you needed to feel extra sexy."

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

What isn't his favorite body part? Toss up between Boobs, Ass, and Thighs, he loves them all. If you held a gun to his head, he'd say your boobs, big or small, he would NOT CARE. He wants them in his mouth.

Small boobie queens, he'd squeeze them like little stress balls when he's annoyed or anxious.

Big boobie queens, pillows. Need I say more. Calls them bazoingas unironically.

Type of guy to stand next to you talking to Lute and reach out and just squeeze your tits, letting out a HONK. Lute would roll her eyes with a snicker as you flushed, while Adam would look at you with the biggest shit-eating grin.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This guy's cum is thick. milky and warm.

Beads at the tip when you turn him on and likes to cum deep inside you, filling you entirely or on your tits or ass.

Will stare hotly as both your cum spills out of you, as you whimper and whine, usually making him ready for round two.

When you suck him off, he enjoys watching it spill from your lips instead of you swallowing.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Adam has one main secret (idk if it qualifies as dirty) but enjoys genuine praise for things he feels proud of accomplishing. It's not like you praising him for exterminating sinners; it's just simple, innocent praise when he does something particularly sweet for you.

A big softie, but only in private and only to you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's a fuckboy. Sorry, not sorry, he just is. HOWEVER, it doesn't mean he is a star at sex. He's decent at first, but there's a reason Lucifer stole two of his wives. His biggest gripe was he didn't want to reciprocate head, but you broke him off that relatively quick when you squeezed your thighs around his skull for the first time, practically double-killing him.

It was fuckin' hot.

You both have a lot to learn, but you learn together, and the sex is still angelic.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has two:

He enjoys cowboy/girl because he's lazy and likes to watch your tits bounce in front of his face.

He also enjoys doggy style, so he can see your ass bounce as he pounds into you, biting your ass cheeks as he goes and slapping.

G = Goofy (are they more severe in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Goofy. He does not shut his mouth; he always has something to say as he's getting intimate with you. It's safe to say he never stops talking, which means he's very vocal about moans, whines, and grunts. It's safe to say he has no filter regarding you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Pretty basic, but the carpet matches the drapes. However, he could be better- groomed. It's safe to say he's definitely hairy, not just there but all over.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Although Adam is definitely more goofy, as discussed earlier, I think sex is intimate and essential to him. While he can be silly, he works his ass and dick off to make sure it's the best sex you've ever had. Oddly enough, when he's alone with you and in a soft mood, he always romantically initiates sex.

Slow and sensual kisses lead to heated make-outs and biting before turning into more.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I think Adam is on the more hypersexual side of the spectrum if you see sex as a spectrum like I tend to. So, if you're not around for some reason, he will probably be cranking one out sometimes more than once a day. Honestly, even if you are around and you're not feeling sex at the moment, he'll pout, but ultimately, go watch whatever heavens' equivalent to porn.

(or videos he's recorded of the two of you ;) )

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think Adam would have three main kinks:

Breeding - "All of humanity came from this dick."

Mommy Kink - need I explain more? Dominant women are such a significant turn-on for him; one look when you're in Dommy Mommy mode, and he's on his knees.

Role-Play- If you don't think he'd make you cosplay and act like Sinner who is trying to redeem themselves just for him to role play fucking redemption into you, your opinion is just incorrect. Sorry.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere and Everywhere. He doesn't care; if people see good let them know you're both hot as fuck. They're probably green with envy.

His favorite place, though, is on his desk in his office. The thrill of getting caught lights a fire in him that can't be snuffed out without burying himself in your cunt.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I feel like we discussed this one a lot, but I can add a few more. When you're mad at something Hell did or another resident of Heaven. Also, when defending him, think of the "He asked for no pickles" meme, but it's you asking for Adam.

Oh, and of course, you are in any type of lingerie, punk rock, or revealing clothing.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Piss, Poop, ya know the classics. He'd also never want to seriously hurt you, maybe a light slap here and there, maybe a little choking, but if he ever hurts you in the act, he's flaccid so quick and on you like a mother hen.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As stated earlier, his preference is receiving; he loves the way you look between his thighs and his thick cock in your mouth. Drool and pre-cum leaking from your lips.

But he has gotten more open to giving and isn't...great, but you're teaching him how to work his tongue and fingers.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He sets a fast and rough pace, hits you deep in your canal, and kisses your cervix, almost like he's trying to hit your womb. He's a feral beast honestly once he starts fucking you and it'd take an act of God to get him to stop.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

All the time though not super preferred, He likes to tease you as much as he can before letting you cum, but most of the time you have sex, it's out of the house. It's a constant struggle to keep your hands off one another and, more often than not, sneak off for a quick fuck somewhere before rejoining a meeting, hangout or if Adam needs immediate stress relief.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

So long as it's not on his list of hard no's, I feel like Adam will try anything once if you ask. He's for sure a risk taker and wants you to challenge him with something new, but in the end prefers classic sex.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He can last only two rounds, but they usually last. A very long time because he likes to be a little shit.

T = Toys (do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?)

He does not own toys, and if you have them and use them, he will absolutely be jealous of them and attempt to make you trash them. But if you say no, he'll respect it. Just be extremely salty.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he's a brat. It is so unfair that it will test you pretty much through the entire process. He enjoys seeing how much he can overstimulate and edge you before he finally fucks you raw.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So fucking loud. God bless your neighbors if you have any. His groans and moans could shake the entire house, and your whines, whimpers, and pleas for 'harder' aren't any better.

He also laughs a lot.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think he loves to mark you up to prove to everyone that you are his and his alone. I think it would start with a shit ton of hickies, then a joke from Lute saying he should just collar you until he actually does. It's classy and elegant, matches his angelic robes, and has spikes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

So I absolutely headcanon him with a dad bod (sorry, not sorry); I think he also has significant arm and chest hair and a particularly drool-worthy happy trail. He's squishy and you love it even though he can be a little insecure about it at times, you just tell him you love him no matter his shape or size.

He is your Teddy Bear.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HYPERSEXUAL. HIGH. THIS MAN WANTS SOME FUCK.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Passes out quickly afterward and can't go more than two rounds max. Likes to sleep right after but has learned to check on you first before passing out on your tits or chest.

[strangesem]

hobie brown x shy/quiet!reader headcanons

spider-punk x reader this is not a drill

long as hell I’m so sorry

a/n: reader is mentioned as being a mom friend but imo that can be gender neutral so this can still be read by anyone!! if that makes you uncomfortable though please skip this post :)

I also imagine hobie as being 19-ish so it’s kinda implied reader lives alone but can def be read as younger!!

most people didn’t notice you at first.

you were quiet; really quiet. you’d mumble your thank you’s, whisper apologies, and generally go out of your way not to interact with people as a whole.

I feel like that gentleness/softness would almost draw hobie to you though?

he’d definitely first meet you as spider-man; saving you from some sort of robber or attacker. and then he’d see you be so shy about thanking him and apologizing as if it was your fault??? he finds it sweet but also kinda concerning for you tbh

and over time he begins to notice you more and more during his patrols; something about you just draws him in.

he definitely likes that you don’t try to tell him or others what to do lol

after talking to you enough as spider-man, and you start to open up, he begins to like you even more

you listen to some of the music he likes? your humour?? not to mention how genuine you are???

(also very useful if you happen to be a “mom friend” type who keeps first aid, candy, etc on you at all times!! he’d definitely appreciate a lollipop to help with the pressure changes while swinging around or a bandage for his cuts)

speaking of which if you ARE the type to have those things on you he may start seeking you out if/when he gets hurt

and after that even when he’s not tbh he’ll just pretend to have a headache and eat some of your candy on your couch lmao-

one time though he comes with wounds a little too serious looking for the standard wet cloth and bandaid treatment you had been used to; and it scares you

you raise your voice a bit louder than he’d ever heard, in a scared tone that was different than your normal anxious voice, and you tell him he should probably definitely go to a hospital

“but I like you so much better” he leans in a little too close, holding on to you a little too tight to keep himself steady, and you suddenly realize the reality of you situation

spider-man is in your living room. he’s bleeding a lot. and you’re the first person he thought to come to; because he likes you? not like that obviously- unless it is like that? NO. people barely even notice you, no one would ever feel like that type of thing for-

“you’re staring” you can feel the shit eating grin on his face; it’s practically burning through his mask

you stutter out an apology and after stammering around for a moment you get him to sit down and do your best to treat his injuries

you can tell the disinfectant stings by the way he flinches whenever you apply it, as well as his teasing that he “thought you were supposed to be nicer than the nurses” but he does his best to sit still and let you dress all of his wounds

you both remain still for a moment, and you think you can feel his eyes on you but you’re too scared to look up. your hands are shaking; they have been this whole time.

“that’s everywhere right? I didn’t miss something?”

he takes off his mask to look you in the eye and tell you he’s okay but you’re just like ????

:O

ANYWAYS you are once again staring bc you now know spider-man’s identity???

I feel like he’s gently hold your face and just give you a quick peck to make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries

but if you kiss him back? he’s NEVER stopping

he’ll start randomly crawling through your window with excuses of missing you or wanting to show you something

and soon he’s staying the night at your place or he’s swinging you over to his so you can stay with him

I think dates would definitely be super chill and more like hanging out at each others places than anything else

but if he does a show for his music he’d definitely want you there!!

he’d also probably pick you up and start swinging around the city with no warning just for the way you’ll grab on to him so tightly-

but ofc is you asked him not to he’d stop immediately!

doesn’t get super jealous or anything, he’s a pretty chill guy, but he will get sorta bothered if someone’s aggressively pursuing you even after knowing you two are together

like if someone doesn’t know and flirts with you he’s just like “yeah I’m lucky”

but if someone ever went so far to imply you should be unfaithful and/or should leave him he’d probably tell them to back off and either leave with you or put his arm around your shoulder and glare at them until they leave

either way he’s not starting any fights or anything though; he’s super comfortable in your relationship and hopes you are too

genuinely thinks you’re the most beautiful/handsome person ever like he WILL flex to the other spider-people if relationships come up

he’s really not in to pda though; he’ll put his arm around your shoulders/waist but that’s it. maybe hand holding depending on the situation.

but when you guys are alone he likes physical touch; don’t expect to be on top of each other or anything but having your/his head rested on the others lap or him just resting his hand on your leg is pretty common

he’s also not very big into gifts (he doesn’t buy into the capitalist need for abundance and all that) but he does like giving you jewellery/other wearable items bc he likes to see a reminder of himself/your relationship on you

pls make him a bracelet or something he’ll literally never take it off (also jewellery for any of his piercings is fair game)

he values small intimate things in a relationship; like painting each others nails, listening to each other rant about things you’re passionate about, etc

overall he may not be big and showy but he’s an amazing boyfriend and would love you like a lot

he’d also definitely write songs about/for you bc you’re so important to him and he wants the whole world to know that :((

I haven’t written fanfiction in forever but if anyone has any hobie requests I could write as headcanons I’m open to them!! :)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

you’re an angel, i’m a dog ; satoru gojo

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, dripping with exhaustion, a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated — from satoru, this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth cherishing, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything that’s good, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance within your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back. 

so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

[cyborg-franky]

Their reaction when you give them your number

Some headcanons!

SFW GN Reader Chars: Ace, Robin, Marco, Kid, Killer, Buggy

Ace

He’s been flirting back and forth with you the entire time you’ve been working. He came in for his brother's friend's birthday but has spent more time talking to you and honestly? You didn’t mind. He was cute, funny, and very sweet. His flirting was a little awkward at times, you guessed as handsome as he was he had some self-esteem issues. But the more you talked with Ace the more his confidence grew.

It was late and pretty quiet, he chatted to you about his brothers as he leaned on the bar, you cleaned and got ready to close, just enjoying his voice, and how genuinely caring he seemed. It was then you grabbed a piece of paper, wrote your number on it, and slid it across the bar.

“What’s that? How much of a tab did me and those idiots wrack up…” He hummed and flipped the paper over, his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up when he saw the number. You couldn't help the sly smile on your face when you could see the blush on his cheeks, even in the low light of the bar.

You sure hoped he’d call. He chuckled and put it in his pocket, trying to act cool about it even with his cheeks on fire.

Robin

She had to have been the most beautiful woman to have ever set foot in your store. The way she walked around in her summer dress, the fabric flowy in the breeze, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear as she picked up a huge heavy book, her eyes scanning each with a smile on her lips.

You felt entranced and intimidated by her in equal measure. Each movement was poised and elegant. She glanced over her shoulder and saw you staring at her, the sparkle of mischief in her eyes reached the sly smirk. 

Grabbing an arm full of books so big you could murder a man with she set them down on the counter and you had to try and remember how to talk again. “Is it okay if I buy a coffee and read one of these?” You nodded, she could have robbed you and you would have thanked her.

As she paid for her books you quickly wrote your number on a note and slipped it in one of the books as you placed it in a bag for her. She bought her coffee and books and sat down on one of the big armchairs. You gripped the edge of the counter when you noticed she went right for the book you’d put your number in.

Robin saw the piece of paper and shot you the most wickedly sinful smile you felt your heart would explode.

Marco

He came into your work at least once a week, maybe more, and his order was always the same. He was a creature of habit but never boring. You always stood and chatted with him between his order and bringing it to him. He was polite and handsome and always had this lazy smile on his face that you found yourself looking forward to seeing.

Marco always had a kind word for you, would comment on your hair, how you wore it that day, how your new shirt was nice and suited you. He was full of compliments but he never came across as creepy. You adored his voice, his laugh, and how he always had a crazy story about his friends.

You felt like you knew them. 

One night he came in with some of those said friends, a rowdy bunch but just like him, polite and chatty. You set down the tray of drinks and Marco leaned back in his seat taking his. “They make the best drinks, it’s why I come back all the time,” Marco said before sipping his drink.

“Yeah, right, that's the only reason.” Thatch teased and got a nudge. You didn’t know what the man meant by that but Marco met your eye and gave you a sheepish smile.

The group all started to leave and the man with the big hair, Thatch, came over to pay the bill. “Hey, I think you and Marco might have a sweet spot for one another, sorry if I’m misreading that but… maybe you could give me your number, to pass on?”

You blinked, processing what he was asking before grabbing a coaster and writing it on. Thatch paid and practically ran to Marco and brandished the coaster at him. “Got you a present!” Marco looked at it, then back at you. You watched as the smirk on his face grew and he placed it in his pocket.

Kidd

His entire group was loud but you didn’t mind. You were used to his sort coming to this bar, parking their motorbikes outside, and stomping into the bar with their heavy boots and loud voices. They’d been polite enough to you though.

Serving them rounds of beers when they raised their hands, always paying. You knew this group pretty well by now. The red-haired man who was the leader spoke with you casually. He leaned on the bar and laughed at jokes and comments yelled over the room at him.

“Got anything fun planned this weekend?” You asked as you handed him another beer, he took a swig before thanking you. You could see him thinking over your question, you always had a feeling he and his gang got up to all sorts. Maybe he was debating on what he could tell you.

“Nah, unless you wanna finally fess up to being into me an’ wanna hang.” He said, the smirk on his painted lips, showing his teeth. He was cocky and overconfident but God daaamn did it work.

“What makes you think I’m into you?” You asked, well, he was right but still.

“Babe, I just know, so gunna give me your number or do I have to beg?” Kidd asked with a gleam in his eyes. You loved feeling you had all the power in this situation. You met his eye before ripping off a piece of a poster hanging up behind you and putting your number on.

“You don’t have to beg, this time.” You chuckled and handed it to him. He laughed loudly and put it in his jacket pocket, looking smug.

He’d won.

Killer

Killer came into your shop every other week, always for something for his bike. It could be a check-up, a new decal, a sticker or just to get someone to clean it. He was a man of few words but he was pleasant to be around. His small talk was never dull or seemed forced, he enjoyed hearing your stories and learning about you.

Sometimes you even got to hear his voice, get to learn about his life; How he was part of a group who drove around together. You were very intrigued by him. The way he’d take off his helmet and all that blonde hair would come tumbling out, you could have sworn the world become slow motion whenever he did that.

He was gorgeous. 

“Going for a drive this weekend?” You asked when he set down his helmet, one of the mechanics working on his bike already. He shook his head “Just thought I heard something when I’d started her,” he said and stared across the room.

Killer didn’t leave, didn’t go for a walk, instead while his bike was being checked he simply stood and talked to you. It was nice, he was a good guy. The mechanic came in and handed you the paperwork. You looked it over.

“Good news! The small issue has been fixed and since your in here all the time we won’t charge the normal rate,” your heart was beating when you sneakily wrote your number on the paper and handed it to him. 

He said his goodbyes and walked away, reading over the paper before he noticed the number, he turned and looked at you. Wordlessly, effortlessly cool he just gave you the thumbs up and grinned.

Buggy

He was a strange guy, how he seemed to think he was so slick every time he came in. Acting like this wasn’t the 18th time he’d been in this week. He was strange, sure, but he was cute and no one had made you laugh so much. Sometimes you didn’t think he meant to be funny on purpose, his charm was just a silly guy.

But as goofy as he came across he was still unreasonably handsome and had his own brand of charisma that had you so taken with him. He came in on his way back from work and asked for his regular order, which you knew by heart now. 

He would go on about his day, complaining about someone called Shanks that he worked with. The way he told his stories was so over the top and so hilarious that you couldn’t help but stand there chuckling and hanging on to his every word.

“So yeah, that dickhead set me back like 20 minutes.” He mumbled and sipped his shake, eating a few fries “Well, hopefully, your weekend will be better.” you said as you refilled the napkin holder.

“I’ll still be in though, I gotta get my fix.” He said and held up his drink, you weren’t sure if that was all he meant either. “Oh no, I won’t be in, I have the day off.”

He seemed crestfallen at that news, deflating in his seat with a frown. “Ah..” he mumbled as he stuffed more fries into his mouth. “But maybe we can arrange something?” you pulled out a napkin and wrote down your number, setting it next to him.

Buggy had been drinking at that moment, he stared at your number and snorted, his shake and the straw shooting to the back of his throat, causing him to splutter, some of his drink coming out of his nose as he became a flustered mess.

You laughed and watched him grab at handfuls of napkin to clean himself, wheezing as he did so, trying and failing to calm himself down, he croaked out “Sounds great…”

[the0doreslover]

My friend | theo nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: short sorry, fluff, poor baby enzo

summary: this amazing ask right here

"Mr. Berkshire and Miss L/n," Professor Flitwick's voice echoed through the Charms classroom. You halted your quill's progress on your parchment and turned your attention toward the back, where Lorenzo Berkshire sat engaged in conversation with Theodore Nott.

"Good luck," Hermione snickered

"Yeah, thanks, Mione," you sighed, observing Lorenzo, who seemed content to stay put. With a sigh, you gathered your belongings and maneuvered your way over to him.

"Look, she's obedient, Enzo," Theodore laughed, shooting you a sly look.

"Very funny. Let's just get this over with, yeah?" you retorted.

That was three weeks ago. In the time that followed, your friendship with Lorenzo deepened into something unexpected. Together, you not only successfully completed the assigned project, earning an impressive grade, but Lorenzo had also become a helpful study companion for your upcoming potions assignment. His willingness to help and his genuine sweetness had endeared him to you, turning him into more than just a classmate.

As the days turned into weeks, your friendship continued to flourish. Studying together became a ritual, and the laughter you shared transcended the walls of Hogwarts. Yet, amidst this newfound friendship, there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn't ignore

Theodore Nott's grumpy demeanor. God It was as if he wanted to murder you

He saw you with enzo? his eyes rolled

Enzo wanted you to eat with them? His eyes rolled

You wanted to study with enzo? His eyes rolled

You had made a joke to enzo that one day that his eyes are going to get stuck there, but unfortunately for you he had come to give enzo his study book and heard you, but what did he do? he rolled his eyes.

To be fair to him, you weren’t any better

Enzo had to go practise with theodore? you’d sigh

Enzo wanted theodore to study with you? you’d sigh

Enzo had to go back to his dorm to see theo? you’d sigh

Poor enzo couldn’t keep up with you both, he felt like he was going mad. So what did he do? He went to blaise.

“Wow that’s alot man” blaise nodded before getting a whack from pansy.

“No enzo listen to me, they both just need to get to know each other, the only thing they think they ahve in common is you, so if we remove you maybe they’ll find something they actually like about each other” pansy explained

“Or maybe they just both have serious crushes on each other” draco piped in finally lifting his head from his book.

“go back to your book draco”

Enzo had told you to meet him in his dorm to study, which you found a bit weird but then again, enzos a weird guy. you knocked once but he didn’t answer, so you knocked again a bit louder.

“Finally you took your tim- oh it’s you” theodore nott stood infront of you his eyes raking up and down your body.

you pushed past him “where’s enzo?”

“No you’ve got it wrong princess, i’m hanging out with enzo today” he walked closer to you

“No theodore, he told me to meet him here”

he was just about to say something when you both heard the door latch shut

“You’re not coming out until you become friends, i can’t take this anymore”

“Enzo!” you shouted through the door “Enzo please open the door”

“When you become friends!”

you pressed your ear against the door and heard a few other voices

“enzo this is not what i meant at all”

“how do i get into my room?”

“This is your fault princess” you turned around and saw theodore on his bed watching you

“my fault? maybe if you didn’t make me feel like you’ve hated me this wouldn’t of happened”

Theodore was caught off guard by your response "Maybe if you weren't always stealing Enzo's attention, he could've been here to hang out with me."

His words hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension between you two. You were definitely not expecting such a direct accusation. Theodore, on the other hand, immediately regretted his choice of words as he saw the impact they had on you.

Before you could respond, he sighed and muttered, "I didn't mean it like that."

Fed up, you sighed. “what’s your deal? We can’t keep up like this, for enzo, the poor guy looks like he’s aging for gods sake.”

He hesitated, before choosing to stay silent

Your eyes narrowed. “maybe if you weren’t such a sour git, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Theodore shot you a glare“Maybe if you weren’t always acting like you own the place, we wouldn’t have a problem.”

The argument escalated, each insult flying like sparks from a misfiring spell. The dorm now echoed with your bickering. It was like a full-on wizard duel, but with words instead of wands.

“Merlin’s beard, Theo, can’t you just chill for once?” you snapped.

“Chill? Maybe you should lower your ego!” Theodore shot back.

“me lower my ego! theodore you’re a teenager acting like a toddler

The back-and-forth continued, like a never-ending Quidditch match of insults. But then, in the midst of the verbal chaos, something shifted. There was a moment, a beat where you both just stopped, realizing how ridiculous the argument had become.

Theodore sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is stupid. Why are we even fighting?”

You rolled your eyes. “Beats me, Theo. Maybe you just enjoy being a prat.”

He smirked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “And maybe you just enjoy being a know-it-all.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, the tension dissipating like a deflating balloon. Then, in a twist of events, Theodore did something unexpected. He closed the distance between you, and before you could react, his lips crashed into yours.

It was like a jinx had hit you, leaving you momentarily stunned. The argument was forgotten as he brung you impossibly closer to him

And when he pulled away, there was a smirk on his face. “Well, that shut you up.”

You blinked, still processing what just happened. “What the hell, Theo?”

He chuckled, the tension between you replaced by an awkward sort of understanding. “I figured we needed a different kind of distraction.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re mental, you know that?”

Theodore grinned. “Maybe. But at least we’re not fighting anymore.”

“Hm, i guess your right”

“is it safe to come in now!” enzo shouted wailed

“No enzo she just stabbed me in the gut”

you watched as the door slowly opened and enzo came in along with blaise pansy and draco.

“can i just say that i was right?” draco smirked taking a bite of his apple

[saddestsquid]

Hopeless Romantic! König <3

Summary: Hopeless Romantic König who meets you at a park and finds love at first sight to be true. You two enjoy a cute date until he takes you home and gives you one last treat ;)

Words: 2342

Warnings: 18+, overstim, König eats F!Reader out, fingering, fluff to smut, praise, cute romance, squirting, certified munch König !!

He feels like an idiot standing there in the scenic park, awkwardly holding a bouquet of fresh pink roses. He’d picked them out specially for her, and took the time to sprinkle glitter onto the beautiful petals, but it was all for nothing. All his effort went to waste as the poor guy got stood up.

Wallowing in his own shame, he barely noticed someone yelling in the distance until it got closer. He finally snapped out of his trance to see a dog running straight at him. He bent down and stopped the panting golden retriever, caught off guard but smiling and petting it.

“Rover! Oh thank gosh…” He thought it might be the angels themselves speaking when he heard that voice, but he looked up to see nothing but a beautiful woman with a relieved expression. Looking at her closely, he figured perhaps he was looking at an angel.

“Thank you for stopping him, he just runs straight off whenever I let him off leash.” You apologized breathlessly.

König smiled, and found himself forgetting the failed date entirely as he got lost in your eyes. “It’s not a problem, he’s quite adorable.” He responded, and he noticed your eyes widen the tiniest bit at his unfamiliar accent.

“C’mere Rovey,” You cooed, and König’s heart pounded in his chest. The dog trotted straight into your arms and sat still while you hooked the leash back onto his collar. Gosh, what König would give for your sweet voice to be directed onto him like that. 

König stood up and you followed suit after making sure your pooch’s collar was secure, and he didn’t miss the way your jaw dropped when you noticed his towering height. Seriously, what are they feeding this man??

You blushed and suddenly felt shy in the presence of this not only polite but incredibly tall man. He was handsome too, with alluring blue eyes that stared at you with such intensity you had to look away. 

Only then did you notice the fallen bouquet.

“Oh! Is this yours? I’m so sorry, did Rover knock it out of your hands-“ you apologized profusely and picked the shimmering bouquet up, handing it back to him. He didn’t give a flying fuck about the fact it fell on the ground tho, he didn’t even notice since he’d been so focused on staring at you.

He shook his head and didn’t bother taking it out of your hands. “No no, no worries. I uhm…I don’t even need it anymore anyways, my date didn’t show up.” He admited with a sigh.

He regretted telling you the moment your expression turned upset. “That’s horrible, I’m sorry.” You muttered sadly, and he felt the desperate need to make you smile again.  “Well this is beautifully made, too bad I couldn’t have been your date.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood but being completely honest.

He stared down at you and blushed as well, “You don’t mean that.” He denied.

“but I do! I would give anything for someone to put this much effort into something just for me.” You admitted, smiling up at him and giggling until you noticed his expression seemed serious.

“Anyone who hasn’t already is a mad man.” He said with a genuine smile, and took the bouquet out of your hands only to offer it back to you. “Little—Rover, was it?—seems to want to explore the park. So, why don’t we all go for a stroll Ja? Rover, me, and…..” He trailed off, so you told him your name.

“And you are?”

“König.” He announced, his addicting accent shining through when he said it.

“Well König…..I don’t see why not.” You accepted his offer and the flowers with a gentle smile that he found himself wanting to see for the rest of his life.

His awful day just got a whole lot better. 

You both spent the day walking around the lovely park, with you having to take twice as many steps just to catch up, which only proved to make him cackle. You admired the ponds and threw sticks for Rover, trusting that König and his long legs could catch up to the hound if he ran too far. He told you about how Austrians typically love to walk everywhere, and you followed up with about a hundred questions about his home country. You even got ice cream, which gave König all types of thoughts when he watched you wipe off the dripping white cream from your lips. He assumed you didn’t notice his stare and flushed cheeks, but you definitely did. Not so much of a gentleman now, hm?

Finally, when it was dark and the park became quiet you both decided to head home. When exchanging numbers you mentioned how you had to walk back to your house since you walked here with your pup earlier in the day for exercise, and König was not having any of that.

“Nein, it’s much too dangerous at night.” he shook his head, leaving no room for argument. “I will give you and your golden a ride home, it’s not a problem.” 

“Really König, it’s okay. I don’t want Rovers hair getting all over your seats.” You whined.

“And I don’t want you getting kidnapped off the side of the street Maus, which sounds worse to you?” He asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

You tried to argue but came up with nothing and sighed in defeat. “Fine, I’ll let you be annoyingly nice….” You pouted, and he laughed while opening the door for Rover to jump in the back—probably a sign you need a more protective dog if he didn’t even hesitate going in somewhere unfamiliar—and the passenger door for you. 

You gave him directions like his own little passenger princess, looking tiny in the truck that must’ve been specially made to fit someone as giant as him. You dreaded the moment when he pulled into your driveway meaning you two had to part. You’d only met him a few hours ago, yet it felt like you’ve known him for years.

“Have a good night, liebling.” He got out to help you let Rover out and walk you to your door, but before he could turn around to head back to his truck you stopped him. “Actually, would you like to come in?” You offered, setting down the flowers on your counter and smiling suggestively.

He turned beet red like he did at the ice cream stand, but nodded quickly. You giggled and grabbed his hand to drag him inside, pressing your lips together as soon as the front door was closed and Rover was sleeping further away in the middle of the kitchen floor. (Don’t get nasty infront of your pets guys!! They can get scarred for life too ok 😣)

“Jump.” He ordered, and you did as he said and leaped into the air. He caught you with ease, hands grabbing onto the back of your thighs and squeezing the soft flesh. 

He stumbled around for a moment, overly  caught up in your make out session but eventually finding your bedroom. He dropped you flat on your back on the bed, kissing at your neck and seeing which spots got the biggest reactions out of you to start sucking hickeys into.

You moaned and writhed, begging him to do something, and like the gentleman he is, he decided to help you out and tugged down your bottoms, rubbing circles onto your clit through your panties. 

He grabbed your ankles and tugged you to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide for him to fit his broad shoulders between. He bit and sucked deep purple marks into your sensitive thighs, watching them writhe in his grasp. 

“König- fuck, please!” You begged, tho you weren’t even completely sure what you were begging for.

“What is it Maus? Tell me what you need.” He asked while pressing kisses up your thigh, leaving love-bites dangerously close to where you needed his mouth most.

“Want…..want your mouth on me. Or your fingers or- ngh! Anything please König- please!” You cried out, already begging pathetically for his touch.

With a devilish smirk he finally tugged down your panties. You clenched around nothing at the cold air and the look of admiration in his eyes as he stared down your cunt. 

“Such a pretty pussy….” he mumbled, “all this just for me sweetheart?” He asked, gathering your slick on his fingers. 

You turned your neck and buried your face in your pillow in embarrassment but he just reached up to grab your chin and turned you to look at him. “Eyes on me.” 

Finally satisfied with your pretty eyes gazing down at him, König delved into your cunt, gripping your thighs and shoving you impossibly closer like he wanted to devour you whole.

Your moans and choked out whines served as fuel for him while he ate you out like a man starved, his big hooked nose bumping into your clit making you shake and arch your back off the soft sheets.  

He dives his tongue into your entrance to fully taste you, and the satisfied hum he releases vibrates in your core and leaves you a leaking, panting mess as he licks you up like your the last bit of water on the Sahara ground.

 He licks a stripe up your pussy until he gets to your clit and starts sucking on it. He’s shameless to the sloppy wet sounds he’s making while he rolls the engorged bud on his tongue and prods a thick finger at your hole. You squirm at how big just the one is—about the size of at least two of yours, maybe more—but you welcome it in with a loud moan of his name. You were already dangerously close by the time he had his mouth on you, but the feeling of just one of his thick fingers slamming into you while he starts to tease another in has you crying out to the stars and cumming all over his hand. 

“That’s it schatz….just like that, mein gott you look so gorgeous when you’re cumming, Ich möchte für immer zwischen deinen Schenkeln bleiben.” He praised you, still pumping his two fingers into your clenching cunt to ride out your high for as long as possible. 

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, leaning down to lick up any of your arousal that spilled onto your thighs. When you finally opened your eyes you noticed him staring at you darkly, and the expression made heat pool in your gut.

“W-what?” You asked, half nervous-half turned on. You went to close your legs but he gripped your marked up thighs and laid your legs over his shoulders to have even better access to your soaked cunny.

“Oh we’re not even close to done prinzessin.” He announced with a smirk before sinking three fingers straight back into your pussy, fully intent on making you squirt for him.

You gasped and nearly choked on your words, “wha-y hah-“ you moaned and twitched in overstimulation until he slowed. 

“Tell me to stop.” It was a question; not an order.

Tears leaked down your flushed cheeks but you gasped out; “keep going” and he smiled, the whole bottom half of his face dripping. He wasted no time diving straight back in, inhaling your scent. “Mit Vergnügen, mein bedürftiges kleines Häschen.” He mumbled into your clit, not even bothering to speak English anymore as he knew your fucked out brain could barely comprehend anything. Four of his large digits split you open, grinding and prodding farther into you than you could ever reach on your own. Without much time he found that sensitive bundle of nerves, and you didn’t fail to let him know when you cried out and scratched at your sheets, chanting his name like a mantra.

“König- ah- KönigKönigKönigKönigpleasefuck- pleasepleaseKönig plea- hah . .!..” You moaned, fisting the sheets desperately.

He relentlessly abused that spot, slamming his fingers into you over and over and teasing your folds with the other hand. He messily sucked on your clit, circling it with his tongue like a lollipop, using every part of himself for your pleasure.

“Come on my gorgeous liebling, mein diamant, mein perfekter Schatz, come for me. Squirt all over my fingers.” He begged, voice whiny and muffled into your pussy while he continued his relentless assault on your puffy cunt. 

“Kö….gonna- fuck m���gonna-“ You managed to stutter out  the warning between moans.

“Go on hase, let go. I’ve got you, go ahead.” He encouraged, ravishing your sweet cunny until you were squirting all over his face with a choked out scream, whole body trembling. You were stuck between running away from the burning pleasure and shoving yourself closer, but luckily you didn’t have to decide as he had you pinned down, groaning into your pussy.

Your vision went blank for a few moments, but you came back when you felt him still lapping lazily at your folds until you were whining and shoving him away. He pouted but stood up to fall onto the bed beside you, pulling your spent body into him and engulfing you like you were a teddy bear.

You giggled and pressed a kiss onto his glistening lips, tasting yourself on them. “Not to sound like a jerk or anything, but I’m glad you got stood up.” You joked.

“Mm, I agree. That was the best, most unplanned date I’ve ever been on.” He bantered back with a cheeky grin. 

You rolled your eyes, but then smiled sincerely. “Yeah, it was. I’m really glad I met you Kö.”

His pupils dilated adorably, like a kid seeing a candy store for the first time. “Me too, schatz.”

The two of you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, but not before you muttered, 

“By the way, that other girl is missing out. You eat pussy like a champ.” 

“You could call me a certified munch.” He bounced back, and your jaw dropped.

. . . Translations:

౨ৎ Ja = Yes, Nein = No

♡ Maus = Mouse 

౨ৎ Liebling = Darling

♡ Schatz = Treasure

౨ৎ Mein gott = My gosh

♡ Ich möchte für immer zwischen deinen Schenkeln bleiben = I want to stay between your thighs forever (goals 😋)

౨ৎ Prinzessin = Princess 

♡ Mit Vergnügen, mein bedürftiges kleines Häschen = With pleasure, bunny

౨ৎ Mein diamant = My diamond

♡ Mein perfekter schatz = My perfect treasure 

౨ৎ Hase = Bunny 

Quick tip: Depending on what device you use, If you highlight the text there should be an option to quickly translate! It’s a lot easier than having to go to Google/Safari/etc to search it up :))

Thank you so much for reading !! It’s 3:00 in the morning rn so I apologize if it’s not very well written :C :C

This is just a sweet little thing to prepare you guys for the FILTHY blurb coming soon 😇😇 get ready!!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city. 

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him. 

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun. 

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?” 

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that. 

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices. 

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly. 

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again. 

And again… And again. 

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him. 

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby. 

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing. 

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you. 

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes. 

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe. 

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. 

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men. 

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore. 

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her. 

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table. 

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles? 

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good. 

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?" 

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?" 

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared. 

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary. 

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours. 

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again. 

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?” 

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now. 

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?” 

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again. 

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister.